Coffee Novelist

Morning Shakespeare via Ben Elton

Coffee Novelist

March 22, 2021

See the source image — **WHY AM I UP THIS EARLY?**

Have you noticed, as I have, that there has been a good deal of content focusing on the benefits of getting up early? There are podcasts, posts and articles everywhere extoling the benefits of getting up early. I came across podcast on Linked In called The Six Morning Habits of High Performers, by Pete Mockaitis. Not to brag or boast while I sip my coffee over my morning toast, but I’ve been doing my own, very similar morning regimen for several years now. I’m not talking about just getting ready for the day. I have been getting up early as a means of setting my mind and intentions in the direction I feel is best for me. I like to say the morning is the best time to do this because the rest of the world is not awake to distract me with their intentions for my mind.

My morning routine usually includes a few minutes reading a wisdom book, journaling, a few yoga asanas, then some time writing for the books or the blog. All this in done in and around several mugs of coffee. It’s duration is dependent on work start time and day of the week. For me, the morning thing people are preaching to the choir.

“You never get tired of feeling good” – me

My wisdom reading, my reading for my clear, respective and energized morning mind, most recently has been a Shakespeare sonnet. Even on weekends when I have more time, I read just one sonnet every morning. It is about all of that iambic pentameter I can take. But I found it to be as good a mind exercise as reading a bit of the Bagdavida, or page or two of Dear Theo, both of which I have recently used in my morning routine. Yet, I have never been called to read much Shakespeare and it isn’t something one normally does voluntarily. I am of the age that it is a recommended that I get a colonoscopy. I did that. Now comes reading Shakespeare. Both are highly recommended but do you really want to do either?

As I said, I never did. However, I finally had to see for myself what all the fuss was about. So, late last spring, I read the old paperback copy of Hamlet that had been around the house forever. Later that summer I read Oscar Wilde’s essay on Shakespeare’s sonnets. The lengthy Wilde essay was less a discussion of the sonnets themselves but more his learned opinion on whether the sonnets were written to a particular person, of which there is much academic debate, of a particular gender, of which, in those days, there were only two. Reading those led me to find old Riverside Shakespeare that had also seen sitting around the house forever.

For my current morning routine, I first read the original sonnet several times. Next I write a guess as to what it’s about in my journal. Then I read a modern English interpretation. The process is completed when I watch and listen to Patrick Stewart read that sonnet with my eyes going back to the original. It is a good way to create the open mind and intentional thought you want in your head to start they day. To me, that is the greatest benefit of my early morning routine.

As for Shakespeare the man

NoSweatShakespeare – Making Shakespeare Easy & Fun✔️

As for Shakespeare as a whole, I’m not saying there’s not wonderful language and imagery in Shakespeare. In fact, to even begin to get into all of it is simply too much for my mind on this particular morning. I know my limits, as demonstrated by my one sonnet a morning practice. I only have time, space and intent enough in this post to recommend coming at Shakespeare not when it is not forced on you. Sure, I did voluntarily read both Hamlet and Oscar Wilde’s essay on the Sonnets last summer but avoided Shakespeare during my years of formal education. However, for the purpose of this post I also recommend coming at Shakespeare via Ben Elton’s series on BritBox called Upstart Crow.

Ben Elton wrote or helped write some of my all time favorite British Comedies such as The Young Ones and Blackadder. Upstart Crow is indeed funny. The episode where Shakespeare attempts to explain the plot of Hamlet to the actors who laugh at each machination thinking the play is a comedy, was cathartic for me and perhaps for anyone who has been told how great a tragedy Hamlet is. And, it still may be a great stage play- I haven’t seen it. But when I was reading it, I kept thinking that Hamlet and his screwed up family would have made good guests on an episode of Jerry Springer. It was already clear that with them in charge that Denmark was never going to achieve superpower status in the coming centuries.

I think a secondary reason I enjoyed the show was that it often portrays William Shakespeare, as a man with a wife, kids, a commute to and from Stratford and day to day worries. One would have no trouble reading hundreds of academic volumes about written about Shakespeare’s life. But for me, Ben Elton’s presentation of Shakespeare as an ordinary guy made his works way more accessible, approachable and appealing. And more than all the academia, classes, and textbooks combined, persuaded me to finally open that 1926 page Riverside Shakespeare to read a sonnet every morning. Sure, Shakespeare may be the greatest writer in the English language but he still was just a guy in puffling pants trying to get through his day, starting with what must have been a hell of a morning routine all his own.

