Here’s #7 in The Bookstore series. This one is based on a customer I encountered today. She seemed perfectly normal, albeit odd as she wandered from spot to spot in the store, looking at nothing and everything at once. Then she decided to tell me something. Whisper something, actually. And so, here she is, immortalized as only Xtranormal can.
Month: February 2011
Talking Baseball
I just applied to become a full-time baseball nut. MLB.com is going to send someone to NYC for a full baseball season, where they will watch baseball all year (every game to some degree, every day), blog about it, vlog about it, tweet about it, yell about it, talk about it, be interviewed about it, and…well, you get the drift. I’m stoked. A full, non-stop, ridiculously busy year of baseball. To which of the baseball Gods do I need to beg and plead? Anyway, there was a two-part essay, and I thought I would share it here.
The first half, in 500 words or less, was a bit about myself and why I dearly love baseball so. This is what I wrote:
The day that I die, I will bequeath to this world a heart with one seam and two hundred and sixteen stitches. As it is, I’m quite certain that when I was born—I arrived one week early in late June of ‘72—I did so in a desperate need to avoid closing out the first half of the season in utero. No self-respecting baseball fan wants to be born during the All-Star break. I grew up on a diet of Reggie, complemented that as I aged with sides of Garvey and Cey, spent the glorious span of summer reliving the celebrated games of years past with a whiffle bat and tennis ball, and ultimately found there was no greater joy, no greater love than settling into an uncomfortable seat with a hot dog in one hand and a program in the other. I came alive as spring rolled in, overcoming what most people now refer to Seasonal Affective Disorder. I always just called the Offseason Blues. I lived in Florida. It wasn’t cold. There just wasn’t any baseball, and the internet wasn’t even through Rookie League yet.
I wrote my first short story when I was twelve. It was a heroic tale about a young boy who twisted his ankle while walking to the championship game. It was a horrendous injury, one that left him certain there was no way he would make it to the game, much less play when he arrived. It was heart-wrenching. I poured my soul into that story, and cheered the boy on when he mustered the courage to fight through the pain, make his way to the field, and bring home the deciding run when all seemed lost. I was convinced this was the greatest tale ever told, and no moment in life would ever best it. Four years later, Kirk Gibson hit his limp-legged shot into the seats in the ’88 World Series off Dennis Eckersley, and I wasn’t entirely sold that he hadn’t intentionally stole my thunder. Of course, it was historic, and I became less interested in vengeance with every fist-pump, every painful step he made around the bases. I let it slide, and decided I should at least make do with the chops I’d been given. I might not have to limp (though I could if I needed to impress the girls), but I could string the words together to someday write the best baseball story ever written.
There are no words to adequately express my love for the game. Now two books into a career as an impoverished author, I’ve decided the only reason I want to make Trump-town cash as a writer is in order to own a franchise. I never evolved as a player—though I’ve had quite the career in my mind—but I live and breathe this sport. I have to be involved in it every day, every year, and relish every moment of every game I see. I’m Gonzo. Baseball is my chicken.
Right. Part two asked what I believed this year’s big story would be. And so sayeth I:
Albert Pujols and his forthcoming pile of Genie’s gold is going to be in everyone’s ear this year, whether he wants it that way or not. The Yankees are going to sob loudly in their room after being jilted at the Prom by the two-headed stud-monster of Cliff Lee and Andy Pettitte. Adam Wainwright is the latest in what now totals over 150 Major League pitchers who have had, or are scheduled to have, Tommy John surgery. Young phenom Bryce Harper is on the trail to projected glory, soon to join a promising future in the nation’s capitol.
All of which will create a generous buzz between now and October. And yet, we’re going to spend this year talking about four pitchers and what they mean to the history books, what they mean to the game, and what they mean to a franchise racing against time for one more run to glory. In Roy Halladay, Roy Oswalt, Cole Hamels, and Cliff Lee, the Philadelphia Phillies have a quartet striving to equal, or perhaps best, the pitching staffs of the ’93 and ’95 Braves, and the ’71 Orioles.
In Halladay, Oswalt, and Lee alone, the Phillies have 3 of the top 5 pitchers in highest career winning percentage, with a minimum of 100 starts, in baseball history. They have two (Halladay 2.67, Lee 2.98) of the four pitchers over the last 3 seasons with sub 3.00 ERA’s and 600+ innings. And Cliff Lee, well, all he’s done over the past three years is rank 6th in wins (48), 7th in ERA (2.98), and 5th in IP (667.1). Toss in his stellar record in the postseason (7-2, 2.13), and his run in the second half of 2009 with Philly (7-4, 3.39, 4-0 in the playoffs), and you have reason to believe the Phillies have the making of something historically special. If that doesn’t sparkle your fireworks, and if the idea of pitching in a notably hitter-friendly park makes you squeamish, it’s important to note that of the top 6 ERA’s in Citizens Bank Park, the Phillies now own 3 of them (Oswalt 2.10, Halladay 2.21, Lee 2.52).
The Phillies head into 2011 with the reigning NL Cy Young winner in Roy Halladay (ahem, no-hitter in the playoffs, ahem), a pitcher in Lee who only walked 18 men last year while striking out 185, Roy Oswalt, who only went 7-1 with a microscopic 1.74 ERA after being traded mid-season, and Cole Hamels, who may be a bit sporadic and reminds one a touch of Patrick Bateman from American Psycho, but had an ERA last season of 3.06 with 211 strikeouts in 208.2 innings.
There may be questions about the Phillies age, whether or not their bullpen can save a frog from jumping, and whether or not they can stay healthy enough, and score enough runs, to win a championship, but one thing is rock solid certain. Everyone is going to be talking about how this rotation stacks up against history.
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I WANT THIS JOB!
