T.L. Gray's Blog, page 45

Dr. Sax, Jack and Old Bull - And Let Me Tell You It's Full ...

My post this morning is an example of me having a little fun with some literary humor (as if that’s possible, because we all know that the word ‘literary’ is actually a secret code word for elitist, boring, tedious, humdrum, platitudinous, insipid, prosaic …well, you get the idea… it’s a lot of superficial nonsense of abuse to a word that boring people use to try to make themselves look smart, or at least smarter than what they really are, but I’m getting off topic …where was I …oh, yeah…) by the ever-loving, roaming, philosophical genius known as Jack Kerouac (although I’m not sure everybody loves the writer, poet, artist, as much as I do, but I digress) and his love for the ever-popular, ever-controversial, ever-lovin’ use of the fantastical, humorous, and quite often abuse of the illicit run-on sentence in his off-the-beaten-path, fantasy, quirk (“Kerouac dreams of America in the authentic rolling rhythms of a Whitman or a Thomas Wolfe, drunk with eagerness for life,” so says John K. Hutchens on the cover) of a book titled “Dr. Sax” – I’m rolling in laughter this morning and I hope you will too, but if you don’t then you’ve just got no good laughter in you and your sense of humor is broke and in need of a remedy.
~
Dr. Sax: But I sank the 8-ball! – you can’t shoot now!

Old Bull: Son (patting the flask of Old Granddad in his backpocket with no deprecatory gesture) the law of averages, or the law of supply and demand, says the 8-ball was a goddamn Albino 8-bawl (removing it from pocket and spotting it and lining up white cueball with a flick of his forefinger to speck on the green beside it, simultaneously letting out a loud fart heard by everybody in the poolhall and some at the bar, precipitating various reactions of disgust and wild cheer, as the Proprietor, Joe Boss, throws a wadded paper at Old Bull Balloon’s ass, and Old Bull, position established, whips out a bottle to the light (said flask) and addresses it a short speech before taking a shot – to the effect that alcohol has too much gasoline in it but by God the old Hamp-shire car can go! promptly thereafter re-pocketing it and bending, neatly and briskly, with amazing sudden agility, neat and dexterous, fingertip control of his cuestick, good balance, stand, the forefingers all arranged on the table to hold the cue just so high, just right, pow, the old pots the yellow one-ball into the slot, plock, and everybody settles down for the humor to see a good game of rotation between two good players – and though the laffs and yaks continue into the night, Old Bull Balloon and Doctor Sax never rest, you can’t die without heroes to look after you.)
Till next time,~T.L. Gray

Starting Off Right

It’s a new year, it’s a new day, and it’s a new time in my life.  It’s time to put the past behind me, let go of the grief and embrace the excitement of what’s here and what’s to come.
I’m determined to put joy and happiness in my life.  I’m not naive.  I know there are days when the pain will still hurt and I’ll find myself in tears, but I believe with my whole heart that I possess the power to in joy.  I allowed grief into my life, because I needed that time to mourn what I’ve lost, what I’ve left behind.  If I would have stuffed that pain away, I wouldn’t have healed, only capped something that would explode even more damaging later. But, now is a new season… there was a time to grieve, now it’s time laugh. 
I know that my emotions are not like a switch to turn off and on at will, but I also know that what I pour into me is what will come out of me.  I allowed pain and grief, and then I let it all out through my words, my blogs, and my stories.  I do not allow it any longer.  I will now fill my heart, my mind, my soul with joy, happiness, hope and laughter. 
I have set many lofty goals for myself this year, and with the same determination I used to fulfill my goals last year, I will endeavor to do the same. 
Be happy, people; if not for yourself, then for me.  I want to be happy. I want to laugh.  I want to sing.  Let’s start this New Year off right… with joy.
Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

O' Time

By T.L. Gray

The last grain of sand has fallen through the hourglass, marking another passage of time - another year, another month, another week, another day, another hour, another minute, and another second has passed.
O’ Time, it has been the worst turn.
You’ve pulled me and stretched me to my farthest point, pushed me beyond my boundaries, plucked me out of my desolation and tested my limits. 
But you did not leave me to die.
You’ve wrapped me and folded me with the purest of love, opened my eyes to a beautiful world, allowed me to experience the touch of desire and strengthened my faith.
The first grain of sand will fall through the hourglass, beginning another passage of time - a new year, a new month, a new week, a new day, a new hour, a new minute and a new second to pass.
O’ Time, let this be the best turn.