Terry Allen gets back to me on Back outta the World

Coffee Novelist

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March 19, 2021

REVISIONS OF ME

One thing writing can do is that it forces a writer reflect on who you are, were and with a bit of intention, design and align who you are going to become. Today, I received an email from Terry Allen saying that I could use his song title, Back outta the World as the title for my metaphysical road novel. Feel free to check out Terry Allen now or after finishing this post. For me, the email was the unofficial end to the writing of BotW. It was the light turning green telling me it was time to head off to editing, publication, and since this country demands validation through it, monetization, of the novel. In my thank you reply, I told Terry (God knows why I felt compelled to do this) that I felt a bit of “postpartum blues at finishing the novel” and that it “been with me such a long time.“

Point from the Village of Me (Ghost Ship Rodez) — **A Terry Allen work which is perfect for this post. Would you believe I had no idea it existed before I started the post?**

THE LAPTOP SCREEN AS A MIRROR

I first heard Terry Allen’s music in St. Louis on the weekend I attended the historic Davis Cup match between John McEnroe and Mats Wilander in 1982. That match was as engaging and tense a tennis match as one could hope to see. I remember being damp with sweat as I sat watching. In and around that weekend in St. Louis, after showering, I remembering hearing a Terry Allen’s song called “The Great Joe Bob Went Bad.” I have been a fan of music since, coming his art a bit later. I feel that in a metaphysical sense, that weekend is when I began writing Back outta the World.

Image result for john mcenroe 1982 davis cup — **Is this me?**

Writing this post now in central Indiana on a 12 degree day during a Pandemic, I am struggling a bit on where to go with it. Like the beat up yellow VW van in BotW, I could go anywhere. I could head off to the dreams I had of playing tennis professionally, to playing shortstop for the Reds, to becoming Ultraman. I am trying new SEO software on a new laptop, so I could look to Key phrases or even additional Key phrases for direction. Not really, no. Because if you’ve read these post you know that ain’t gonna happen. Keywords will not provide any help in finding out how the hell yours truly went front scribbling on a yellow pad in the back of a van in the 80’s to being a single father of four young adult children.

I think one way to do that, to take that journey, is to write about it, to take a look inside. And how did I come to that understanding? Partly or even mostly by writing, writing and rewriting BotW. Also by reading BotW over and over and letting it tell me things about myself. The book is a road trip where Jay’s (me) mind and body are on two separate trips and meet at the end. This is a realization I came to during the third rewrite, which itself come to be after a two decade hiatus in which I barely recalled BotW existed. Yes, the actual words have gone from the yellow pad to typed pages to laptop screen. Like the novel that is now BotW, I have undergone different versions of myself as well. And I am not still talking about SEO, word counts and punctuation. When I went to that Davis Cup match in 1982 I still had hopes of making a living playing tennis. But those tennis pro dreams were fading even then. That great match rekindled them for a short time. In the 30 years or so since that Davis Cup weekend when I was first introduced to Terry Allen’s’ music, life has given me the above mentioned four adult children and a hell of lot more in the bargain. At times, it looked as if life had given me more than I could handle. One way I began to believe I was able to live my life with my own intentions was by writing. And, thank the heavens above, I have discovered that it works and continues to work.

I really like this book

Image result for ultraman — **Or maybe this is me…**

I am aware now that I need to continue revise myself. These days I view the thirty year journey of rewriting BotW as a mental makeover. An ongoing practice of looking at me through the book. I like to say that novels are never really finished. If that is true then it must be true of it’s author as well. Today I find myself finally happy with the latest revision of both the book and of me. That may only last this one day. But, I’ll take it because it’s the book I’m reading right now.

“May I help who’s next?”

Terry Allen is definitely not me. Terry Allen / Artist / Songwriter

Do you listen to your writing?

Coffee Novelist

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March 16, 2021

“I will then let the first few versions of the novel tell me what it wants me to do from there.” -me

If you leave comments in comment boxes then read on. I recently left a few lines in the comment box of a writer’s post. See above. The post itself explored the author’s method and how she created her stories. I replied because I identified with her method of starting out using handwritten drafts. I ended up leaving a comment on my method of rewriting, revising and sharpening my works of fiction. I hoped my reply made sense. A week or so later, I am afraid it didn’t. So, I have an example of what I meant below. Not that anyone cares be me, but let me explain.

