Reading a book the other day and channel surfing. I found myself alternating between the first John Wick and the film version of The Equalizer. Both films featured protagonists who were widowers with awesome killing skills battling cruel Russian foes who are heavily tattooed. As a general note: if your loved one is a cruel, heavily-tattooed Russian mobster, encourage him to avoid widowers. You just never know.
As a story-telling rule, Russian mobsters are way past their diabolical shelf-life. What's wrong with exploring vicious Chinese Communists as villains? Ah, that's right. Hollywood simply won't bite the hand that feeds them, no matter how many dissident organs are harvested. That's show biz.
They wait, these eBooks, for eyes to fall upon the words within. Let them be your eyes. What's it cost? Nothing but the time spent reading, always time well spent. That's how Smashwords rolls with their March Read an eBook promotion. Least you think this some manner of public service announcement, my books and essays are also available. (For free, until Saturday, that is.)
Oh, fine, all the books in this Smashword promotion are not free. Some are steeply discounted, others less so. But that is the way of commerce.
Also, you don't have to wear high heels to avail yourself of the service. This just happened to be the last unused promotional banner. Let your footwear reflect you as you indulge your reading tastes at crazy old Smashwords Read an eBook extravaganza.
FREE eBOOKS THIS WEEK! FREE FOR YOU, I SAY!!
(OR DISCOUNTED DOWN TO PLEASING LEVELS. EXCEPT FOR MY BOOKS . . . FREE UNTIL SATURDAY!)
नो बुक्स अरे अवेलेबल इन थिस
(None of my books below are available in the above language.)
Three of my eBooks will be free along with many others not to mention discounts galore. Starting this Sunday to next Saturday, glut yourself on the electronic word. Read on your phone, your Kindle or Nook, your tablet or laptop. But read, read, I say.
First off, excellent seven mile-run this afternoon on the bridal trails that encircle the golf course. Relaxed, practicing my various chi running focuses, finished strong. Then I begin my post-run stretches.
To better understand matters, there is a grassy area where I was stretching. Then a low concrete rail fence. Beyond that, the dirt bridle trail. Then a six-foot chain-link fence. On the other side of the chain-link fence is the golf course.
Golf balls occasionally drop into the grassy area. Not often, but occasionally, a golfer will ask you if you could bring over his ball. A polite request always results in a returned ball.
Today, there was a golf ball behind me as I lengthened various muscle groups. Something told me to kick it into the ivy. "What nonsense," I thought.
So on I stretched, working this muscle group and that. A voice sounded behind me from the golf course. "There it is. Behind that guy. Hey! Hey, you." Then "Hell-ooo" with a mocking lilt. "Right behind you. Get my ball."
Wow. It's like I was this guy's caddy. (He lost me on the 'hell-ooo.') But before I could brush him off, he erupted into non-stop profanity, cursing me for not quickly fetching his golf ball. My back was to Foul Mouth Duffer and I continued stretching, tossing off a curse or two of my own.
Back he came with his golfing partner. They hailed a woman walking past on the bridlepath. She was asked—politely I might add—to retrieve the cursed ball. Throughout, Foul Mouth Duffer stayed on his side of the chain-link fence and kept up a barrage of bile toward me involving the sexual act, the sexual act with my mother, me being fat and old, and, after I hoped he didn't have a heart attack, wished me death by heart attack while running.
At one point, he stormed over to his golf cart and threatened me with a golf club. When I didn't run, he grabbed his putter and stomped off, still cursing and swearing. I've known a few rageaholics in my day—been one myself a time or two—and realized this guy was in his own special land.
As soon as he was out-of-sight, I left. The whole incident reminded me of the that scene in Werner Herzog's documentary Grizzly Man in which subject Timothy Treadwell erupted in a fiery rant against absent Fish and Wildlife agents. I'll let Werner Herzog take it from here.
Note: Thu. Feb. 20: I'm not normally so serene in the face of provocation. But after running over an hour and twenty minutes, my body was awash in yummy endorphins. Stretching out provided more. Were I paying my taxes, it might've been me chasing the feral golfer with a club.