Letter to an Asshole by Jeff Suwak

Every once in a while a story comes along that really gets me excited, makes me want to jump up and shout into the air, 'damn straight'.  Well, this article is one of those that had me nodding through the whole thing. Author Jeff Suwak writes an illuminating essay that focuses on 'lower class' writers such as Charles Bukowski, Upton Sinclaire and Jack Kerouac as compared to those recommended by the literary elite among the upper class snobs such as Shakespere, Byron and Chaucer.  When I read something, I look for something I can relate to, something that gives me hope to pull me out of the mess I've created, not read a bunch of pretty words that don't mean shit in the real world.  This article speaks to me the way Suwak says that Bukowski speaks to him.
Check it out, folks.

Letter to an Asshole by Jeff Suwakhttp://praguerevue.com/ViewArticle?articleId=3427 
"An asshole once told me that Shakespeare wrote predominantly about royals and the like because common people lacked the insight and intellectual subtlety needed to illuminate the human condition. His assessment was not restrained solely to the unwashed masses of Elizabethan England, but was instead used to bolster his point that the works of people like Charles Bukowski were flawed by nature and devoid of any literary or social merit.
His bone of contention was that writers like Bukowski glorified the ignorance of the lower classes, and that they could offer no worthwhile existential perspective. I found the whole conversation to be an absurd crock of horseshit, but the asshole also happened to be my English professor, so I kept my mouth shut and walked away. Just give me my A, Professor Asshole, so that I can get the hell out of here and get into grad school."
To read more, please visit the Prague Revue at http://praguerevue.com/ViewArticle?articleId=3427
If you like the article - please hit the 'like' button and share it with all your friends.
Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

Love For Sale

Lately, I’ve watched this world continue to spin with and without my consent to do so, and left me often feeling insignificant, powerless, yet a part of it all just the same.  What does it mean?
Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve watched consumerism lead the hordes into merriment and indulgences, as people attempted to buy each other’s affections. I remember my own marches, my own quests into that vain ritual. I understood it and didn’t view it as an evil thing.  I wasn’t jealous or angry at its practice going on around me, because if I had the means I would have more than likely been a happy participant of the madness.  But situations in life have forced me to the side lines and put me in a position to see a different aspect of things.
Over the years, I’ve worked so damned hard to fit in, but continued to find I’m a squared peg trying to fit in a round hole.  But, aren’t we all?  My whole life, everything I thought I believed, everything I worked hard to gain, everything I held dear, trusted or expected has been shaken.  I’ve been tested and found wanting.
On Christmas day, I watched the movie the Secret Life of Walter Mitty, and oh how it stirred those smoldering embers within me. I watched my journey on the screen in front of me – as I watched Walter transform from the state of existing to really living. 
The most poignant scene for me was the one with the helicopter.  As it was about to take off, Walter found himself too afraid to move; indecisive.  For me, his fear wasn’t about the pilot being drunk or the approaching storm, but of letting go of all the things that made him safe, all the responsibility that weighed him down and put him onto the spinning wheel, going and going and going but never getting anywhere.  He gave up who he was to be what was needed, and in the process lost his identity, his dreams.  Here he was at 43 in a strange place, staring danger in the face, yet too afraid until the woman of his dreams, his imagination, showed up in his imagination and started playing him a tune on the guitar– encouraging him to take the jump, to leap into his life despite the danger - to live or die trying.
I almost couldn’t hold back the tears, because this is where I’m at in my life.  The leap for me wasn’t leaving my marriage, moving into a strange place and finding myself alone.  It was discovering that it was okay to be that way, to not be needed, to not have to put my life on hold anymore to take care of someone else.  I’ve always took care of others - my handicapped parents, my brothers, my children, my husband, my church, my job, my community – but I failed to take care of me. 
I learned that all that care I gave to others never guaranteed love and care in return for me. Looking around me and seeing the absence proves to me that you can give, and give, and give… and not receive.  Much like how we rush out to buy those gifts to make those important to us happy, to show them how much we love them, but in reality we’re trying to ‘buy’ their love and appreciation for us, in exchange for them to love us in return.  We don’t think we attach those sentiments to our gifts, but we do, and we feel it when it’s not returned to us.  Love for sale.
This year, for the first time, because I expected nothing in either what I gave or received, I became truly appreciative of not only what I received, but for what I gave, because I gave with no expectations. How do I know this? Because I was very surprised when I received the love and appreciation I’ve fought so hard to get all these years, in return.  These are the hardest gift for me to receive from anyone – love and appreciation. 
I didn’t give fancy gifts, I had none to give. I didn’t receive any fancy gifts, but what little I got came from the heart and was given FOR me, not to me.  They were simple things I enjoyed and brought me pleasure and laughter.  And those gifts, though invisible to the eye, came wrapped with love and appreciation.
Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

