Changes, they are a comin'

Nah, just a new beginning.

I'm getting really tired of my blog title. It's about to go away, but I'm not changing my joking little ways about the ridiculousness of the publishing industry (not that I know anything about it in the first place). I want to keep my original vision of the blog intact, but it seems to me this little blog has become more of a place for me to go, a kind of respite in an otherwise crazy life. It is my little corner of the internets where I get to put up whatever I want, and to hell with the consequences. My little poems and brain impulses have a place to go, a little corner of their own.

So, here are the possible titles I have been contemplating.

Mr. Thompson's Writing Guide
(subtitle: Tidbits of Random Writing Advice and Helpful Hints)

Mr. Thompson's Writing Corner Guide

Mr. Thompson's Writing Corner

Mr. Thompson's Brain (not really; just wanted to type it, insert laugh here)

The Blog Formerly Known as Mr. Thompson's Guide

An Outsider's Look In
(subtitle: Mr. Thompson's Guide)

Mr. Thompson's Guide
(An Outsider's Look at the World of Writing and Publishing)

New Poem.

I'm posting this poem here. I like it, but I'm not sure. It seems a little trite to write about the sunset. What do you think?

Second Coming Sky

She called it the Second Coming Sky.

We didn’t argue.

Blazed behinds taught us that lesson well.

The violent disk crashing into the drought stricken plains

Made us believe in the possibility.

God’s manicured Hand

Dipping through the clouds.

His Robe shattering the violet, the ochre, the tangerine glow.

 Indigo haze evaporating beneath the throne.

A shovel hand scooping the righteous to their reward

And rushing the sinners to judgment.

But the glasses of lemonade sitting on the table remind us

This sunset is our gift,

Not her Second Coming.

A Miracle!

Well, folks, it looks like Mr. Thompson may need to change his blog name very, very soon. I'll keep you posted with more details as they progress, and I don't want to jinx anything, so for now, just keep positive thoughts for yours truly.

(Hint: I'm going to have to practice my tortured POET face, as opposed to my WELL PAID novelist face.)

Me: doing a small celebration jig. Cautiously.

Anatomy of a Cat Fight



Blackie, can I cuddle with you? Just for a minute?

Just a second, Blackie, I'll clean your ears first!
Don't touch my ears, Buddy.

***Kitty ninja fighting. Too fast for a normal camera.***

Hold still, Blackie! I almost got it!

Don't mess with my ears, ya ass!
***Blackie imitating a badger***

And, scene.

Sammich Novel v. Sandwich Novel

First, a couple of definitions:

Sandwich: a lunch (or dinner, I don't care) delicacy consisting of whole grain, high quality bread, layers  of thinly sliced imported ham (Italy or the like), fancy cheese I can't pronounce, mustard that wasn't a condiment from McDonald's in its other life, a tomato grown from the garden in the back forty, lettuce unchewed (but coveted by) bunnies, purple onions, a nice bowl of Gammy's cucumber salad on the side, and a homemade sweet pickle. For dessert, let's just say we'll have chocolate cake, shall we?

Sammich: Two pieces of wonderbread, 1 slice of expired lunch meat, 1 previously used packet of mustard with slightly dirty edges.

Sandwich Novel: A novel that takes the reader so deeply into the plot and characters that the reader never wishes to leave, and instead wants to be transported in time and space and actually live, breathe, and dream with the characters.

Sammich Novel: The kind I wrote last summer. (see definition of sammich above to complete the metaphor)

So, here's my task this summer, and I think it's a good one. How can I take my sammich and turn it into a sandwich? I've been through the first two chapters probably a hundred times, and it's finally taking shape. I'm liking where the characters are beginning to develop, but it's the next few chapters that are bothering the hell out of me.

Or, do I give up on that particular novel and start a new one? I learned more from writing the first novel than I ever did on anything else I've done. Of course, it takes me 20 years to finish a poem, so I'm not quite sure why I would give up on the first novel quite yet.

Since I believe that writers are the best teachers of writers, what suggestions do you have, and how did you overcome a similar situation with your novel? Would love to hear about it...

A Little Side Note...

I am not a political person, and I generally keep those types of opinions to myself, anyway. Why? It is nobody's damn business, that's why! Today, I found myself reading a series of tweets by a very agressive person of the Republican persuasion. I reacted, quite properly, to one of his tweets to which I disagreed. Unfortunately, I gave fuel to his very particular brand of fire, and I found myself being judged as a liberal, impoverished, wack-job without common sense or judgment. Thinking back on that particular twitter-sation, I'm not sure how it came to that point.

Twitter is a place I go to meet writers and to hopefully make a few friends. It is not the place I go to stake my claim on a particular political race horse. If that is how a person chooses to use Twitter, more power to you. I will, however, exercise my right as a Twitter-zen to unfollow, block, and remove you from my feed if your political opinion is hate-filled, narrow-minded, and obtuse. That is my right, and yours, as well. Please, if you do not want to read my tweets, or if I say something offensive to your beliefs, by all means, unfollow. It's not that I don't wish to discuss politics, every now and then, and I will even debate. It's just that Twitter is my freetime, where I can discuss writer's craft, books, teaching, and elderly cat activity, not Obama and the Republicans.

Another quick side note, and I'm done. Can we please stop trying to fit each other into neat little, pretty boxes? Human beings are so much more than their political beliefs. With such a wide array of humanity, can we not just appreciate one another?

Anyway, enough of that. I'm going back to the fight-dance scene in Puss in Boots.

My Ten Commandments. (Don't follow these)

I have no idea what the heck happened. I tried to create a list, and it came out a jumbled mess. I am so sorry about the lack of white space. 1. Thou shall allow moss to grow upon thy laptop. 2. Thou shall covet thy favorite author's ass, I mean book, and think that thou shalt never write anything like it. 3. Honor thy ABC, NBC, CBS, and Fox sitcoms as precious time wasters and pretend the characters art thy friends. 4. Thou shall peruse social media as thy only source of communication to the outside world, forsaking all others for followers and friends. 5. Useth words like "cool" and "fantabulous" at every possible moment in thy half written dialogues. 6. Allowth not the temptation of a good idea to fester in thy head. It shall only pester thee. 7. Followeth not the advice of thy fellow writer brethern. 8. Honor thy commitments to feline owners and allow their needs to supersede thy own. 9. Createth a permenant indention on thy comfy chair. 10. Eateth greedily from the fountain of butter, chocolate, and frozen pizza, allowing thy ass, I do mean ass, to grow proportionately to thy sloth.