I wrote, or actually typed, the core of both passages over two decades ago. It was no until several year ago that I picked those pages up again and took up revising all of Back outta the World. Maybe distance and detachment are elements that help a writer to figure out their work. I sometimes think working to get something done by a certain time can be harmful to the creative process. Then again, I may be overcompensating by taking a two decade hiatus between rewrites. That being said, I was then able to see these two passages as companions, even though originally they were just episodes written based on the notes I took on an old legal pad. Why were they there? Was it actually random? The novel was always meant to be called Back outta the World. Did I subconsciously compare and contrast both type of balls to be like the world, like a globe, at the very least? I honestly do not know. What I do know is that I have attempted to do just that during this last pass on the manuscript as I saw the connection between the world in Back outta the World, the two types of balls (globes, worlds) and Jay’s choice to try to avoid both by hitting the road. That is what I mean by letting the novel tell me what to write. I left excerpts to help clarify. If you care to comment please do. But, I think subconsciously, I wrote this post mainly for me.

BotW Excerpt – The “coconut” shaped pool was filled only half way with murky water. The pool itself was not ready for swimming and the water was likely put there to test the pumps, drains and filters. Someone from the construction crew working on the place must have found a beach ball and thrown it on top of the water. The ball glided randomly and slowly across the water, eased along by whatever air movement was in the Sun Dome. The Dome itself was complete, sealing off the chilly Midwest evening. About a dozen tall palms trees installed and planted in pots were positioned around the pool. Set back a bit from the pool sat a small tropical themed bar. It had a green grass skirt draped around it, fake bamboo shelves backed it up, not yet filled by bottles. All the poolside tables had large umbrellas over them for protection from the sun or glare from the dome, or both. Other fixtures, chairs and still empty pool towel racks had the look of something meant to withstand the splash of water and beating of the sun. Everything was new. Near the main entrance, several large crates still sat unopened. The stairs leading the actual rooms overlooking the pool were roped off. Two large decorative fountains stood awaiting water to animate them. The Sun Dome was anticipating holding the future noises of kids splashing and running and parents telling them to stop.

Excerpt number 2 – A stew of events, some of his making, some not, had pushed him out of his world. Was that it? He didn’t recall signing on the dotted line. Was he running to or away from something? Too late now. Jay took off on this trip regardless, undercover now of the trees and night. He was the one who was wronged. He had to do what he did, simply had no choice. The past ran in his veins and thoughts now. A little ways back to the draft dodger who had surely slept in the lodge. They took him farther back to his childhood front yard and a game of war with his neighborhood friends. Was this where the trip really started? No longer are there the trees and this road out of the van’s windshield, but his front yard and youth. There he is, in the right, doing the right thing by yelling at his friend, Mike. Mike the strongest of his friends and the only one left in the game besides Jay. He had the ball and wouldn’t throw it. He held it there, across the imaginary line of separation between the opposing teams’ turf. Jay is yelling at him that the game cannot end like this. One of them has to be put out, to be hit by the ball. The ball was the world to them both there on the front lawn in a summer afternoon. Still Mike stood back against the fence smiling stupidly. Finally, in anger and rightness, he, Jay, walked up to the imaginary line and dared Mike to throw the kickball at him. Point blank. The rest of our friends watch. Now in my driving mind, I see the kickball smash my nose, snapping my neck back and blood splatter my face and white T-shirt. I see the kickball now, its odd deep purple color, rotating in slow motion like a spun globe, set in motion by its impact on my face, somehow landing in my arms. I catch it, winning the game. I clutch it in the basket of my thin brown arms, convinced that I was right.

“

May I help who’s next?”

Back to writing “Back outta the World”

Coffee Novelist

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March 12, 2021

Writing is mostly rewriting

As promised, I am attempting to keep this blog as current as possible on the progress I’m making on my second novel, the spiritual prequel to Tripio, called Back outta the World. The novel’s title is taken from the song by Terry Allen. No song lyrics actually appear in the novel however I feel they capture what I believe to be a similar spirit or energy found in the pages of BotW.