The Five Best Fantasy Authors You Should Read and Why

By T.L. GrayAs an author I’ve had the honor and privilege of not only getting my hands on a some of the best literature this world has to offer, but I’ve been very blessed to get to know many of the authors behind those great works of art.
Writers’ are a strange and peculiar brand of people.  They see the world with wide, yet narrowed eyes.  What I mean by that is that they can see beyond boundaries, borders and boxes to see bigger pictures and brighter scenes.  But, with that broad vision come an acute precision, able to pinpoint what others can easily pass over or pretend doesn't exist.  We see the beauty and the ugliness, the gift of hope and the curse of doubt. 
There are a few people and books that haven’t simply touched my imagination, but reached deep into my soul and stirred my very being.  I’ve laughed and wept with these stories.  Some stories have fueled my desire to write, others intimidated me and pushed me to reevaluate.  Some of these authors have made me so jealous of their gift, I literally weep with appreciation just to be able to call them my friend.  Some have become my true friends and have inspired and pushed me in personal ways. 
There are many reasons, yet simple but complex reasons for these five particular novels/authors.  I hope you will give them a chance, and allow them to touch you as they have touched me. They’re in no particular order:
The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss – I’ve never had a book move me through every emotion than this one… I’ve cried, laughed, been excited, angry and outraged enraged while reading this fabulous tale.  Rothfuss is the only writer who intimidates me as a writer.  I know when I meet a good, talented writer, but Rothfuss I’d feel inadequate.  Then he goes and reproduces that same feeling of awe in the sequel - The Wise Man’s Fear. I don’t particularly like feeling that way, and everything in me wants to fight against that feeling, but I admire his skill, imagination and genius so much… I’m truly in awe. I’m truly a fan – not just a colleague.
That leads me right into The Emperor of Thorns by Mark Lawrence .  Actually, you should start with book one, The Prince of Thorns and read through The King of Thorns to finish with The Emperor.  What impressed me most from this writer weren’t necessarily the plot, but the wisdom, the personal reflections, platitudes and proverbs he planted in these books.  I’d sincerely consider this a philosophical series more than an epic fantasy.  To some readers, it’s the plot they read, but to me, I find myself meditating on certain phrases, often forgetting the plot for a time as I grasp the deeper meaning and pearls of wisdom.  Lawrence blows me away as Kerouac or Bukowski do. 
My third selection is from writer Jeff Suwak , author of the novella Beyond the Tempest Gate.  While Tempest Gate is a beautiful heroic tale that stretches the imagination and fuels the warrior spirit within me, it is an unpublished short story called “Rusted, Busted, Beautiful Things” that moves me.  There was sadness, need, a crying out from a thirsty soul in that piece that has stayed with me for many, many nights.  I’ve cried often, because this story came to me at a time when I felt my lowest, when I felt Rusted, Busted, but also Beautiful, deserving to not be forgotten and discarded as many of those pieces and buildings listed in that story.  I’m getting emotional now thinking about it.  His words touch my soul.  There have been many other short stories I’ve read from this particular author that also moved me, one about a man on the edge of a crisis of doubt taking a walk in the middle of the night and finding a friendly cup of coffee, polite conversation, and a meaning to life, another about boy coming of age and stepping into his destiny under the mysterious music of a guitarista,   Exceptional.  He’s destined to be one of the greats.
My fourth selection is The Riyria Series by Michael J. Sullivan .  To know a man is to know is heart, and I absolutely fell in love with Sullivan’s characters Hadrian and Royce.  Their chemistry, their connection, their stark sense of humor pours off the page.  I love these two characters.  I’d want to know them in real life, and I’m sure they come from various parts of Sullivan’s own personality.  He’s one of the nicest and helpful people I’ve met in this business.  But, these two protagonists stole my heart and I find myself often thinking about them and wanting to know more, revisit their adventures and live them all over again. 
My last selection was really hard to narrow, to define, to highlight, because there are so many great authors out there right now, so many whose works I’ve feel in love with, whose craft and artistry I admire, but I have to stick with the ones that totally move me in a very deep, almost spiritual, way.  So, rising to the top amongst a sea of favorites is Blood Song by Anthony Ryan . Valen al Sorna snatched my attention, stole my heart, and didn’t let go until I turned the last page, and then left me wanting more. Even now I feel a bit overwhelmed.  You’ll have to check out my review on my blog to see how I really felt about the story.
Well, folks… those are my top five.  They may change in the coming years or months, but for 2013 those would be my favorite picks.  My advice would be to read these books and form your own opinion. Some of you will agree and some will not, but that’s not really my problem.
Thank you for reading.Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

