Greetings, lovely human.
I have the most delectable earworm. It's Go Down, by AC/DC, from Let There Be Rock when Bon Scott was at the helm. It's a delicious little homage to oral secks. Though to be honest, it depends on your persuasion as to how you hear it.
Yes, the misspelling is intentional, designed to get around your prudish email filter.
It never fails to strike me about how precariously placed is art. Earlier this month (see the latest posts, below), I recorded a pep talk about artificial intelligence. I have had a series of coaching clients freaking out about it. Unnecessarily, in my view.
If you are a white-collar professional freaking out about so-called A.I., I'd like you to ponder why you've bought into the hysteria. Make no mistake, it IS hysteria: Created online, amplified by algorithms, and at the perfect time. As the financial system shudders and groans, it's easier to deflect attention.
'Well, of course I lost my job to A.I.' is more palatable than, 'my elected politicians don't understand economics and think printing money is the answer'.
This month, I have unearthed a book I wrote when I was 27. It's titled Afflicted. Apt, really. I was afflicted at the time and on the brink of seeing it.
The book had great feedback from two respected editors.
I got great feedback from an author with whom I am friends, too. His only comment was that one of the characters disappeared.
At the time, I was so precious that I just got disheartened. I didn't know how to fix it. I just put it away.
And I never wrote fiction again.
This book is on my desk right now. Once a major client job is finished and delivered, my next task is to rewrite Afflicted from scratch. It's not an easy task. Even reading it gives me the heebie jeebies. Since digging it out, I have become re-afflicted with a debilitating shoulder pain that is an emotional pain I lived with for a long time when I was young. The significance of it is not lost on me, and rewriting it is necessary for the processing of it.
It's along the same lines as sorting out all of my books, all my files, all my publishing.
Up until now it's been helter-skelter, scattered like dandelion seeds blown to the wind.
I have three desktop computers in my studio, two or three laptops, an array of hard disk drives. I am scrambling to re-discover the original files of several books I published. My intention is to reissue them through new channels, in new formats. To bring strength and coherence to my publishing life.
Only then will I feel empowered enough to keep forging forwards.
In the meantime, I'm taking on new coaching clients and they never fail to amaze me.
One is challenged by collaborations that terrify her inner artist.
One is powering from step to step, confident enough to take massive action every month. (But it's taken her nearly 6 years with me to get to this point!)
One is learning that he can be fully himself and still make money writing about the things that light him up.
And each one of them is an absolute delight. Candid. Vulnerable. Willing to take action. So if you (or someone you know) has a lifetime artist desire that's gotten lost or squashed or changed somewhere along the line, and you want to bring it back to life, reply and let me know.
In the meantime, I am writing a new poetry collection; have a poetry collection under review by a potential new publisher; and am doing my damndest to be a rock in the river of a toddler's ocean of emotions.
By the next time I write to you, I'll have news one way or the other about at least one of the books on my desk.
Until then, may all your days sparkle.