Talk is cheap; action entails costs

The past six years have been a remarkable period of reinvention, as well as self-discovery for me. Prior to that I was stuck in a pattern of working in jobs that sucked the soul out of me, crushing my spirit, and causing me to dispair that I'd ever find a place where I belonged.

For me, life truly began at the age of forty, as I am the classic late bloomer that you occasionally read about, or listen to interviewed on a talk show.

I remember vividly, beginning a quest to find myself while assembling contracts at Unum-Provident, in 2001. Beginning with Gregg Levoy's book, Callings, and setting my face towards developing a career focused on writing, I've made steady progress toward my goals, some of them written down on a piece of scrap paper, during my solitary lunches outside of the gray, glass and cement corporate prison I was forced to endure.

Book #2 is now in the can and at my designer, waiting to be prepared for printing. This is my second book that I've put together (with a third on the way, in October). Additionally, I published someone else's book last summer, which helped me to realize that I'd rather focus on my own writing/publishing. I have plans to begin a forth book, in the fall. This is all taking place while working a demanding daytime job that is fulfilling and helping me to keep my writing financed and viable.

I don't spend as much time as I used to, being irritated that other writers get recognized, or featured by Maine's literary community. Occasionally, I do feel irritation when I peruse the list of featured writers at events like the upcoming Maine Festival of the Book, and see names of people that routinely sell a fraction of what my first book sold. While this event has some stellar talent, there are many local authors that would make for a more realistic sense, in my opinion, of who is writing about Maine, and what that writing looks like.

These seasons of frustration and the sense of being ignored for what I've accomplished grow wider in duration, however. One book doesn't make for a writing career, so I'm using that major-league chip on my shoulder to motivate me, and keep me outworking my competition. (Shhhh! Don't tell anyone my secret.)

As I grow in experience, I'm learning that I have much greater control over my own direction and success. Working a full-time job has given me a freedom to no longer worry about outside forces that I have little, or no control over, anyway.

As I continue down life's corridor, having passed the halfway marker, I'm confident that in another decade, I'll have a substantial catalog of books, both varied, and successful in whatever niche that I choose to target, festival invites, or not.

Interviews with authors and dreams of ice cream trucks

I'm a sucker for interviews, particularly with authors and rock stars. Well, maybe not rock stars, but musicians that are more adept than my three-chord contributions to the rock pantheon.

I happened to be visiting the website of Mr. Everyday Yeah and stumbled upon his amazing interview with an amazingly unique writer, Mark Danielewski. I say this, having never ever read any of his books, but based upon this interview alone, I'm going to immediately seek out a Danielewski novel today (I won't find it today, as none of my local bookstores have it, so I'll be forced to wait until I hit the big city of Portland). That's what great interviews do.

Speaking of interviews, I heard etown for the first time, Sunday night, while working on Moxietown. Nick Forster, a great interviewer in his own right, was speaking with Todd Park Mohr, of Big Head Todd and the Monsters. Mohr is a provocative thinker--articulate and able to craft his interesting ideas in a compelling way--a real change from so many empty-headed "stars" that dominate much of our pop culture.

Back to Mr. EDY, he doesn't know it, but a city council member in Portland, Kevin Donoghue, is going after ice cream trucks. Maybe someday, ice cream trucks will be relegated to junkyards, on the edge of town, with bums living in them, dreaming of Rainbow Pop-ups. Then, all we'll have left is Ice Cream Truck Days, No More!

Writing with the Kings

I’ve written about it before, but one of my writing influences is Stephen King, and more specifically, his book for aspiring writers, On Writing. Hence, it was with interest that I noted BookTV’s programming notes, mentioning that Stephen King, along with wife Tabitha, and son, Owen, would be featured last night. Given my long day of book prep, as well as wanting to try to hit the week running, I decided to tape the 10 PM segment.

I was up early this morning (4 AM) and decided to watch the 90 minute program, while going through my morning workout of exercises, interspersed with free weights.

The program was taped from April 4th, when the three Kings were featured at The Center for the Book, at the Library of Congress, DC’s oldest cultural institution. The program was part of an effort to promote reading, and was sponsored by PEN Faulkner’s Writers in Schools Program.

It was interesting to see the faces of the students, from four area DC high schools, as John Cole, who is the director of the Library of Congress, spoke about some of the history behind the Library. The gulf between most of the students, and a 70-ish white male, steeped in a culture that’s changed in the past 30, or 40 years, was apparent. History, as appreciated by Cole, and people of my generation, is often lost on high school age students, even more so with inner-city students like these.

