E.J. Eisman's Blog, page 8
May 13, 2014
Where Is Spring?
The summer winds came in way too early this year; I like warm weather, but not right after snow. Much of my happy childhood memories revolve around this concept called “spring.â€Â Perhaps in your distant days the echoes of spring are still resident in your memory. It is one of my most beloved seasons, because it ushered in summer, and, Iâ€
m not stupid, the end of school. But, back in the day, (yes, Iâ€m starting to sound like my grandfather), we had beautiful sixty to seventy degree weather for like months. Birds didnâ€t already look like they were sweating. Flowers didnâ€t all come out on the same morning, they were scattered throughout this spring time, so people could enjoy them each. At the beginning there were the tulips around Easter time, and by the end there were explosions of color. Everywhere. My cherry tree is already losing its delicate pink flowers. They only came out a couple of days ago.  This warm weather is causing everything to accelerate. Danelions, yellow yesterday, are now gone to seed, ready to spread the grass with its annoying appearance, given a good stiff wind or a kid kicking them sets them free.  It is madness.
There was also a graduation loss of clothing. Women and men didnâ€t simple move to speedos and shorts the instant that the weather changed. It was gradual; loss of jacket, a short sleeve, then shorts, flip-flops, and then the occasional tank top. Now, the first time it hits above fifty, there are pale naked limbs everywhere.  How are we supposed to adapt? Where is the protocol? I have a perfectly good leather jacket that is collecting dust because there wasnâ€t that middle time between the winter and the summer. Iâ€m already wearing short sleeves to work, because of the heat. I look like Sipowicz for cristsakes! And itâ€s only May!
We need to get back to the old days. Whatever we are doing that we shouldnâ€t should stop.  Like the old saying, “Everything in moderation,â€Â Mother Nature.   I really donâ€t want to live in a region where summer is nine months of the year, and the other three months is snow.  If I want to live in Florida, at least I could take advantage of the no shoveling, or my brotherâ€s pool. There a jacket is a rarity, and bare limbs have a natural tanned hue.
May 8, 2014
The Interview
May 7, 2014
The Interview
The interns thought it would be funny to ask me stock questions about what I do.  They didn’t think I did anything, but I proved them wrong. Maybe…
What was the biggest stumbling block or frustration for you as a writer, and how did you overcome it?
My biggest stumbling block was not believing in myself.   I had been writing since I was in my teens, but was always afraid to show it to people.  Not that I didnâ€t have support in my childhood, but letâ€s just say I had parents (and when I say parents, I mean Mom)  that were constantly disappointed in my successes:
“Sorry, Aâ€s are not good enough, you can do better.â€Â
No matter how good I felt about myself, my parents would be able to put me back into my under the stairway, pit of no return, place. My self-esteem was somewhere in the toilet for most of my life, but until I was in my middle thirties I started to unburden myself from others disappointments. I said, “fuck it†and started up my own band after years of teaching myself how to play guitar. Despite how poorly I suck at playing and singing at the same time, people still had fun and applauded, so I learned to set my expectations of myself to somewhere less than the high bar I had set. There is an audience out there for me. A lot of writers feel they wonâ€t be good enough, but they expect too much. If you are true to yourself, eschew negative people, and do your best at telling a story, there will be someone out there to read you too!
What role does social media play in staying connected to readers and/or building an audience?
I think it has a big role. Iâ€m a friendly guy, but I donâ€t have a million friends, all over the country and throughout the world to get the word out that I can write. Facebook, Twitter, GoodReads, YouTube, Pintrest and others get out the word, that here is this guy, writing semi-decent novels and maybe youâ€d be interested in reading one (or more) of them. My weekly blogs generate interest and traffic to my website. Certainly, there are more people knowing that I write now that Iâ€ve been on these outlets for several years.
How did you get your first literary agent?
HA! Funny. Still looking. Do you know of any? Iâ€ve self-published my last two books through Authorhouse.   I know it is pretty cocky to say, but I think for Mariline Iâ€d like to try to go the conventional route. Iâ€ve build a “brand†for my writing and have a great online personality.
What patterns, habits, or motivational techniques have best served you on your journey to success?
I get an hour break at lunch (yes, I have a day job). I sequester myself with Mozart streaming off the internet and I type away. I like to chart out my book before I start to write, so I already know what the chapters will be about. As I drive to work in the morning, I donâ€t listen to music. I have thoughts of the chapter rolling around in my head. By lunch time Iâ€m reading to go.
In one sentence, whatâ€s your best piece of advice for getting a book published?
Donâ€t give up.
Has a particular rejection ever been helpful to you? What were the details?
Iâ€ve accepted my failures as a part of me, but Iâ€m not looking back. Getting one star review for Malaise was hard, but I take it as a learning experience.  Not everyone is going to like my writing. Someday I will look back and laugh, but for now I will try harder.
What advice do you have for a first time writer?
Read, write, and learn as much as you can. Donâ€t be afraid of failures.
