The JackB

"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." Groucho Marx

Archives for April 2012

1 Foolproof Way To Become a Better Writer

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Read, Write at Coco Momo
I am typing slowly because some of you are going to benefit from reading this post…repeatedly.

And yes I said that with an extra dose of sarcasm and snark.

If you take offense at that you should leave now and never come back, but remember if you do you will miss out on learning the many other secrets that will be revealed in a coming ebook.

So here is 1 Foolproof way to become a better writer. Are you ready for it? Are you sure? It is mind blowing.

Stop Trying To Reinvent The Wheel!

Stop trying to remarkable. Stop trying to be epic. Stop trying to be unique, interesting and amazing. Stop worrying about whether you have anything of value to say or share and just write.

It is not complicated, writing that is. There is a beginning, a middle and an end. You don’t need to construct a post that reads like the Declaration of Independence, War and Peace or Moby Dick.

Just write. Put pen to paper, finger to keyboard and let the words flow out of you. Stop worrying about who is going to read your posts. Stop hoping that you are going to be discovered and just write.

Stop letting that little voice in your head say that maybe your shit does stink and that no one is going to like, listen or read. The beauty of this big, beautiful world is that there will always be someone who likes you and what you share. There will always be someone who can relate to what you write.

Really. It is true. I know because I feel it, felt it, did it and done it.

Yes, I know that “done it” doesn’t sound right but I don’t care. Ma and Pa Steiner told me that when I was a grown up I would be allowed to break the rules. Well, I don’t know if I am a grown up but I am breaking the rules and it feels good.

Paralysis of Analysis

Many of us have a tendency to over think what we are doing.  I guarantee that I am among the most prolific bloggers you will ever meet. When I am given blocks of uninterrupted time I can produce multiple posts a day, write thousands upon thousands of words and do it with little effort.

Not only that but I can do it with relatively few errors.

The primary reason I can do it is because I have spent hours practicing my craft. I have taught myself how to produce under virtually any situation.

But that doesn’t mean that I don’t hear voices or little whispers that question my skill and my content. And I am not talking about you cranky motherfuckers who write me nasty letters because you trolls will never be happy with me.

No, I don’t need to swear but yes I did. Sometimes it feels good. Writing should feel good.

That is part of why you need to stop trying to reinvent the wheel because you do nothing but shackle your creativity and apply mental handcuffs. Save the cuffs for the bedroom and or your shrink and just write.

When you do that good things happen.

Just write. Don’t worry. Just write.

But What About The Reader

I am not suggesting that you ignore your readers or say that all writing advice is useless. Jayme has a post about writing that I really like, go read it. Write about things that you love, like, hate or are concerned about.

Those four posts are some of the most popular I have written and have generated a tremendous amount of feedback. Some of that has come via comments or pageviews, but the most has come via email. Emails that people wrote in which they shared their story and or remarked about what they liked about it.

That is because I just wrote from the heart. I didn’t try to be unique. I just wrote. You can do that too. You don’t need to use all of the blog tricks we read and or talk about here and elsewhere.

Just write. Stop trying to reinvent the wheel.

About Me/About You

Writing is about me and it is about you. I’ll let you decide which comes first. But I’ll also mention that there is a page in our blogs that is really important. It is the “About Me” page. It deserves it is own post so I am going to give it one, but not before I mention it here.

When you can identify what needs to be in your “about me” page writing becomes easier.

You can do this. Just write.

Sex, Lies & Blogging- The Post That Went Viral

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In the time it took you to read these words 1,983,983 other people pointed, clicked and surfed away from this cyber oasis. They left because they weren’t captivated, compelled or interested in anything they saw here.

The headline failed to hold their attention. They weren’t interested in hearing about being a dad blogger or reading the words I have written about blogging. They don’t care about tales of parenting or stories that may or may not be fiction.

Bam, I just lost another 459,984 potential readers. I guess I better offer something substantial so that those people with short attention spans can stick with it.

Those posts above are part of an incomplete collection or words I have written about blogging. It is a collection of thoughts, ideas and general advice for how to be a better blogger/writer.

Some of those posts really are worth reading. I didn’t link to them solely for you because I like to revisit them. I like to see if I have changed, evolved, and or grown. I like to remember. I like to review. It is a way to see if I have grown, not as a person but as a writer.