Well, not so private. I'm posting on the Web. But given my traffic, it's nearly exclusive. If you skimmed my original kanban post, you'll recall me bemoaning my sloth in not taking a picture. Now I have.
Note My SEO-Free Heading!
Strange to loath search engine optimization when it attracts viewers. I must have a desire to failure, though it comes wrapped in fantasies of wild success. Still, my board lists the immediate, which consists heavily of updating all my old books, garnering reviews, new artwork, etc. Each day, I strive to write at least one page of a short story and a longer work that may end up a novella. Progress, consistency, and a visual record of achievement.
In the right of frame, you'll note a section of my running/exercise calendar. Last month on top and current month on the bottom for comparison. As of now, I'm doing better with running than writing, but that's only because writing is more difficult, especially when mixed with the many marketing chores facing the indie author. You can write what you like, but then it's up to you to sell it.
Little yellow Post-Its proliferate: lining my computer screen, on the desk, on the calendar, reminding me of writing matters and indie author marketing. Also, there are piles of scrap paper suggesting I upload an ebook to Draft2Digital, or buy a new eBook cover and send it to my niece as she builds me a Squarespace web page. But in a recent quest for organizational help, I came across concept of the kanban board.
Actually, kanban means "visual signal." An organizing system, it can be as simple as three columns with the headings To-Do, Doing, Done, or broken down further to a more granular level. I like seeing a cohesive lists of tasks. So I used half a piece of foam core and divided it into three sections with duct tape.
Like Ordering from Pizza Hut
Order a pepperoni and mushroom pizza online and Pizza Hut uses little icons to show your order received, cooked, and en route to your dwelling. Basically, that's the kanban system. My first section I call the Bullpen. Contained within are all my short story drafts, novellas, a finished short story that needs to be sent out, and two novel drafts. Those little yellow Post-Its come in handing for listing projects. In addition, there are marketing tasks such as obtaining reviews, updating back matter, updating cover photos, formatting manuscripts for softcover conversion, etc.
In the second section, Doing, I transfer a small amount of Bullpen material. I further divide Doing into Pending and Ongoing. Pending pertains to projects like sending out a story where I have no control over the time. Ongoing contains stories that I'm currently writing or rewriting. Sell a story and it moves to the third column.
Done is Done. I have two projects up there: a pair of recently purchased new books overs. Like the pizza, the goal is to move a Post-It along to its final destination. Seeing progress where you normally see nothing until a story is sold or a book published helps with focus and moral. Like "Dr. Strangelove," there is a big board and I can see it.
I'm a Poor Bloglord
Cell phone photos depicting all the above would be nice, but I'm writing this while watching John
Walsh on Investigation Discovery guide me through the murder of a South Carolina women by her drunken former live-in boyfriend. I'd need to visit my office with the cell phone, well, you know the rest. Not that I won't. But it won't be this post. More t/k on the kanban board.
Pasadena 5K Results
As mentioned a few weeks back, my wife Joy and I tackled the Pasadena 5k. A very chilly morning, I felt cold throughout. Finishing up inside the fabled Rose Bowl, I was passed in the last 40 yards by a woman pushing a double stroller, an 11-year-old boy and his mother, and got picked off at the finish line by a young woman. Nevertheless, it was a successful run. I finished in 33:48, a high ten minutes per mile, my best 5k time in over a decade.
This week, I travel down to Santa Monica for an all-day workshop with Danny Dryer, the founder of Chi Running. Hopefully, I can straighten out any problems with my form and pick up a few tips for better performance. Should be fun.
To be fair, Smashwords wasn't especially miffed, but they won't release one of my ebooks to their premium catalog—which means no Barnes and Noble, Kobo or other potential sales sites. Reasons given are murky and technical. Fixes necessary are to refer me to a list of approved technical fixers. And the book has been up on Smashwords for almost seven years. I have another idea.
At least their advertising is winsome and coy. Allow me to quote:
"Draft2Digital has always made it a priority to make eBook conversion as easy as pushing a button. Our free eBook conversion tool has been praised as the best there is.
Authors get attractive EPUB and MOBI files they can count on to work with any eReader app or device on the market. They even get a print-ready PDF to use with Print On Demand (POD) services, such as CreateSpace and Ingram Spark—all for free."
