All writers are observers, and nothing more. When I was a young man, I thought it glamorous to be a writer. Back then gas was less than $1 a gallon, cigarettes ran you $.65 a pack, and all the problems in the world seemed to be happening someplace else. California, to me at least, was just as distant as the other side of tomorrow, and tomorrow never seemed to come.
Of course, I'm idealizing the past. We all do. It seemed a simple place. The good guys wore white, bad guys wore black. Computers were still made stateside, everyone seemed to have money (that was the illusion, anyway) and the movies weren't solely plotted around what wizards, gnats, and gypsies did. CGI didn't really exist yet, and neither did the current Administration. No, it was a utopia of sorts.
Like I said, California was as distant as the other side of tomorrow. It was a far-off place that had so fewer people than it does today that I can't even imagine what all the empty spaces of south Orange County looked like. None of the madness was here yet. I wonder then, sometimes, what was the tipping point?
It's easy to blame the Internet for some things. I mean, really, it opened up a Pandora's Box of sorts and while it's certainly responsible for bringing people together I feel as though it's equally responsible for pushing people apart.
Internet has it's own language. Some of that language trickles down into fadlike vernacular, as in MILF. I recently completed a stage play that subtexts the whole MILF thing. It started as a comedy but as I continued writing I realized that the jokes weren't really working for the context; granted, I'm pretty funny but if you tune in to Dateline's To Catch a Predator show, you'll see just how f*ckin' sad people can be, and how lonely and pathetic the Internet can make some.
I don't know. Worked on some chapters of West Coast Hearts and felt I had hit a breakthrough. This wouldn't be an overnight project. There's a lot more commentary. But I am distracted by life these days.
A while back I began to outline this thing but then stopped to revise Dryline Rhapsody and North of Here. Those two novel manuscripts were subsequently sent off to NY. Then started working on MILFord and No Daylight. Now that those two are in the can, I found a plot course I could extend into West Coast Hearts, and so have thrown myself into it with earnest.
All writing starts when you stop to listen. It's hard work but it is worth it. It may turn some into millionaires or simply be a labor of love. The outcome remains to be seen.
