Quentin R. Bufogle's Blog, page 18
March 23, 2009
CONFUCIUS SAYS
While having dinner with some friends at an Asian restaurant this weekend, opened a fortune cookie and was stunned to find the following . . .
"Four basic premises of writing: clarity, brevity, simplicity and humanity."
Perfect. Doubt if Hemingway could've said it any better. All anyone really needs to know about writing in a nutshell . . . well, fortune cookie -- and in ten words or less (brevity). Amazing. The power of words.
As I sit writing this I'm half aware of a movie playing on the tube. 'Total Eclipse.' Leonardo DiCaprio portraying the great symbolist poet, Arthur Rimbaud. Rimbaud. I vividly recall how I first stumbled upon the name.
It was nearly twenty-five years ago. A summer spent knocking around the island of Martha's Vineyard with my best friend, Doug. A couple of beach bums living in the basement of an islander named Tommy Pachico who'd befriended us. Tommy's family owned a local construction company and he offered us the space out of the kindness of his heart.
It was an unforgettable summer. One I know I'll write about in great detail one day. That summer Doug and I painted houses to keep ourselves in beer and pizza -- and I dated a girl who was a dead ringer for the actress Dana Plato. She worked at a snackbar in the Oak Bluffs marina, and one afternoon while eating an ice cream cone in a black string bikini, brought all traffic on Circuit Avenue to dead standstill.
It was the summer I made my first attempt at a novel. (No! I mean writing one!) 70,000 words in a series of spiral notebooks that went nowhere. The summer too, while browsing in the famous Bunch of Grapes bookstore, I happened upon a book that would have a profound influence on me.
'The Time of the Assassins.' Henry Miller's "study" of Rimbaud. I was thunderstruck. I doubt if any book will ever affect me in such a way again. Rimbaud believed that words were talismans -- magic charms with a power to touch the soul which transcended their literal meaning.
I don't know if words are truly magic charms, but I can tell you this: I've dabbled in more professions than I care to remember; both blue and white collar; both physically and intellectually demanding -- and writing is the most difficult, most inscrutable, most frustrating, most all-consuming and most intensely gratifying of all.
There's nothing as powerful or profound as the written word. Whether a book by Henry Miller, the poetry of Arthur Rimbaud, or just ten words found on a slip of paper inside a fortune cookie. Truly amazing.
"Four basic premises of writing: clarity, brevity, simplicity and humanity."
Perfect. Doubt if Hemingway could've said it any better. All anyone really needs to know about writing in a nutshell . . . well, fortune cookie -- and in ten words or less (brevity). Amazing. The power of words.
As I sit writing this I'm half aware of a movie playing on the tube. 'Total Eclipse.' Leonardo DiCaprio portraying the great symbolist poet, Arthur Rimbaud. Rimbaud. I vividly recall how I first stumbled upon the name.
It was nearly twenty-five years ago. A summer spent knocking around the island of Martha's Vineyard with my best friend, Doug. A couple of beach bums living in the basement of an islander named Tommy Pachico who'd befriended us. Tommy's family owned a local construction company and he offered us the space out of the kindness of his heart.
It was an unforgettable summer. One I know I'll write about in great detail one day. That summer Doug and I painted houses to keep ourselves in beer and pizza -- and I dated a girl who was a dead ringer for the actress Dana Plato. She worked at a snackbar in the Oak Bluffs marina, and one afternoon while eating an ice cream cone in a black string bikini, brought all traffic on Circuit Avenue to dead standstill.
It was the summer I made my first attempt at a novel. (No! I mean writing one!) 70,000 words in a series of spiral notebooks that went nowhere. The summer too, while browsing in the famous Bunch of Grapes bookstore, I happened upon a book that would have a profound influence on me.
'The Time of the Assassins.' Henry Miller's "study" of Rimbaud. I was thunderstruck. I doubt if any book will ever affect me in such a way again. Rimbaud believed that words were talismans -- magic charms with a power to touch the soul which transcended their literal meaning.
I don't know if words are truly magic charms, but I can tell you this: I've dabbled in more professions than I care to remember; both blue and white collar; both physically and intellectually demanding -- and writing is the most difficult, most inscrutable, most frustrating, most all-consuming and most intensely gratifying of all.
There's nothing as powerful or profound as the written word. Whether a book by Henry Miller, the poetry of Arthur Rimbaud, or just ten words found on a slip of paper inside a fortune cookie. Truly amazing.
March 8, 2009
GYPPED!
Due to the recent flap over President Obama 'dissing' British Prime Minister Gordon Brown, I'd like to do my part for Anglo - U.S. relations . . . offer up the ol' 'olive branch' (so to speak).
First of all, I'd like to publicly apologize to you, Mr. Prime Minister, as well as the people of Britain. After giving President Obama and the First Lady many thoughtful and expensive gifts, you were presented with a box set of DVDs (many of them Spike Lee flicks). You, as we say here in the States, were 'gypped'.