I posted this in early January, 2020. Since then I have learned two things. The first one is how to link a song into a post. More importantly, I also realized that I was not done writing Back Outta the World. I did not find an editor. In short I am back to Back outta the World again. Hey, don’t say your sorry because I have enjoyed this pass even more. Which means the rest of this post resonates even more.

A good thing it is also fun

There are passages in the Back outta the World that I enjoy tremendously. In reviewing, revising and enhancing those passages, I believe that I am making Back outta the World a better experience, a better product if you will, for all future readers.

For example, I must have been temporarily visited by genius when I revised the section where Jay and his friend Kyle visit a casino in the UP. Here, I compare the green velvet covering the poker and pool tables they are visiting that night to the green of the grass of the yards that Jay and Kyle played on as kids. Kyle is Jay’s security blanket. Jay is having doubts about the purpose of the current road trip and the future he sees beyond that. Kyle is not a wonderful person, however Jay finds comfort and reassurance in his presence. Unfortunately, Kyle’s presence doesn’t help in this part of the novel, as the old friends are about to get tossed out of the casino.

Poker Table - Texas Holdem Stock Footage Video (100% Royalty-free) 9983510 | Shutterstock

Back outta the World bit

One wordless form got up from the table. Jay no longer wanted a seat at this table. Jay and Kyle didn’t need plastic, clicking chips telling them how to have fun. Their secret, shared history was revealed to the other forms by way of their jokes and loud laughter. This was now their yard, their green playground. The players of the other game in their yard became less important. They had no idea how to play the new game in Jay and Kyle’s yard. They didn’t get the point. Now was a moment in the history of the two’s friendship and who cares if it were in front of a table or even an entire casino full of wordless strangers?

Kyle and Jay weren’t here to break any of their rules, just to play by their own, as far as Jay could reason. These forms were taking the plastic, clinking chips too seriously, or just doing what they were told by them. Either way, Jay and Kyle were laughing and playing a fun game. So, when two very large and very silent uniformed men arrived and stood between Jay and Kyle, they knew what to do. Their game was over. Time to go home for dinner. This time, Jay was a couple steps ahead of Kyle, as they turned away from the green table and left the other players to return to their own game.

**“There is a peasant in every novelist”- F. Scott Fitzgerald**

As I said, I now really like that bit in the book as revised time and time again. The problem is that, as of this morning, there is no way of knowing if I improved that passage in Back outta the World one little bit. The attainment of external validation for a novelist is a slow process, if it ever arrives at all. It is more a “feel” or a “sense” that you have made any given sentence or paragraph contain something worth reading. Luckily, I have two coffee makers, espresso machine and drip, to help get me through. As a result, after I finish this post and cup of coffee, I am going to spend an hour or so writing and re-writing Back outta the World.

I placed the quote above in this post because it applies directly to working on a novel. One has to work the soil everyday, as a peasant would. However, It doesn’t matter a hell of a lot what I think about what I did yesterday, or last year. If I don’t work the earth today, no one one eats tomorrow. A bit dramatic I know, but you get the point.

A destination employer

Coffee Novelist

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March 10, 2021

“Always perform your duty efficiently and without attachment to the results, because by doing work without attachment one attains the Supreme.” – Bhagavad Gita

It is a Monday morning. In the interest of full disclosure, I had scheduled this to be an off day so I have the day off from my job. Last week was a long week at work which is not news to anyone. Read on and I promise this post will get a bit more incisive. It had been since New Year’s Day that I had any extra time off. I don’t get sick. That blessing is even more appreciated in these times. I get up and go to work. It is what I do. It is what I did while helping to support four kids for over two decades. I did that before those days. That trend continued so far this year and I hadn’t needed a sick day. But I needed “a day.”

So Thursday when I received a text from my daughter saying she was coming home for the upcoming weekend, I was quite happy. She and I would now have be able to spend the weekend together without me going through the machinations ones goes through to get ready for the work week. One thing she and I did was explore the new and nearby Bottleworks district and go to a movie. Masks on the entire time, we saw ‘Nomandland”. I saw the film in many ways to be about work, working for a paycheck and what happens when the work you’ve known disappears for good.