The Rumble of Thunder

The rumble of thunder and the tapping of raindrops atop a tin roof stir my imagination, and make me smile.  My sweet, you know the music I love best. Sing to me.  Stir my passions.  Take me away to where only the imagination can travel. Let us dance together heart to heart, soul to soul, spirit to spirit. 
The rumble of thunder and the tapping of keys atop my keyboard stir my imagination, and make me smile.  My sweet, you know the words I need to hear. Write for me.  Stir my passions. Let your prose be birthed from my heart, travel through my veins, and flow from the tips of my fingers. Let us write together heart to heart, soul to soul, spirit to spirit. 

We dance, we write, we laugh, we cry, we kiss, we sigh, we live, we die, together, you and I. 
Till next time,~T.L. Gray

No More Waiting

I feel like I’ve spent most of my life waiting on something to break through, someone else to make a move, somewhere else to be the home I’ve searched for my whole life; waiting to be loved, to be accepted, hell… just to be remembered. Well …no more waiting.
I made a resolution with the New Year to put my grief behind me, put away those broken dreams, let go of the pain of loss and rejection.  I can’t fly with these things tethered to my ankles keeping me grounded.  Waiting has benefited everyone else but me.  Waiting allows my soul to be stripped away piece by piece. 
I’ve been paralyzed to move forward; because moving risks losing what I’m afraid to lose. I realize, I have nothing left to lose, except me. Moving forward may break my heart, but it saves my soul.
In retrospect, I was waiting for me all along, I just was too focused on others to see that.  I’m a broken soul, shattered into many pieces, and all this waiting was me trying to fill those cracks with something else, someone else, and somewhere else… when really the only thing that could fill them was me.  I just didn’t believe I was enough. 
I still have cracks, and some days I can feel the emptiness and sharp edges, and remember those unfulfilled dreams, but I’m not waiting anymore.  I’m enough.  Love me, hate me, want me, or walk away – no more waiting. When  you’ve got nothing to lose,  you’re not afraid to move.
Some of you won’t like the new me, because you’ve fed for so long on pieces of me to fill your own holes.  Some of you have been water to my thirsty soul, and I know with all my heart you are with me – and we’re moving, not waiting.  We will fly together – and if not, I will fly alone, but fly nonetheless.  I cry this morning, not in grief, but freedom. I feel the wind on my face, flowing beneath my wings, and the shackles falling from my ankles.  To those I leave behind… I’m so sorry, but I can’t carry you and I can’t allow you to keep me grounded.
Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