Building Connections

We are building connections, you and I. We’re taking a journey together down country roads and through mountain passes. Some of you will picture us heading towards Mount Doom to destroy the ring and others will see us rafting down the mighty Mississippi River. I am Huck Finn and you’re Tom Sawyer, or maybe it is reversed.

Doesn’t really matter, not as long as you identify with these words.

I ask you if you know what brings you joy and what makes you happy. I tell you that I feel like the universe is sending me signs and messages and then in the next breath say that I don’t believe in that kind of stuff.

I wonder out loud what happens when you get what you want. If I was completely fulfilled would I be the same writer. Let’s face it, some of my best stuff comes when I am really happy/sad/angry/scared. Damn, that makes me sound unhinged and kind of crazy, doesn’t it.

The Good, The Bad & The Ugly Of The Blogosphere

Some of you have discovered that not all that glitters is gold. Some of you are concerned because you have come across frauds, con artists and charlatans. You are angry, upset and concerned about whether you can trust those you meet online.

The answer is that we are all the same here as in the real world.  Perhaps it is better to say that some people will lie, cheat and steal from you in person or online. It is not nice, pleasant or good but it is real.

You need to pay attention. You need to make the best decisions you can based upon the information you have. If you go through my posts and my links you’ll see that I write about the boundaries of blogging.

I wonder about what lines should be drawn and where they should exist. You read the words I share with you and gain some insight into me. If you listen to my audioposts or watch my videos you learn more, but only a little.

That is not necessarily because I am guarded and cautious but because there are limits to what I share. And because sometimes I do a poor job of expressing myself or because you are in a hurry and you misunderstand.

Doesn’t matter what the cause is. What matters is that you pay attention. What matters is that you remember that there are real people mixed in here and that there are lots of good people online.

The generosity and goodness is heartwarming. If you ask for help you will find it. But it is always best to keep in mind that people remember how you made them feel. That is something I try to focus on. That is because I am a Taurus and we don’t always have such a gentle nature.

The Write Words

Every day I do my best to share the write words written right. Every day I hope that my posts go viral and that my children will see that being a daddy blogger is one way of turning dreams into reality.

It all started with a few keystrokes and the desire to do more than pound the pavement. There are days when I want to murder my blog. Moments of madness where I look at these words and wonder if I shouldn’t start over.

But I don’t. I don’t because of you who comment and you who don’t. I don’t because I have spent years saying that if you sustain your effort good things happen.

3,983 more people just pointed, clicked and moved on to the next place- but others didn’t. Others didn’t because they saw something here that resonated with them. They read your comment and decided to see why you said what you said. So they read my posts and bookmarked my blog and surfed over to your place.

And then they told a few friends who told a few friends, who told a few friends and suddenly we both saw amazing things happen. None of this takes place in a vacuum. We are all walking down this road….together.

Thank you again to all who have been my traveling companions. If you have read this far I would love for you to share a thought or two in the comments, especially those of you who spend most of your time lurking.

Thank you again, your presence here means more than you know.

Daddy Blog Like a Jedi Master

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The initial impact of the blow almost knocked me off of my feet but my size saved me from introducing my face to the floor. I am grateful for that because it would have hurt.

He has been wrestling with me for his entire life and has never found a way to beat me. I don’t think he worried about whether launching all 85 pounds of him would hurt me or that he might get hurt in the process either.

That is because he calls me dad and for a brief moment in time I am superman. I don’t know how long that period of time lasts but I suspect that we are starting to enter the latter stages of it.

The Jedi Master

He loves Star Wars and that makes me happy. It is something that we share. It is easy to remember what it was like to be an 8 year-old boy at the drive-in. I found it captivating.  Can’t say that I ever thought that one day my children and I would share that joy, at least not back then.

But I know for certain that when my wife was pregnant with him I thought about it. I talked to her belly and told the baby that I had no idea whether I would have a son/daughter but that one day I would be their Jedi Master.

It was cute and funny to me and something that I looked forward to.

And now a thousand years later I have learned that he wants to be the Jedi master and not the padawan. Call him a rookie or suggest that I might be the more powerful Jedi and he’ll roll his eyes at you.