Starting the work week

During Nomadland my mind went back to few minutes earlier that day when I was clearly not working. I was on the couch channel surfing and stopped at Remains of the Day. There was the lovely of Emma Thompson, a gifted thespian. Yet, I fancied her comedy talents from the series form way back called Alfresco. I stopped surfing just as Emma left the screen and waited for her to return. I have never read the book nor seen the entire movie so I had no idea when Emma would return to me. The next scenes involved an old servant at the estate where Emma worked who was close to getting sacked. Anthony Hopkins who was in charge of the estate, had reassigned the old servant to a different role and was explaining the specifics to him. The old servant had worked there 52 years. He got the purpose of the new tasks and before Anthony Hopkins had finished explaining everything. He then turned and pushed his cleaning cart off in the direction of the brass door handles he was tasked with shining. I sat up straight and thought, “Damn! That’s me.“

The remains of me

The physical act of pushing something to get to somewhere to do something closely resembles what I do for a living. It is not glamorous but it pays the bills. Like me, the old house servant went straight to work. Got to get to work. It is what he does. It is what I, and nearly all of us, do. Obviously, Remains was not written with me in mind. The scene itself may not be the guts of the film or book. This particular scene spoke to me. The movie was not made about me. But it and Nomadland, got me thinking about why I was working this morning, when I was not at work.

There are a lot of reasons and motivations why I work on the books and this blog morning after morning. I can’ deny that one powerful one is to create a revenue stream against the time when no else sees value in my work at work. I have experienced the work world as random, arbitrary, and unforgiving. This has not been the case everywhere but it has scarred me. I have been downsized, let go, laid off. Me, who gets up and goes to work because, like the old house servant, it is what I fucking do. So for some years now, I have decided to put my faith in myself and spend as much time as I can reasonably spend creating a revenue stream that only I can control. I can not downsize myself, I can’t eliminate myself from the org chart, I can’t find a younger me to replace myself. I can’t be remotely sure that any measurable amount of revenue will ever come from all this. However, I will gladly take that deal. Because you can bet your ass that sure as the next day dawns, and the one after that and all the ones I am around to experience, that I will, if I chose, go to work at it.

“May I help who’s next?”

Back to “Back outta the World”

Coffee Novelist

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March 9, 2021

As promised, I am attempting to keep this blog as current as possible on the progress I’m making on my second novel, the prequel to Tripio, Back outta the World. I am slogging through my fourth, I believe, rewrite. This will be the final time for me to work on it alone. Once this is done, I will find an editor and we will work together.

Disclaimer follows – Well, was I wrong. I posted this in early January, 2020. Since then I have learned two things. The first one is how to embed a song on a post. I may embed the song every time I post about BotW over the coming year. Then again, we both may bet sick of it. Let me know. The second thing learned since the original post is that I was not done with Back Outta the World. I did not find an editor. That, my friends, was partly the universe telling me that BotW was not done and partly just dumb luck. In short I am back to Back outta the World again. Hey, don’t say your sorry. I have enjoyed this pass even more. Which means the rest of this post resonates even more. Read on….End Disclaimer

In short, I love it. There are passages in the novel that I enjoy tremendously. In reviewing, revising and enhancing those passages, I believe that I am making Back outta the World a better experience, a better product if you will, for all future readers.

For example, I must have been temporarily visited by genius when I revised the section where Jay and his friend Kyle visit a casino in the UP. Here, I compare the green velvet covering the poker and pool tables they are visiting that night to the green of the grass of the yards that Jay and Kyle played on as kids. Kyle is Jay’s security blanket. Jay is riddled with doubts about the purpose of the current road trip and the future he sees beyond that. Even if Kyle is not a wonderful person, Jay finds comfort and reassurance in his presence. Kyle’s presence doesn’t help in this part of the novel though, as the old friends are about to get tossed out of the casino.

