William Lobb's Blog, page 34
October 29, 2016
Twenty Three Years of Sobriety, But the Day A’int Over Yet
October 28, 1993… that was the day I dumped the last of my Oxy, Percodan, Xanax and sweet Seconal down the toilet. God, I do love Oxy and vodka. Vodka is like air to me. But, on that day, 23 years ago, I simply could not puke and bleed and shake anymore. All I remember … Continue reading Twenty Three Years of Sobriety, But the Day A’int Over Yet →
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October 25, 2016
We Are Consumers and Profit Centers – The War on Drugs
I was watching that embarrassment last week, “the debate,” wondering when or if those two would get around to heroin and prescription pills and the addiction epidemic. The debaters did, for about thirty seconds. Hilary mouthed some pre-packaged words about the “war on drugs” and police and enforcement and then, I don’t know… … Continue reading We Are Consumers and Profit Centers – The War on Drugs →
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October 9, 2016
30 Second Elevator Pitch – Third Step
So, I was told that before my book officially “hit the streets” (sounds ominous, right?) that I should have an elevator pitch or speech. Basically that means what I can say about my book in the amount of time I’m stuck on an elevator with some poor, unexpecting, future reader… Here’s my shot — what … Continue reading 30 Second Elevator Pitch – Third Step →
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The Election
I average four text messages a week from people I’ve never met either struggling with addiction or a friend or relative of a victim. I have six friends, including two of my closest friends with cancer. Not some bullshit cancerous pimple, but deep in your guts, fuck your life cancer. All I ever see debated … Continue reading The Election →
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October 2, 2016
The Broken Bones of Age
Face plant. I feel the pebbles of the pavement on my cheek. Thirty seconds ago I was hitting it hard, my fourteen pound titanium bicycle and I were tearing up a short, punchy hill. Slow motion and silence… again. I lay there on the pavement. I do a quick inventory. First … Continue reading The Broken Bones of Age →
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August 24, 2016
The Publish Button, Complete With Sireeeeens
So, here we are at the very end. This is where things start to get interesting. After six months of bitching and complaining about friends and editors and marketing people, after all that screaming and blaming the universe, I am now down to the last 300 printed pages to read myself, out loud, Shari’s orders. … Continue reading The Publish Button, Complete With Sireeeeens →
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August 6, 2016
Our Hero Meets His Match…
Settling in and enjoying the heady aroma of my book burning in the fire pit, I remember I have to call Rob. You know Rob by now, the guy with the sound advice. The guy who actually helps me and wants me to succeed? The guy who’s advice I finally decided to take? I call … Continue reading Our Hero Meets His Match… →
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August 2, 2016
Self Publishing Becomes Self Loathing…
And so self publishing becomes self loathing… I hate this book. I hate me for ever starting it. I hate every word. All 128,000 stupid, fucking, misspelled, incorrectly punctuated, echoed, passive words. I hate editing. I’ve read this nightmare 12 times. No one should have to do that – ever. I hate Frankie, I hate … Continue reading Self Publishing Becomes Self Loathing… →
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July 26, 2016
In a mood, what is wrong with me?
Last night I was in a mood, I was looking for it. Looking for trouble. This happens when I’m in a situation I don’t like and I’m mad about something totally unrelated to the current situation. I don’t like me in that mood, I scare me when I’m in that mood, it is so strange, it’s … Continue reading In a mood, what is wrong with me? →
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July 19, 2016
Snake oil… Step right up! Or, How do we get published, really?
So, adrift, me and the butchered great American novel (see last post), I turn to the source of all of man’s accumulated knowledge. As G.W. Bush called it, “The Google.” How to get published… I The Googled all kinds of stuff – self publishing – literary agents – how the fuck do I get anyone … Continue reading Snake oil… Step right up! Or, How do we get published, really? →
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