Mark Matthews's Blog, page 55

The Jade Rabbit

A female infant is abandoned by her birth-mother in a small Chinese village and spends her first ten months in an orphanage. She is adopted and raised in the United States where she becomes a social worker in order to help children in a desolate Detroit neighborhood.

This woman is the first person narrator of The Jade Rabbit. My second novel due out in the next few months.

As director of a shelter for runaway and neglected youth, Janice Zhu Woodward gets pulled into the lives of the lost children of the streets and is forced to relive her own traumatic past in China. To stay strong and spiritually inspired, Janice emulates her adoptive mother and becomes an avid, nearly obsessed marathon runner. When a mysterious girl with dreadlocks is abandoned at the shelter's front door, the two form a relationship based on their common bonds, and together, rediscover the transcendental power of motherhood love.

Chapter one is available here: http://markmatthews.blog.com/the-jade...

So we beat on, boats against the current

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.

And I plagiarize, of course, but the saying brings to mind the importance of an ending, and a chance to blab about my personal preference.

I typically do not like an overly polished ending. I want a story or a novel to keep playing in my mind long after its over. I want to let my brain try and figure out, based on what I know about the character and experiences, how they will handle future challenges and conflicts. This is not always easy to do, as some sort of cathartic release typically needs to happen, and to keep some things dangling is to risk irritating an invested reader or viewer.

The closing lines of a novel can often dangle this out there. This line is from the novel, The Beach:

"I carry a lot of scars. I like the way that sounds. I carry a LOT of scars."  A line that keeps my brain wandering.

The Great Gasby with the Great ending…..

"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

In both of them, I, as a reader, can't help but think of my own scars, and can't help but think even as we try to move forward, we are against the current and constantly being bombarded, and perhaps are even doomed to repeat the same mistakes we have made in our past.  The ending is just the beginning of another novel, perhaps a similar set of internal psychological warfare to be waged, but the players and drama have been changed.  And some of our new baggage and scars weighing us down as we face it.

Okay, that paragraph was for my U of M English prof.  Let me get back to mass media.

There's The Killing, a "cool as the other side of the pillow" TV series on  AMC . Loved the cliffhanger ending (besides the 'out of character' actions of the male detective, which I assume will be explained later.) And now I am faced with a summer of deciding what happened, both using my knowledge of the characters and the pattern of the writers.

Of course, this is a series that will be continuing so it is perhaps not a fair example. So, there is one more example.

The Sopranos. A perfect ending.

I ran into Michael Imeperioli at an arcade one day. We were both there with our kids. He was in Detroit filming Detroit 1-8-7 and I approached him and told him I loved his work in Life on Mars, and added "you know the whole world is waiting on a Sopranos movie."

He is such his character I expected him to shoot me in the foot, but instead he just answered in his nasal voice "Well I don't think there's going to be one." He had a very concerned look on his face that I read he took expectations of his fans very seriously.

And I thanked him for his time, but I should have also thanked him for not ruining a perfect ending.

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Stray now available in paperback, first chapter of The Jade Rabbit

As of July 12th, Stray is available in kindle/ebook, and Paperback.  http://www.amazon.com/Stray-ebook/dp/B004EYUC10 .

I also added the first chapter of Stray to a seperate page on this blog for a preview.

Also, my second novel, The Jade Rabbit, is being polished, edited and revised and should be around early fall. The novel is told from the point of view of an adult woman, adopted from China at six months, who is now the director of a runaway shelter for youth on the other side of the world.

Stray in paperback, first chapter of The Jade Rabbit

Well, its about to happen. Stray should finally be available in paperback. Expect it sometime next week, brought to you by createspace. I added the first chapter of Stray to a seperate page on this blog for a preview.

Also, my second novel, The Jade Rabbit, is being polished, edited and revised and should be around early fall. The novel is told from the point of view of an adult woman, adopted from China at six months, who is now the director of a runaway shelter for youth on the other side of the world.

Addiction

There are too many answers to the question of what causes an addiction, and any simple, definite answers are short-sighted. Yet I truly believe one component is that anyone in their addiction has more knowledge how to make themselves happy or content than the rest of use.

Here's what I mean.

When you are in your addiction, you know exactly how to get your fix. When you are withdrawing from heroin, when you feel anxious or uncertain, or when you are having a craving, you know exactly what you need to do to make yourself 'right' again. There is something refreshing about knowing that a 40 ounce contains the same amount of alcohol, and that a bag of heroin from a trusted supplier is going to fix what ails you. And there is a definite cycle – you use something, you start to come down, you get an itchy angst for some more -and in addiction, you know exactly how to address that angst.

The cycle is a very self-enclosed, known, and sober life just doesn't work that way.

In the strange footing of the sober world, it is simply not always clear what is going to make you happy, what is going to validate your existence, and people and things are not nearly as predictable as a bag of weed or a shot of vodka (this is not to say ones behavior after using is predictable, but a can of pabst blue ribbon always contains the same amount of alcohol). Days are much more unpredictable when you are sober and trying to navigate through the universe finding meaning is a more harrowing path in many ways.

Of course, the wonders and potential is much more higher, the adventure of sober life ultimately much more strange, and you can never know a higher self and will always be just a fragment of your potential while you are using. And everytime you use something, it brings you to a lower place, and progressively gets worse, so that period of 'contentment' you have after using is actually a lower, more despair-ridden place than you would have ever had on your worst day sober.

That being said, the existential crisis is much less ubiquitous. You don't need to worry about how to make yourself happy, because you are stuck in the cycle of focusing on how to make yourself less miserable, if but for brief moments.

There is a Buddhist saying that all existence is suffering, and that all our efforts are to relief that suffering, if but for brief moments.