Botw Excerpt– This fake green table was just another yard to play on. Just like the pool table. Jay was free to play here too. His own game though, not controlled by the clicking chips. He had left his world and traveled good ways to meet up with his oldest friend and they were now together at a casino in the Upper Peninsula. Not that this casino even mattered. The forms had all of Jay’s chips but they had been here before him and would be here after Kyle and he left. Jay and Kyle had their friendship and the lasting historic strength that it gave them both. The dealing continued. Jay and Kyle made more jokes among themselves. One wordless form got up from the table. Jay no longer wanted a seat at this table. Jay and Kyle didn’t need plastic, clicking chips telling them how to have fun. Their secret, shared history was revealed to the other forms by way of their jokes and loud laughter. This was now their yard, their green playground. The players of the other game in their yard became less important. They had no idea how to play the new game in Jay and Kyle’s yard. They didn’t get the point. Now was a moment in the history of the two’s friendship and who cares if it were in front of a table or even an entire casino full of wordless strangers? Kyle and Jay weren’t here to break any of their rules, just to play by their own, as far as Jay could reason. These forms were taking the plastic, clinking chips too seriously, or just doing what they were told by them. Either way, Jay and Kyle were laughing and playing a fun game. So, when two very large and very silent uniformed men arrived and stood between Jay and Kyle, they knew what to do. Their game was over. Time to go home for dinner. This time, Jay was a couple steps ahead of Kyle, as they turned away from the green table and left the other players to return to their own game.

As I said, I now really like that bit in the book as revised. And even more a year on as revised again. The problem is that, as of this morning, there is no way of knowing if I improved that passage in Back outta the World one little bit. The attainment of external validation for a novelist is a slow process. A good thing I have two coffee makers to get me through. After I finish this post and cup of coffee, I am going to spend an hour or so working on the next part of Back outta the World. I placed the quote below in this post because I believe it applies directly to working on a novel. One has to work the soil everyday, as a peasant would. It doesn’t matter a hell of a lot what I think about what I did yesterday,or last year. If I don’t work the earth today, no one one eats tomorrow. A bit dramatic I know, but you get the point.

**“*There is a peasant in every novelist*“-Fitzgerald**

“May I help who’s next?”

Don’t write your novel, find it – A red apron recipe – practices to keep the mind in writing shape

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March 2, 2021

“I’m sittin’ in first class and they can all kiss my ass, ‘cuase I’m goin’ back baby, back outta world.”

In Tripio, the protagonist Jay is writing his first novel. It is a road book. One of Jay’s literary heroes in Tripio is Jack “That’s not writing, that’s typing” Kerouac. It is in character for Jay to have attempted his first novel based on the two month road trip he had taken as part of his aimless post college graduation life. Tripio starts with Jay nearing the end of writing the novel. He is not exactly struggling with the ending of it. After all, it is finite. The book will end with end of the journal he kept for its duration. Jay is confronted more by the fact that he is afraid he doesn’t even know what the book he has almost finished writing, has worked hard on, is even about.

In real life, that was also true. Today, I describe “Back Outta the World” as a road trip in which the main character’s mind and body are on two different trips and meet at the end. I only came to that conclusion as I reworked Back outta the World (BotW) prior to starting Tripio. I arrived at that conclusion approximately 20 years after I finished physically writing BotW. You will have to buy and read Tripio to find that section describing how I felt upon finishing BotW . I will tell you that it is one of the few parts of Tripio that remains word for word in the novel, as it was recorded in my journal on that day in my Chicago apartment over twenty years ago.

If I am promoting and publishing Tripio as a Starbucks novel, reflecting on it daily now as the story of my early adult life, then I am writing about my writing twice over. In other words there could be no Tripio without BotW. Yet, In Tripio, I was hesitant at first to even give Back outta the World a name. Early in the writing of Tripio, I referred to BotW as “my writing” or “the novel”. Then, as I began to feel confident and came to see possibility of completing, publishing and marketing of Tripio, I made it a point to name “the novel” embedded in Tripio. In fact, I had too. In order for Tripio to “work” (you be the judge), BotW had to be a powerful, named presence in Jay’s mind. It had to be identified so that it could carry it’s third of the book.

Speaking of Jay’s mind, I did find out what Back outta the World is about. It is not recorded in however, in Tripio. Or, as I like to put it, Back outta the World told me what it was about. It is in the above entry from my journal, or Sketchbook of the Mind, or Sotm, from 2016. I frantically recorded the moment on the page pictured above. Btw, my handwriting always looks like that, frantic or not. I remember standing over the entry and thinking that it was so incredibly obvious that when I was writing Botw that I was chasing my own “monkey mind”. That as a young man in those days I had no idea. I felt that events came at me. I felt I was watching things happen to me instead of making them happen myself. I did not know it consciously then, but it showed up in the pages of BotW. And, it sure did feel good to realize I could and did catch my monkey mind. As to the Red Apron recipe, I believe this moment help me understand to try not “write” your novel so much as “find” it. I hope for your sake it doesn’t take 20 years. Your interpretation of this recipe will take all shapes and forms for your work. But, believe me, it is always there. Write honestly with inward attention and intention and it, the novel, the meaning, is always there, waiting. To put it another way, don’t write “to” finish your novel ( they are never really finished anyway) or to sell it. Rather, write it and then let it do the work for you. It will take rewriting and rewriting and hopefully not two decades but what comes out may surprise you and will be well worth it.

