Peter Prasad's Blog: Expletives Deleted - Posts Tagged "inspiration"
Jumpin' Jehoshaphat: Hail James Lee Burke
I've read enough 99-cent novels to fill a Kindle, all in the last year. If I were a musician, I'd be deaf in one ear. I'm not; I'm a writer, so pour me a beer. IPA preferred, never stirred. Garlic fries on the side, on a table top of cowhide.
I call together this gathering of the lame and insane that we may not pickle our brains. But celebrate instead pure food for our head. It's what we do in daylight, when we're not in bed. Enough said?
Rarely am I stopped dead in my tracks. But it happened again, amid panic attacks. I read the first two chapters of a James Lee Burke. I had an epiphany, a blinding light cut through the murk. Good, better, best -- James Lee Burke has passed the test.
I read up on the author and bought his new book. Then I found this quote and my spirit shook. Holy mackerel smack fire, this guy writes like fishing for a Great White with a meat hook.
Says James Lee Burke: "I think creativity is a gift. What it comes down to is, if a person writes every day as a way of paying back the debt he incurred by accepting the gift, he will see its validation in his life. I believe these books were the ones I was meant to write. God doesn't make mistakes."
Talk about food for the flame. James Lee Burke tells me why I am insane. Chalk it up to madness, but allow me to read James Lee Burke with new gladness.
Story, plot, dialog, character arc -- it's all there. But it's his description of the earth that brings tears to my ears. Dearest Mother Earth, sacred space for the entire human race, I love you so much you erase my face.
I have found a new Yoda, so excuse my yodel. I'm reading James Lee Burke and having a ball. On'Ya, dear readers, one for all.
(Inspired by The Druid's Club scene in Gurl-Posse Kidnap, due out this summer)
I call together this gathering of the lame and insane that we may not pickle our brains. But celebrate instead pure food for our head. It's what we do in daylight, when we're not in bed. Enough said?
Rarely am I stopped dead in my tracks. But it happened again, amid panic attacks. I read the first two chapters of a James Lee Burke. I had an epiphany, a blinding light cut through the murk. Good, better, best -- James Lee Burke has passed the test.
I read up on the author and bought his new book. Then I found this quote and my spirit shook. Holy mackerel smack fire, this guy writes like fishing for a Great White with a meat hook.
Says James Lee Burke: "I think creativity is a gift. What it comes down to is, if a person writes every day as a way of paying back the debt he incurred by accepting the gift, he will see its validation in his life. I believe these books were the ones I was meant to write. God doesn't make mistakes."
Talk about food for the flame. James Lee Burke tells me why I am insane. Chalk it up to madness, but allow me to read James Lee Burke with new gladness.
Story, plot, dialog, character arc -- it's all there. But it's his description of the earth that brings tears to my ears. Dearest Mother Earth, sacred space for the entire human race, I love you so much you erase my face.
I have found a new Yoda, so excuse my yodel. I'm reading James Lee Burke and having a ball. On'Ya, dear readers, one for all.
(Inspired by The Druid's Club scene in Gurl-Posse Kidnap, due out this summer)
Expletives Deleted
We like to write and read and muse awhile and smile. My pal Prasad comes to mutter too. Together we turn words into the arc of a rainbow. Insight Lite, you see?
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