2014 Resolutions

I've made my list.  Have you?
Well, folks.  Christmas is just around the corner and then following that will be New Year’s Eve and the making, followed by a lot of breaking, of resolutions.  Have you given your any thought yet?  I have, but not just in the last few days or the last few weeks.  I’ve been thinking about mine all year. 
Last year I made some very drastic resolutions and I’m very proud to say I fulfilled them all.  I didn’t make too big a list, but I did list things that I didn’t know I could achieve, were bigger than I ever thought possible, yet I dared to dream and reach for them. 
This isn’t a fairy tale and everything didn’t turn out as well as I had hoped, while other things proved to be better than I ever expected.  I got a small glimpse of what I left behind today, and it’s not easy thing.  It tore my heart to pieces and I had a brief moment of panic and self-doubt.  But, then I had to remind myself why I made the changes I did.  To step backwards would be to erase all my hard work, my shed tears, my panic attacks, and choose to return to a life that didn’t make me happy, giving up the possibility I deserve and can find that love and happiness. 
Do I have a guarantee that all my dreams will come true?  No!  That’s not why I make the resolutions.  I make them because I believe that there’s a possibility they can come true, but with the full and complete understanding that it will probably be a tough fight, filled with lots of pain, lots of self-doubt, lots of fear, and lots of determination.  Nothing ever seems to come easy for me.  I know I’m going to want to quit, give up, and bury my head in the sand at least once a day, every day. But I’ll continue to push forward, one step at a time, one day at a time, so that when I look back on this time of year next year, it will be filled with even more accomplishments and resolutions. 
Life isn’t only living in those special and definable moments, such as the ones we make and fulfill in our resolutions.  Life is LIVED in the process, in the journey, in the fight, in the day to day, moment to moment, second to second.  My biggest resolution is to LIVE fully in every way, in every day, and appreciate my life and those who love me.
I’ve hit some low moments this year, some even to the point I thought I wanted to die and had no strength to even make it to the next minute.  I’ve also experienced some great moments of beauty, love and excitement – experiencing many beautiful things for the first time.  2013 was the most painful year of my life, but it was also the most alive I’ve ever been.
In 2014, these are my resolutions:1.   No more grieving.  2.   Run a 5k (no walking)3.   Go on a real date4.   Take a mini-vacation to one of my dream spots (on another list)5.   Finish one of my novels (completed and edited)6.   Sign and promote at least (5) five new authors with North Star7.   Save at least ¼ of the money I need to move to the PNW8.   Climb the steps at Amicolola Falls (I have to get there first)9.   Hike at least 50 miles of the Appalachian Trial (not at the same time.)           10.        Go White Water Rafting
What are your resolutions?
Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

28th Annual Big Climb - Seattle 2014

The Big ClimbAs we all consider the gifts this holiday season that we are  to give to our friends and family, let's not forget to give the gift of hope to those who are sick.
My friend and fellow author, Jeff Suwak, on Sunday, March 23, 2014 will participate in the 28th Annual Big Climb to raise money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. It's 69 flights of stairs, 1311 steps, and a gain of 788 feet of vertical elevation.
The money raised goes to fight leukemia and lymphoma. I would greatly appreciate any donations. More importantly, those suffering from leukemia and lymphoma will appreciate your donations.
Just click on the link below if you're interested. Thank you!  Apart from your giving, spreading the word is the next best thing you can do.  Please share this on your wall and have a Merry Christmas.
The Big Climb