For an addict, how to reach these moments are much simpler than for the rest.

Mandatory reading list by the time you can drive

A list of books that I am going to have my daughter read before she gets the keys to the car. She is only seven, but now's the time to form her literary mind I suppose. I am thinking Charlie and The Chocolate Factory and James and The Giant Peach and the Ronald Dahl books. As well as some Judy Blume, of course. And during the early adolescent years Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer and the like. But I am sure I must be dating myself. There must be an updated, modern version.

And, of course, the list needs to be modified to the individual. My chinese daughter needs a unique set, including Shaoey and Dot for example.

"You can go to universal studios and ride the harry potter ride when you've read all the books,"  is a challenge I expect to have to pay up on someday.

Finding Goldbug Like a Five Year old.

It is perhaps the greatest book of our time. Richard Scarry's Cars and Trucks and Things that Go. And to place the hardcover book on your lap as a child and try to find the little smiling sneaky yellow guy on each page is a delight. The book is so large that it takes up your whole lap and you have to dive in. The goldbug is the one constant in a sea of pages which changes themes and colors. He is usually peering through a window, his antennas shooting out of his noggin and giving his hiding place away. But sometimes he is in his own little car or dangling from some obscure spot.

And it seems my five year old is a 'find gold bug' savant. Much better at finding gold bug than myself.

And isn't that what life is? Trying to find the gold bug in each of the scenes that transpose before our eyes? Isn't there some gold hidden in every environment, we just need to know how to look?

How would I have known that finding gold bug in that large hard cover copy was training me how to find joy.

But is it my eyes or my brain or my spirit that makes finding gold bug ever more elusive as I get older?  Hmmm.

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Stray the Novel: Origins

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Stray, the novel, is on Amazon and coming out in paperback.  http://www.amazon.com/Stray-ebook/dp/B004EYUC10

I actually finished the novel in 2001 and it initially found a publisher called Booksunbound.com. Unfortunately, they held it hostage on the 'coming soon' list for years before going out of business and the novel, and my signed contract, was set free.  I was very excited to finally publish it electronically , extra excited when it was downloaded a few times, and did some cartwheels when I made it temporarily for free and thousands and thousands of downloads followed.

The idea for Stray came to me after leaving work each day, which shared an expansive parking lot with an animal shelter, and hearing a cacophony of sad, desperate, explosive barks from the dogs in the fenced-in yard. They did not sound much different from the sad, desperate, explosive words I had just been listening to at the substance abuse treatment center where I worked. The stray, lost dogs at the shelter and the stray, lost souls at the treatment center all shared a common thread.  And, of course, those who were working to help them all had traces of 'strayness' in them as well, and easily diverted from there path of wholeness and tranquility.  There is not a therapist out there who shouldn't switch chairs at times with most every client.

I am also of the 'we are all connected' belif and that the butterfly wings in Arizonia add to the turbulent winds in Maine, and that every time a priest takes a gulp of wine during communion in Minnesota it causes a cow to burp in India.

So, the story weaves together a recovering alcoholic turned therapist, , a family of heroin wizards and changelings, a woman adopted from the far east who works at the animal shelter, and a newly orphaned alcoholic named James plus the  ten year old girl who eventually adopted his lost dog.

As for the novel, it is not the worst thing you ever read, but don't take my word for it. Here are some thoughts:

A review from Barnes and Noble

-Highly Reccommend! DON'T PASS THIS ONE UP!!!

I have to say this is a book not to be missed. The way the characters come together is great! Since I personally work with animal rescue, I particularly enjoyed the dogs in the story. The struggles with addiction are well described and may even be an inspiration to those in a personal battle. It is true what they say 'Love is the answer'.

And another from Amazon

- Intense read!, June 14, 2011

I loved this book! It was very believable & wonderfully written. I got it for free but I would've gladly paid full price! Be ready for an intense read that will change your views on addiction.

 

Nothing to offer the world but my own confusion

Nothing to offer but my own confusion.  Thanks for looking at my first post. I will not pretend you are even reading it or will continue to read it. That would be presumptuous.

Some of the confusing events I will blab about include writing, running down roads, recovery from addiction, parenting, and the behavioral health field. Fortunally I have a couple of  novels, a dozen marathons, 19 years sober, 2 children, and 17 years working as a clinician to provide some material. Read what you want, please skip whatever bores you, and know that I wish you well as you move on.

Nothing to offer but my own confusion. Its a Jack Kerouac quote, before I get accused of being a plagiarist, I will call myself out.  But I love the quote, so there you go. It is hard to take life too seriously, because its all we have. Whatever we do today should be important enough that we would trade away a day of our life for it.  But to take yourself too seriously is a terrible sin, so I will try not to do so.  I'm just a stooge looking for a couple of partners to connect with to make a comedy team, and to discover if I am a Larry, Curly, or Moe (or even a Shemp) is my existential crisis.  

I am just now reminded of a Buddhist meditation. Take a deep breath and hold it.  Hold it, hold it, hold it… good. Now imagine as you hold your breath that for all that moment you are dead.  Watch around you as the world goes on. See how it moves without you. Notice how insignificant you are.  People walk and talk and sleep and move and function. Even those tasks you had to do at work won't keep you from dying.

Now, when the time comes you want to rejoin them, go ahead and exhale and start moving amongst them again.  But see, you died for a minute, that wasn't so bad, life went on.

(The tragedy of your loved ones and all your possible pasts and futures notwithstanding.)

Sorry if that all sounds odd. Like I said, skip what you want. Yes, the only ones for me are "the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time."

That's quoting Jack again.   It's too late in time to have a new thought, I suppose, all of us just standing on the shoulders of giants and thinking we are tall or standing on third base and thinking we hit a triple.