As for the marketing the books as companions, that remains to be happen. Tripio has to find it’s market first. As I update this repost nine months later and two years after Tripio’s publication, Tripio has yet to do so. Either way, I will find a path to publishing BotW later next year. Botw helped Tripio come into existence in the first place, so it seems fitting the Tripio is out there trying to help BotW find its way into the world.

**Don’t try to write your novel, find your novel**

“May I help who’s next?”

Don’t write your novel, find it – A red apron recipe

Coffee Novelist

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March 2, 2021

**“I’m sittin’ in first class and they can all kiss my ass, ‘cuase I’m goin’ back baby, back outta the world.”**

In real life, that was also true. Today, I describe “Back Outta the World” as a road trip in which the main character’s mind and body are on two different trips and meet at the end. I only came to that conclusion as I reworked Back outta the World (BotW) prior to starting Tripio. I arrived at this conclusion approximately 20 years after I finished physically writing BotW. You will have to buy and read Tripio to find that section describing how I felt upon finishing BotW . I will tell you that it is one of the few parts of Tripio that remains word for word in the novel, as it was recorded in my journal on that day in my Chicago apartment over twenty years ago.

If I am promoting and publishing Tripio as a Starbucks novel, reflecting on it daily now as the story of my early adult life, then I am writing about my writing twice over. In other words there could be no Tripio without BotW. Yet, In Tripio, I was hesitant at first to even give Back outta the World a name. Early in the writing of Tripio, I referred to BotW as “my writing” or “the novel”. Then, as I began to feel confident and came to see possibility of completing, publishing and marketing of Tripio, I made it a point to name “the novel” embedded in Tripio. In fact, I had too. In order for Tripio to “work” (you be the judge), BotW had to be a powerful, named presence in Jay’s mind. It had to be identified so that it could carry it’s third of the book.

The Day I found my novel

Most importantly and to the point of this post, I did find out what Back outta the World is about. It is not recorded in however, in Tripio. It is in the above entry from my journal, or Sketchbook of the Mind, or Sotm, from 2016. I frantically recorded the moment on the page pictured above. I remember standing over the entry and thinking that it was so incredibly obvious that when I was writing Botw that I was chasing my own “monkey mind“. As a young man in those days that became Back outta the World, I had no idea. I felt that events came at me. I felt I was watching things happen to me instead of making them happen myself. I did not know it consciously then, but it showed up in the pages of BotW.

To conclude, it did feel good to realize I could and did find my monkey mind. As to the Red Apron recipe, I believe this moment helped me understand that it is best, for me for me at least, not to “write” your novel so much as “find” it. I hope for your sake it doesn’t take 20 years. Your interpretation of this recipe will take all shapes and forms for your work. But, believe me, it is always there. Write honestly with inward attention and intention and it, the novel, the meaning, is always there, waiting. I do think a lapse of time between rewrites helps. I am not recommending waiting two decades. A middle path will appear for you and your work. To put it another way, don’t write to finish your novel ( they are never really finished anyway) to sell it. Rather, write it and then let it do the work for you. It will take rewriting and rewriting and hopefully not two decades but what comes out may surprise you and will be well worth it.

“May I help who’s next?”

Can money buy happiness?-part 2

Coffee Novelist

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February 24, 2021

“Have you looked into getting it to a publisher?’

“Tripio. The book?’ I responded. Howard appeared to be not overly concerned with my book sales. ‘Oh, yea early on. But I found the process to be too much like looking for a job. Like sending out countless resumes…and crossing your fingers. I have had enough of that in my life.”