That is because his generation got stuck watching the movies in the wrong order. His generation has had The Clone Wars to watch as they have grown where mine hasn’t. That won’t mean much to some of you, but it means something to me.

I am not talking George Lucas raping our childhood by messing with the movies either. What I am talking about is how I don’t know all of the Clone Wars characters the way that he does. I have other things to remember like when to pay our bills.

George Lucas
George Lucas (Image via RottenTomatoes.com)

It is ok with me. I don’t need him to call me anything other than dad and I am happy. Truth is that his behavior proves that even though he likes wearing the crown he still attributes the power to be residing in me.

But I admit that it is surreal to watch this boy grow. The little one who weighed 8 pounds at birth is a bit more than 10 times as heavy now. He is tall enough to reach most of the things he wants to get to and if he can’t he just grabs a stool.

Fifth grade is more than half way over and middle school is just around the corner. It makes me wonder when the growth spurts are going to hit and will they be like mine. His voice is still that of a child, but maybe he’ll be like me as I was at 15.

Maybe it will drop a few octaves and people will mistake his voice for mine.

Changes and Transitions

I don’t know where he is going to go to school next year yet and it troubles me. There are legitimate reasons behind this. It is not because anyone is screwing around or slacking off in any way.

Truth is I still don’t know where we are going to be living yet. I am working on it. The current place is fine for a while longer but I am ready to make more changes so that we can put down more roots.

If I were the Jedi master I would have that done already. Just ask Yoda, there is no try, do or do not is the mantra we follow.

Part of this is troubling and part of this kind of fun. There is some excitement in not knowing all the details. There is time to figure it out yet, but not quite as much as I would like.

And none of this settles the debate on where to send his sister for school or if somehow I’ll figure out a way to keep them at the same school for a bit longer.

I kind of feel a bit like I am Luke on Dagobah. He isn’t quite done with his training but he knows that he has to go help his friends. Life doesn’t always work within our time constraints now does it.

Eight Years Later

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Dr. Seuss Should Have Been a Dad Blogger
Oh The Places You'll Go

Eight years later I read the words I wrote while you lay unconscious and incapable of breathing and remember how you fooled the doctors. Dad, they told me that you were going to die and that I needed to be prepared.

I remember the noises that machine made, you know the one that kept you alive. I remember the docs who told me that I shouldn’t pay attention to the bells, beeps and whistles because they would confuse me.

They weren’t trying to be mean, rude or irritating. They were just trying to help but that didn’t help me. How could it. My father lay on this bed I was standing next to. You don’t know these things the way that I do because it wasn’t you who stood there. It was me.

It wasn’t you who had to figure out what to say to everyone- it was me. I had to think about what to say to grandpa. I was the one who told him and grandpa about Uncle dying. I made him cry. I told him that his son had died and I made him cry. That is not supposed to happen.

I had to think about how to tell my sisters, mom and everyone else. I had to think about what I would tell your grandchildren. You don’t have any other sons. My sisters have lots of stories and good ones, but the male line ends with me. I am the start and the finish.

That doesn’t mean that your daughters aren’t important because they are critically important, but I am the one that everyone says is just like you. I am the one who has a million and one of your mannerisms. I am the one who will have to take on a role others won’t.

You made it. You beat the odds and you kicked death in the balls and threw his bony ass out the door. I was and still so thankful.

When I think back upon the seven months we went through I wonder how it is I still have hair. I remember taking the big lug in that photo with me on lots of walks and a run or two.

I didn’t say much of anything to anyone about what I felt. I told one person and the lug. But years later it is easy for me to say that I was scared and nervous. You had a triple bypass two days before my daughter was born.

Two days. Do you know what that was like. Do you know how crazed I felt, worried that we would end up at the hospital while some man was cutting open your chest. Talk about torn loyalties.

I did what you would do. I picked my children first because it had to be done- but goddammit dad, I was scared and angry with you. And now I am angry again.

Angry because you aren’t taking care of yourself the way you should. I know all the reasons why. There isn’t any substance abuse here, never has been. That is good but it is one more reason why I am angry because you are too fucking smart to do this.

You dropped all that weight years ago and now you are putting it back on. I told you that I won’t watch in silence. I told you that I can’t sit by but I can’t stop it either.