Another F*ing Cold
May 6, 2014
Another F*ing Cold
The Gods have spoken. I have no control. I have nothing but to except their guidance in this issue. This cold is knocking me on my ass. As you might remember, the last time I came back from Wisconsin I had a bad cold. I hemmed and hawed about it, but this one has me trumped. Iâ€
ve played all the cards I could, from Comtrex, Vicks Vapor Rub, to chicken soup, to a hot toddy, to dressing up in every warm thing I have and try to sweat it out, but this thing has got me. Just like a fly in a web, itâ€s been cocooning me in hot and cold, cough, sneezing, head ache, stuffy and runny, drippy nose, wheezing, lack of sleep and the coup de grace, an overall feeling like shit. Now, feeling like shit is something Iâ€m used to, but add all those other things to the mix and you just want to crawl under the blankets and wait for something to grow out of your head.
Colds have been around forever, ever since the cave man. Any time you get too many people together there are bound to have germs passing between them. Back then the cave man would have just died and been replaced by another, since there were so plentiful. Todayâ€s bodies, try in vein, to fight and fight, with the help of all kinds of over the counter medicines to keep us moving; sometimes they work, sometimes they donâ€t. Sometimes itâ€s a roller coaster ride you canâ€t get off until the end and you just have to suck up the ebb and flow of the virus as it, gangs up, fortifies it offence, and plans to go around your medicines. After all these years, colds have become smarter than the medications that have been sent into battle to fight for you. When I was a kid, the answer to everything was penicillin. Have a cold, have some bubblegum flavored penicillin. If you were really sick, they had a grape flavor. Being a kid with the grape flavor, you were instantly treated to sleeping in the penthouse suite on the couch in case, I suppose, you caught on fire with your fever, youâ€d be closer to the fire extinguisher in the pantry. On the couch, youâ€d be treated to the heaviest parade of extra blankets from past relatives and dead people youâ€d ever want to be under. Your parents would tuck in all the blankets neatly under you so you couldnâ€t move during the night. Just a head, covered with a sock hat and as slit for your eyes and the rest of you would be mummified until morning; if you survived. Parents have a way of over doing things, especially as when you are a kid, sometimes you actually think they want you to survive or something. When you arenâ€t sick, their, “go play in the street†attitude might make them seem otherwise. As a child, I was always sick; from measles, to chicken pox, to colds, strep throat, bronchitis, pneumonia, mononucleosis, and there was a point when there was a viral meningitis scare. Iâ€m surprised they didnâ€t just leave me at a K-Mart bathroom, just to get away from me. Iâ€ve been battling diseases for most of my life, you would think that I would have some antibodies set up for this shit by now. But NOOOOOO! As an adult, Iâ€m reduced to a childlike state, fighting the good fight for control of my body temperature, my breathing, and the fluids running, like cockroach in the light, out of my nose. I want to suck my thumb and get out my wubby blanket and have it tell me it will be all right. My girlfriend tries to help, but Iâ€m just a colicky baby. I donâ€t know what I want, but I want it now. In frustration, she shrugs her shoulders. Iâ€m sorry. Iâ€ll roll out the chicken soup, drink more fluids, and bundle on the clothes. I have to ride out the hurricane in my body, alone. Like the doctor in the emergency room that told me when I was bleeding profusely after I nearly cut off my finger, “It will stop bleeding one way or another,†I will temper my response, because like most things in life, this too, will pass.
April 26, 2014
Madison, Wisconsin
Madison, Wisconsin
This morning, again, I am plagued with sleeplessness in preparation for ending my time here in Madison, Wisconsin; my flight leaves at nine. Except for the thoughts of missing the plane, as our shuttle leaves at eight from the hotel, Iâ€m sure it will be an uneventful flight. I will remember the many people keeping my colleagues and I snug, fed, and liquored up during the off times of this weekâ€s training classes. First I must say that the bus drivers have been wonderful, even when the bus became full, the Radisson stepped in and provided another promptly. Kudos to the desk staff, who were always courteous, and having perpetual smiles on their faces.  To the bar staff, Paul notably, keeping us entertained with stories of his garden, his partner, and his life here in Madison. Iâ€ll remember my drinking buddies, Jim, who also happened to grow up in New Jersey, but now lives in Silicon Valley in California, and Johann, flew in from Holland, who was also for training.
Although I didnâ€t get out seeing any of the town, being tired after sitting in classes for hours, I still have an appreciation for the area. There is a certain beauty about the college town, although itâ€s suburbs and city could double for any other place, like Montreal, or upper New York. The people here were always nice, and there seemed to be a sense of peace within them, that kinda make you wonder what they are smoking. And can I get some? Travelers can be so obtuse to other people, being more worried about their own issues and not those around them, but I tried not to be that way. I listened to the heart beat of the sacred land heard what it was telling me; go fish!  Go enjoy!  Life is never so bad as it seems. You can see it in the smiles at the counter, in the classrooms, and on the street. It beckons me to believe that I too can achieve inner peace in this world of turmoil, poverty, crime and war. You can see it in the food they eat, Cheese Curds; such a simple yet complex substance, perhaps an elegant mirror of the people that eat them.   Dainty, tasty and you want so much more. As I fly out this morning I will remember all that Madison has offered me, and I will try to leave my skeptical side on the boarding ramp, because, you know, life is never as bad as it may seem.