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I paused a second to consider that response. I did send some queries out to literary agents early on. I reasoned that someone who received my query would like have a cup of Starbucks on their desk, just returned from Starbucks, or had stock in the company. I told myself over and over that Starbucks still moves the meter. But the random nature and “pick- me, pick-me” element of it all brought back too many memories of lay offs, restructuring and downsizing. There were too many scars, too many similarities. Direct publishing put everything in my hands. I didn’t know what I was doing but it felt way, way better. I did not want to get into my financial status with Howard. Pay check to paycheck would sum it up. Year after year. Tripio was right though. I did find my calling in becoming a dad. A windowed one for eight years. Now, I was sitting across the table from a millionaire who was in the coffee business with me a long time ago. It struck me suddenly that I should have called him in 1994 when I was considering leaving Starbucks. I was Lead Clerk at the store at the Metra station. I had a headache for two weeks as I decided what to do. Sitting here now, as a man changed so much by what happened in the four years I worked for Howard Behar and Starbucks, I know if I called him, he would have listened to me. Maybe he would have given me more wisdom. I mean, he is asking about my life now and he has no reason to. It would have been so easy. Instead, as the silence between us grew, I asked a question anybody with a blog and who had ever been to a Starbucks could have asked,

“What do you drink when you come here?”

“A tall american with an extra shot. You?”

Why You Shouldn't Air Your Dirty Laundry on the Internet – Daily Plate of Crazy

‘Oh, I like to stay with a grande, or whatever they call it these days. Coffee of the day.” My mind was still too close to the money, the times of unemployment, my financial dirty laundry. If my old boss asked about it, I’d have to tell him. I didn’t want to, so I stayed with coffee. “Speaking of coffee…what did you used to say? We’re not in the coffee business-“

“We’re in the people business serving coffee, not the coffee business serving people.” Howard smiled as he finished. He seemed to enjoy taking that trip back to his Starbucks days. He glanced again to the street. This time he saw what he was looking for. ‘There’s my wife with the dogs. She doesn’t like to bring them around on her walks. Too many people ask about them. She wants to get her steps in.” It was friendly and matter of fact, but Howard had to go.

“Ok. I’ve got to get to work.” I said, knowing it was also matter of fact.

He and I stood up, both looking to make sure the table was clear of any debris. Had to be clear for the next customer.

“Well, thanks for your time. And thanks again for the blurb. I’m redoing the cover to highlight it.”

“Sure.”

“If I run across any alumni from Chicago I’ll let you know.” I said as a send off. I had only really looked for Kevin Knox and Howard Behar. I did not look for any of the people I worked the most with and based the characters on. Mark, Doug, Sarah. The list goes on. I have had the passing fancy of tracking down all 500 or so recipients of that first IPO in 1992. I would write a quick page or two about each. What become of them all? Who, like Howard was rich and who like Kevin Knox and I were not. I was not sure why I offered that to Howard. But he seemed to appreciate it and smiled at me, adding,

‘I’d like that. Good to talk with you. Best of luck on the book ” Howard waved to his wife across the street. He looked back to me, “And especially with the family, Jerry…. You sound happy.”

“May I help who’s next?”

A Tripio back in time with Howard Behar- Can money buy happiness??

Coffee Novelist

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February 24, 2021

“Have you looked into getting it to a publisher?’

“What do you drink when you come here?”

“A tall american with an extra shot. You?”

“Ok. I’ve got to get to work.” I said, knowing it was also matter of fact.

He and I stood up, both looking to make sure the table was clear of any debris. Had to be clear for the next customer.

“Well, thanks for your time. And thanks again for the blurb. I’m redoing the cover to highlight it.”

“Sure.”

“If I run across any alumni from Chicago I’ll let you know.” I said as a send off. I had only really looked for Kevin Knox and Howard Behar. I did not look for any of the people I worked the most with and based the characters on. Mark, Doug, Sarah. The list goes on. I have had the passing fancy of tracking down all 500 or so recipients of that first IPO in 1992. I would write a quick page or two about each. What become of them all? Who, like Howard was rich and who like Kevin Knox and I were not. I was not sure why I offered that to Howard. But he seemed to appreciate it and smiled at me adding,

‘I’d like that. Good to talk with you. Best of luck on the book ” Howard waved to his wife across the street. He looked back to me to add “And especially with the family, Jerry…. You sound happy.”

“May I help who’s next?”