I am Not You

When I was younger it was important for me to say that I am not you because I wanted to prove I was my own man. I don’t have to do that now. I am you in so many ways. You have a million good qualities and I am still trying to become as good a father, but let’s not lie to anyone.

You can tell me that I have weight to drop and I will say you are right. So what. I don’t have nearly as much as you do and I am 26 years younger. I exercise more than you ever have and I don’t give up on this.

But you can do this too.

You can turn this around. You don’t have to give into the stress this way. I write. I work out on the heavy bag. I lift weights. I walk/run on the treadmill and I play basketball twice a week.

My two biggest challenges are my diet and my age. I am not old, but I can’t pretend that I am 25 anymore. So I adapt. I adjust and I overcome. There has to be more than force of will.

But the thing is that even though I know you have to make these changes- if you don’t and the worst happens I will feel guilty. I will feel responsible. I will wonder if I could have done anything different.

I won’t say these things to you because I won’t add that to your list of things to worry about. This is where I’ll let it out because I can’t carry it.

It is not hard to understand your concerns or why you feel as you do. I get it. I understand. It makes sense to me. All I ask is that you fight this battle in a different way. Don’t punish yourself this way because that is how I see it. Your are punishing yourself.

You know you don’t have to worry about me because I always land on my feet. And you know that I’ll always help mom and my sisters- not even a question. So let go a little bit.

Just start exercising again and I promise things will look different than they do now.

This was part of the just write project.Just write

Pools of Blood

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I was there.

I saw what happened.

You might not believe it but that is probably because you don’t want to believe it. Our bodies aren’t supposed to look like that. We don’t bend like that, at least not those of us that are still living.

And the blood, oh my lord, the blood. There were so many puddles of it splattered around the room. I couldn’t decide what was worse the footprints that led away from that indescribable scene or the pool of red that had collected in that one place.

It was like a train wreck or a car accident. I wanted to look away but I couldn’t. Couldn’t stop staring at those things that used to be people.

Couldn’t stop wondering what happened and how. Did it hurt? Did they cry out in pain and or shock? Were they aware of what was happening?

Somewhere someone was crying or maybe sobbing was more like it. I can’t tell you why I wasn’t or how I managed not to throw up. I guess that I was numb and or in shock. At least I hope that is why I felt so much and so little.

They say that when you reach this point it is time to get out. They say that when you feel nothing your best bet is to find someone to talk to but I don’t have that. Truth is neither do they.

That is because we gave away our right to make decisions like that. That is because when we signed up we said we would do whatever was asked of us until such time as we were discharged.

Discharged. Every time I hear that word I laugh. It is such a plain and sterile word that says absolutely nothing and everything.

It is the perfect word for how they view us. We aren’t people to them. We aren’t humans that have blood, sweat and tears. We are just mechanical creatures that offer a bit more than the science fiction robots that use artificial intelligence.

Trust me, I know things. I know tales that I’ll never tell and stories that I’ll never share.

I want to. I really do. If I could get them out I might be able to sleep again but I can’t quite bring myself to walk down those gray halls of memory. I can’t go there in darkness or daylight. It is too much.

Except when I sleep.

Sleep always takes me back to that place and I see the things that I can’t stand to see. I remember what I want to forget. I stand in the places that I never want to see again. And I scream.

Or at least that is what they tell me.

I scream in my sleep.

No one wants to be near me then because they say what comes out of me doesn’t sound quite right. That is their way of trying to make me feel better but I read between the lines.

No one really wants to be around me in general because I am not quite right. Oh I can fool you for a while. I can make you think I am just like everyone else but sooner or later you’ll begin to see or sense things aren’t quite what you thought.

The other docs gave me some pills to help me sleep and said that they wouldn’t let me dream. They don’t work. I still see them. I still hear them.

Alcohol doesn’t work either. Doesn’t matter how much I drink or what ‘cuz there is never silence.

Sometimes I think about my last normal day and wonder if I can ever find a way to go back. I picture it in my mind. I see this enormous canyon stretching out in front of me.

There is no bridge or way to cross it. Too far to jump and impossible to fly to. But somehow I still see everything that happens over there. It is all sunshine and roses. People laughing, children playing- just happy times.

That might be the worst part of it for me. I can see it. I can hear it. I can remember it.

But I can’t get to it.

It all goes back to the beginning.

I was there.

I saw what happened.