Each one of the Kings spoke about their writing and read a piece of their own work. Tabitha spoke about how she came to be asked by the family of the late writer, Michael McDowell, to finish his manuscript for a horror novel called, Candles Burning. She was given McDowell's manuscript and asked to complete the work. King spoke about what that process was like, the liberties she took, and why, in finishing a novel that has a strong southern gothic orientation.

When King asked her audience, if anyone had read books that would fall into the southern gothic genre, one, or two hands, out of an audience of 60-70 went up. Not a charismatic speaker, like her husband, or even son, her segment, which was much longer than son, Owen’s, plodded at times.

Owen King spoke about his work, We’re All In This Together, which is four short stories, and a novella. He spoke about one of his characters, a superhero, based in Cleveland that is part meerkat. He has his father’s odd sense of humor, and seems at home in front of an audience.

The star, of course, was Daddy King. He spoke of how pleased he was to be at the Library, as this was the first time that he’d been there with Tabitha, and Owen, together. He connected with his audience by engaging in some banter about the crime drama, The Wire (which has been highly recommended to me by my son, Mr. Everyday Yeah), which takes place on the nearby mean streets of Baltimore. King was quite upset about the killing off of one of the characters, and mentioned that he was so put out by this that he called the writer, Dennis Lehane, to voice his disapproval.

King talked about why he writes—he likes to write, and he wants people who read his writing to like it—it wasn’t anymore complex than that, according to this writing superstar.

“I want people to be late for appointments because they’re reading a book of mine,” said King.

I feel connected to King in many ways, yet, I also recognize the huge chasm that exists between us.

We are similar in that we both went to Lisbon High School, graduating from the school, although a decade apart. I live about a mile from his childhood home. On Writing was a seminal influence in launching my own writing career, especially developing the habit of writing.

I think King instilled in me the understanding that the difference between a poser that calls themselves a writer, and someone who actually feels called to write, is that the poser writes when he/she feels motivated to write, which will be very infrequent, and sporadic. The writer who develops a body of work is characterized by doggedness, possessed by the need to write, early in the morning, late at night, and often are distracted at family gatherings, with ideas for a story, an essay, or the outline of a future book.

I have always wanted to meet King, and spend an hour talking about Lisbon Falls, life in the area, the Red Sox, and his wonderful essay about his son, Owen, and the Bangor Little League All-Star team he was part of, as a 12-year-old. The essay, which appeared in the New Yorker, and titled, "Head Down," is considered by King to be his best piece of non-fiction writing.

Unfortunately, King isn’t accessible, like a Tess Gerritsen, for a variety of good reasons, I suppose. The closest I’ve ever come to meeting him was in 1981, when he came back to speak at a LHS graduation. I was home from my first year of college, and a group of alumni sat on the bleachers, in center field, at the baseball diamond where I had pitched many of my high school gems. He gave a talk about his writing and ideas and I thought, “this dude’s weird.” I had no clue that 20 years later, his book about the writing process would help me find my life’s calling, after two decades of unrealized potential.

King looked good, and seemed to be in really good spirits. I know that after he was hit, and nearly killed a few years back, while walking near his summer home, the injuries took a toll on the author. But he seemed energized, and excited about his latest novel, which he said would be one of the longest ones he’s written.

While others might get a charge out of watching a bunch of Hollywood types via reality TV, I enjoyed seeing writing royalty, and his family, interact with a group of high school students. Hopefully a few of them were sparked by something that one of these three very different and immensely talented authors had to share.

The devil's in the details

For years (11, to be exact), the Tampa Bay Rays (sans "Devil") were the bottom feeders of the American League East Division. Season, after season, the Red Sox padded their own post-90 win totals, as well as batting averages, against a team that considered 70 wins, a pyrrhic victory. Apparently, kicking the devil to the curve is all it takes to turn things around.

There is little to trumpet when it comes to the club’s history, since joining the AL, in 1998. Playing in a woeful indoor stadium, with ground rules that remind me of childhood WIFFLE® Ball games, rather than big league baseball, the Rays became the post-modern equivalent of the old Kansas City A’s clubs. Where else could a home run get swallowed up by a catwalk and become a harmless single, but in Tampa Bay and Tropicana Field?