Basically, I send them my doddering old manuscript and they update it to Mobi or Epub or pdf for a writer guy like me. They'll supply an ISBN, though I prefer to use my own. That said, I'll be shifting the surreal, cosmic satire Little Book of Big Enlightenment over to D2D. If successful, more books may follow.
Cycle Through the Seasons
A cross-training favorite of mine is stationary cycling. My ride consisted of a cheap Chinese bike
with pedals, wheels that turn and a knob for increasing effort. Basic with a capital "B." However, my force multiplier is YouTube, specifically the Global Cycling Network. By spinning away to one of their numerous videos I can ride hills in Majorca, or perform sprints, tabatas, fat burns all to human beings with British accents urging me on. (Note: I'm paid nothing, NOTHING for this.) Commercial at the beginning, but no interruptions, at least on the videos I employ. My current favorite is a 15-minute cardio burn. You sweat more than an IRS audit.
Thanks, Nice French People!
Speaking of Europe, a tip of the old beret to the French who've been clicking through Write Enough! in large numbers the last two weeks. Why? I cannot say. But muchas gracias for stopping by.
Yesterday I picked up my race bib. Had to show a QR code and a picture ID. In return, I received my 5k race bib. (No technical shirt until after the race. I don't know why either.)
Email this morning. I was issued the wrong bib, receiving one for the half-marathon. Now I must return today, or arrive extra early tomorrow, negotiate the pre-race crowd, and exchange bibs. Issuing race bibs shouldn't be a complicated process or involve extra effort on the part of a runner paying today's inflated prices. But alas, so many things are fouled up in California. Why not 5ks?
Wife Joy shall join me this year. Due to a ruthless work schedule, her training suffered, but she'll amble in whenever for a medal and a technical shirt.
Being 34 pounds lighter than 2019, I should do better. This brings me to:
From such 5k and long run data as I've collected, it appears I could run a 5:30 marathon. That's around 12:32 a mile for 26.2. A reasonable pace for a guy my age, in my condition, informed by competent medical authority eleven years ago that he'd never run again. (Always gotta throw that in.) Right now, I'm only running three days a week. I'd like to add a fourth day while building up my core.
In May, I'll be running my first 10k since 2008. Should my finishing time be around 1:13, then I'll increase my weekly mileage in preparation for a half-marathon. By the time this theoretical 13.1 rolls around, I'll know whether or not I can manage 26.2.
If all goes according to plan, I'm thinking this November might see me lined up once more on the marathon start line.
We are our dreams.
And mine are to finish 26.2 miles before the water stations close. Hence, running aspirations will be to focus on good form, strong core, greater flexibility through yoga, and no more stinking injuries.
YOU good blog reader will be updated as the year unfolds.
Everything must begin somewhere. And in the United States Marine Corps, my enlisted tour commenced with yellow footprints. Drawn on the asphalt of the recruit depot with heels close together and toes angled out to 45 degrees, they are where I, along with seven other guys from our suburban Chicago neighborhood, stood to begin military service. Then we marched somewhere, boxed up our clothes and mailed them home, coming to the realization that our new life would be different from drinking beer behind a bowling alley.
The Vietnam War was winding down, at least for the United States, though the North Vietnamese would launch a huge attack against South Vietnam toward the end of March as we conducted infantry training at Camp Pendlelton. (In September, now a Private First Class, I would find myself in an Army hospital called Camp Kue on Okinawa, sharing a ward with American advisors who'd been wounded helping the South Vietnamese forces stop the communists.)
In 1991, I visited the footprints on a vacation to San Diego with my girlfriend. (Now My Fine Wife or MFW.)
In 2002, I stood on a hill in Vietnam called Con Thien with a Vietnamese guide who told me about the obliteration of his village by B52s, bombing the NVA advance.
But on a Friday night, January 14, 1972, I stood on yellow footprints. Oh, right before we boxed up our clothes, this happened:
(The following scene is rather accurate, except there's no C&W music. Just buzzzzzzz.)
On this 48th anniversary of my enlistment, I pay my respects to Tom Poto and Steve Lovell, two of my comrades who are no longer with us. RIP, bros. Hard to believe we were once young together.