Please don't be angry with President Obama. He's new. I'm sure there was no slight intended. DVDs or half-off coupons for the local Burger King may not seem appropriate gifts for a man of your stature; but honestly, the guy's had a lot on his mind lately. Give him a pass on this one.
Great Britain is a great country (hence the name). Over the past 200 + years you've given many things to us yanks. Independence, for one thing (well . . . we did have to beat you in a war); The Beatles; The Stones; James Bond; Jack the Ripper; Fish & Chips . . . and a common language which -- if current immigration trends continue --no one in this country will be speaking.
Let me make things right. Just provide me with a mailing address and I'll send you a copy of my book, 'Horse Latitudes,' gratis -- I'll even autograph it if you'd like. Again, no charge. I know this might not sound like much of a peace offering, but, like most Americans, I've fallen on hard times. My latest royalty check was for $9.58 -- enough to buy two lattes at Starbucks, or an office building in downtown Detroit.
God save the Queen!
First of all, I'd like to publicly apologize to you, Mr. Prime Minister, as well as the people of Britain. After giving President Obama and the First Lady many thoughtful and expensive gifts, you were presented with a box set of DVDs (many of them Spike Lee flicks). You, as we say here in the States, were 'gypped'.
Please don't be angry with President Obama. He's new. I'm sure there was no slight intended. DVDs or half-off coupons for the local Burger King may not seem appropriate gifts for a man of your stature; but honestly, the guy's had a lot on his mind lately. Give him a pass on this one.
Great Britain is a great country (hence the name). Over the past 200 + years you've given many things to us yanks. Independence, for one thing (well . . . we did have to beat you in a war); The Beatles; The Stones; James Bond; Jack the Ripper; Fish & Chips . . . and a common language which -- if current immigration trends continue --no one in this country will be speaking.
Let me make things right. Just provide me with a mailing address and I'll send you a copy of my book, 'Horse Latitudes,' gratis -- I'll even autograph it if you'd like. Again, no charge. I know this might not sound like much of a peace offering, but, like most Americans, I've fallen on hard times. My latest royalty check was for $9.58 -- enough to buy two lattes at Starbucks, or an office building in downtown Detroit.
God save the Queen!
February 21, 2009
SHOWIN' SOME SKIN
Kinda disappointed by the turnout for my recent event, "SHOPPING FOR UNDERWEAR," this past Saturday at the Walmart on Rainbow Blvd. here in beautiful Las Vegas, NV.
Maybe if I'd given my Goodreads friends more than 24 hours notice it might've been a bigger draw. Oh well. Still think it's a winning combo. Books and underwear. Think about it. Author's doing book signings in their skivvies. Who wouldn't like to see Stephenie Meyer signing copies of 'Twilight' in a merry widow; or Wally Lamb putting his John Hancock on 'The Hour I First Believed' in a leather thong (this I'd pay to see)?
Let's face it folks. Books just ain't sexy no more. F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway were the rock stars of their day -- now, unless you've written a book about the star-crossed love affair of a teenage vampire and his emotionally unavailable, werewolf girlfriend; or are an ex-stripper and recovering bolimic/nymphomaniac with a gambling addiction peddling a memoir, your chances of selling enough books to earn back even a minimal advance (if you can get one) are nil.
Well, I intend to do something about it. I'm gonna start showin' some skin. Although I don't have any book signings lined up at the moment, I'll be hittin' the iron; doing my push-ups and sit-ups and doubling up on the Hydroxycut. Puttin' some time in at the tanning salon. It's time to get hardcore. When the opportunity presents itself I'll be ready. Wait'll ya see what I'll be wearing.
Maybe if I'd given my Goodreads friends more than 24 hours notice it might've been a bigger draw. Oh well. Still think it's a winning combo. Books and underwear. Think about it. Author's doing book signings in their skivvies. Who wouldn't like to see Stephenie Meyer signing copies of 'Twilight' in a merry widow; or Wally Lamb putting his John Hancock on 'The Hour I First Believed' in a leather thong (this I'd pay to see)?
Let's face it folks. Books just ain't sexy no more. F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway were the rock stars of their day -- now, unless you've written a book about the star-crossed love affair of a teenage vampire and his emotionally unavailable, werewolf girlfriend; or are an ex-stripper and recovering bolimic/nymphomaniac with a gambling addiction peddling a memoir, your chances of selling enough books to earn back even a minimal advance (if you can get one) are nil.
Well, I intend to do something about it. I'm gonna start showin' some skin. Although I don't have any book signings lined up at the moment, I'll be hittin' the iron; doing my push-ups and sit-ups and doubling up on the Hydroxycut. Puttin' some time in at the tanning salon. It's time to get hardcore. When the opportunity presents itself I'll be ready. Wait'll ya see what I'll be wearing.