Tweeting the Quack
This is actually a post from the Southern Authors Blog, A Good Blog is Hard to Find, but I would be doing it a great disservice if I didn’t post it everywhere, so, here it is. May your day be filled with the glory of my brilliance.
And stuff.
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This is a duck. His name is Ducky Thomas. He is a duck named Thomas.
He’s stuffed full of cute, loves adventures, and is quite convinced that the world is the most fantastic thing a duck could ever hope for. He also loves the cat who loves him most.
This is a video about a bookstore. It has nothing to do with ducks–not yet anyway I guess I must admit–but does indeed have a lot to do with the point.
They both have something in common. They have nothing directly to do with the books I write, but have everything to do with me as a writer. They are independent of what is published, but a vital cog in the publicity of who I am. And they aren’t the end or the beginning. They are the journey.
There. I’ve waxed poetic. Now I can get on with the point.
We all know about Twitter. If you have the time and patience, you can gather a following, make a name for yourself, your opinions, and your work. The same can be said for Facebook, albeit in a more centralized, and long-term kind of way. You’re going to make your friends, have your followers, talk about anything from The Simpsons and their obvious lack of relevance to Obama and his quest for health care. You’ll be “liked”, have the “@” symbol thrown your way, tagged, or even re-posted/re-tweeted. People will laugh with you, at you, talk about why your opinion is pointless and not at all as potent as what they have to say, and send messages to one another about whatever it is you posted last. Above all, they will know you as a writer, and understand you as a person in ways readers never could before, and they will look forward to what you have to post next.
But they are merely one step toward lifting you, as a writer, into the conversations of the world.
We live in a digital age. One in which communication is almost entirely of the written word. We view Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, Foursquare, Plancast, Tumbler, and so on as pure facets of publicity, meant to broaden our audience and stamp a nice, fancy, little brand upon our heads. All of which is most certainly true. But it’s not the mere existence of our digital selves on these sites that makes full embrace of what they offer us. It’s what we write. It’s how we use them. It’s taking the blank slate and filling it with content that both evolves who we are as writers, and demonstrates fully what we can do with the words we are blessed with. True, starting a blog and writing about anything–anything at all–is exactly the right approach. But it isn’t the endpoint.
When I first started blogging, I didn’t intend on writing about the adventures of a stuffed duck, and I had no plans to begin at first a blog, and then a series of videos about life in a bookstore. But the more I worked through my personal blog, the more I came to see each entry as a script of my life–pages of the mind fluttering from the inner sanctum of thought to the public forum offered to me. Each entry was another showcase of what I could offer. In a very real sense, each time I posted a blog, I was adding to my resume. Obviously, it is every writer’s great hope that each book that is published will further enhance the aura and legacy of who they are (read in: you will become instantly uber-famous, and own two castles in a decade). But it doesn’t have to end there any more. In fact, the sheer number of books that are being published by extension of the popularity of a blog speak volumes to the time in which we live. Used to be that you had to find a press to print your article, or a series of collected works in which to be included in order to broaden the scope of your work. Now you have the internet, and whatever time you offer it. Work it all in unison and not only do people start to pay attention–no matter how small your collective–but they start to anticipate what’s to come. Then that audience can grow as people share what you have to offer–which is far less work than what you will put into creating it, given that the sharing aspect of it is usually accommodated by the gratifying click of a button.
It’s so very cliche, but the truth is, you never know who is watching, who is reading, who will share what you have to say, who is paying attention to as you scream from every corner of the internet you can crawl from, “HEY! PAY ATTENTION TO ME!” So, go. Do. Find your inner duck. And make every word count. Your future readers will take note.
The Bookstore, Episode 6
Here’s the latest in The Bookstore series. This one is called French Stuff is Hot, and is a step further in the evolution of the characters. I’m just happy that Stacy isn’t bashing Anointed. I don’t know what I’d do if she didn’t like it. Kill her I suppose, but even for a God that’s a pretty harsh reaction. Anyway, and stuff, Jericho doesn’t know French. He just knows it’s pretty hot.
The Bookstore, Episode 5
The fifth installment in The Bookstore series is a public service announcement from Eddie and The Bookstore regarding the forthcoming bankruptcy filing by Borders. He has more to say than he wants, and isn’t about to let black mascara get in the way.
The Bookstore, Episode 2
Here’s the second in The Bookstore series, in which Eddie talks with (at?) Jericho about Snooki’s piece of “literature”.
Back to The Bookstore
The most recent episode of The Bookstore is a fair bit of a self-indulgence. But this is my universe, so I’ll construct it as I like, thank you. Actually, the true point of these videos is simply to entertain and tell a story, and it is my great hope that do exactly that. But I would be remiss in not utilizing it to also promote myself, so why not have Eddie profess me to be one of the greatest writers ever? I was rather touched by his sentiment, even if he’s just doing so in a vain attempt to bait me into doing an event at The Bookstore.
I’ve upgraded to Xtranormal’s new movie-making program, which they call State. It allows for more than 2 characters–which I’ve utilized here–and the ability to move characters around. There’s a nifty voice over thingy that I will ultimately have to give a try, but for now…baby steps.
As with every project I ever undertake, I’m open to comments, thoughts, and ideas. Additionally, I’m very (I think I mean to say VERY) open to you sharing these videos on Facebook, Twitter, or anywhere you socially congregate. As well, you can visit the videos on my You Tube page, and add comments, likes, and so forth. Don’t underestimate how much it helps. Same with my books on Amazon. It’s a public forum in which people who have never heard of me (like Stacy in the video) have the opportunity to read what other people are saying.
Ok, enough promoting. Here’s the fourth video in The Bookstore series, Going Viral.
I Have a Wrong Way to Go (until I find the right one) 