Jeffrey Ricker's Blog, page 66

The gift and curse of time

Friday morning, and I'm waiting for the coffee to brew. I've fed the dogs and watered the plants already, been and gone to the gym, and stopped at the grocery store. In a little while, I have to head to the office.

There's a reason I get up at five in the morning. I never have enough time. This also is turning into one of those periods where my writing output is slowing, not exactly to a trickle, but the river is more of a creek now. I'm writing a noir story and I've introduced two characters ...

New Normal

That's the title of one of my short stories, which is being e-published by Untreed Reads. You'll be able to read it on your Kindle, your Nook, your Kobo, even your iPad (though I will positively seethe with envy if you read it on an iPad; don't let that stop you, mind). Would you like to see the cover? Of course you would:

As soon as I know a release date, rest assured I'll post a direct link here. And you'll buy it. Right? Right?

Finally, what I've been dying to tell you for the last month

My book's getting published.

Wait, I feel like that doesn't quite capture my level of enthusiasm.

MY BOOK'S GETTING PUBLISHED.

Well, that's better, but still….

MY BOOK'S GETTING PUBLISHED.

Oooh, nicer.

In any case, here's the details from the press release:

July 9, 2010

Press Release: New Title from Jeffrey Ricker

Bold Strokes Books is pleased to announce the acquisition of Jeffrey Ricker's new novel, Detours, scheduled for release in 2011 from Bold Strokes Liberty Editions.

Detours – Coming in...

Recharge

I'm at a stage in my writing recently where I've been working on several projects at once, waiting for one of them to grab my hand and take off at a run. So far, none of them seems to be clamoring for a larger share of my attention. Sometimes I wonder if a) I should just pick one at random, like throwing a dart at the board; b) if this might not be a sign that none of them is particularly worthy of my attention (I hold the least amount of belief in this option, whether that's due to...

I'm a sucker for a pushed-in face and a turned-up nose

At first I couldn't tell if the four-footed black blur was a dog or a cat. I was on my bike, listening to (what else?) Kylie heading up Clayton Road through the Grove on my way to Forest Park. When I crossed Tower Grove I saw the dog trotting the other direction, and it took me all of one second to have the following conversation in my head: Was that a cat? Black cat? Janet Jackson. No, it's a dog. Look out for that car. I should stop. Where'd he go? Maybe he belongs to someone wait he has...

Another list, because lists make everything comprehensible

So, here's what I'm working on these days:

The first draft of my second novel is percolating. I wrote it last fall, closed the file and set it aside, then re-opened it about a month ago. And started thinking. And realized that I changed voices midway through. And one device I used was woefully lacking. And I need to back up before it can go forward.I finished the first draft of my story about angels. I think it's missing something, but I've asked a friend to read it and tell me what that...

Oh really? Have you read the part about shellfish? How about mixed fibers?

So, Michael ordered two copies of Paws and Reflect (a book about gay men and their dogs which happens to include essays by both Michael and me; you do have a copy, yes?) from a certain behemoth bookseller whose name you surely know. (Gosh, that reads like a Syms commercial.) In one of the copies he found the card pictured in the accompanying photo.

Pause. Get out soapbox. Continue.

Now, I have no doubt that the person who inserted this in the book was not authorized to do so by the behemoth...

Dads

Since yesterday was Father's Day, our house was filled with family. Not my family, but my partner's. Ironic, since neither of us is a parent, I guess, but I've never been that clear on the proper use of the word irony (Alanis, it seems, is not alone in that). I did make the call home to my father to wish him a happy Father's Day as well as a happy birthday, which was also yesterday.

I say "call home" but calling him at their house in the Pacific Northwest is not really calling home for me...

A day of writing (to order)

I wrote more yesterday than I typically write in an entire week. Over 3,700 words, mostly in the space of five hours, thanks to a day of writing with my friend Pamela (otherwise known as Shark-Fu) at our friendly neighborhood gelato palace (it's amazing what camaraderie and the prospect of a little dessert will do for your motivation), and also thanks to this little utility that shuts off all the chatter so readily accessible from my keyboard (chatter that, yes, I know I'm adding to at this v...

I am NOT a poet

The sentences just came out funny. I blame lack of coffee….

In the dream, I ran,

my feet fly across the ground barely touching

The colors of my shirt and my shoes surely bleeding

into contrails of velocity behind me.

No effort, no strain, my feet devouring the distance,

I become speed.

It's strange how I have these dreams more often now

when I've started to jog again

than I did when I could barely walk

when stairs drove knives into my heels

and my back wanted me only to lie down.

In the morning ...