[the former "evil" logo]

During most of their existence, the club regularly signed former stars, years after their best days were behind them. Names like Boggs, Canseco, Castilla, Vaughn (as in Greg), and McGriff, graced the back of their various uniform color schemes.

In 2003, the Rays began a youth movement, introducing a 21-year-old speedster, Carl Crawford, to the everyday lineup. He stole 54 bases his rookie year and has been patrolling left field in Tampa, ever since. Alongside Crawford, in center, was can’t-miss prospect, Rocco Baldelli, the former pride of Warwick, Rhode Island. Is there a better name to pronounce for PR announcers than, “Roc-co Bal-delee!”? Baldelli’s athleticism and Italian-American heritage illicited comparisons to a young Joe DiMaggio.

The summer of 2004 was the Rays high water mark, with 70 wins. The Lou Pinella-led club was in contention until just after the All-Star break, with a 42-41 record, but a late season swoon left them 21 games under .500.

The luster of young Baldelli, however, began to fade. The future upside of this young star, whom the club had built their hopes around, seemed to disappear before fan’s eyes, as he first tore his anterior cruciate ligament in his knee while playing baseball with his brother in the offseason. Expected back by the All-Star break, he injured his elbow during rehab and required Tommy John surgery, forcing him to miss all of 2005.

Then, as if he’d never been gone for nearly a season and a half, Baldelli returned on June 7, 2006. Playing nearly every night, Baldelli finished with a .302 average, with 16 homers and 57 RBI, in only 364 at bats.

Spring training in 2007 had him pulling a hamstring that never got better and limited him to only 35 games. Then, in 2008, Baldelli underwent extensive medical testing to determine the reasons for his muscle problems and extreme fatigue after even brief workouts. Doctors discovered some "metabolic and/or mitochondrial abnormalities" but were unable to provide an exact diagnosis. At present, Baldelli’s career is stalled and some aren’t sure that he’ll return.

[New logo=wins]

On November 8, 2007, the team unveiled new uniforms and announced they were dropping the “Devil” from their name.

In the original press release, principal owner Stuart Sternberg said "We are now the 'Rays' - a beacon that radiates throughout Tampa Bay and across the entire state of Florida."

"We Are One Team," the pitch for the 2008 season was announced February 22, 2008. The phrase, as president Matt Silverman says, refers to the idea of an improved and talented team allied with the fan base across the Tampa Bay area.

November 9 was when the Rays announced that they were in negotiations to potentially build a new $450-million, 34,000 seat, open-air baseball stadium at the site of Progress Energy Park/Al Lang Field, their current spring training facility on the St. Petersburg waterfront, to open by 2012. Stu Sternberg would provide $150 million and sign a long-term lease, and much of the remaining money would be covered by the sale of redevelopment rights to Tropicana Field and the state of Florida's 30-year, $60-million sales tax rebate for new venues. Any final plans would have to be approved by voters in St. Petersburg since all new construction on public property must be put to a referendum, regardless of whether or not the project uses taxpayer money.

The Rays ended spring training with a club record, 18 wins. They kept on winning during April and finished with their best opening month ever, posting a 15-12 mark, including a six-game winning streak and seven wins in their final eight games during the month.

Last weekend, the Rays swept the Red Sox, their first ever sweep of Boston. Their young arms of Matt Garza, Edwin Jackson, and James Shields, shut down Boston’s potent bats and bested their veteran arms, including ace, Josh Beckett.

Heading into tonight’s series, the Rays lifetime mark at fabled Fenway is a dismal 23-61. It's a long, grueling season and 29 games don't make a season. However, if the Rays keep things rolling, then we know that there might be something to sending the devil packing.

Juice above the fold

Mark LaFlamme cut his journalistic teeth on the mean streets of Lewiston, Maine. Later, he directed his considerable writing talent towards fiction, penning his horror novel, The Pink Room, about "a physicist's attempts to use the science of string theory to bring his daughter back from the dead. Government agents and a bestselling author race to find out if he was succesful."

LaFlamme also maintains a blog, while continuing his duties with the Sun Journal, prowling the side streets and alleyways of Maine's grittiest community, mining for stories and dealing with "dumb crooks, hard cases and vile editors." He also writes a weekly column, Street Talk. Some might call him prolific. I won't mention what others say about him.

We hear so much about the mega-selling authors and celebrity writers, which tend to skewer the realities that most writers live with. There are countless others, like LaFamme that actually churn out more and arguably, better material; they just don't get obscene advances for the work that they produce.