Another New Start

          For the few of you who followed my blog in its initial form (the post grad thesis marketing), and remained with me during the second phase (the serious attempt at literature) I ask you once again to follow me here. First, a huge thank you to anyone who takes the time to visit my blog(s). Second, I have not abandoned the two previous blogs (though one physically-or metaphysically-took the place of the other), I've just shelved the stories. The first rests in completion but with a fear of seeing the light of day, the other is still pushing its way in and out of my life like...prepare yourself for a horrible analogy...like a bus going up University avenue every 3 minutes, except when I've been drinking and need a ride home. So I've admitted to myself that I don't (presently) need that stinkin' bus and this new blog is an attempt to return to my roots.
          Back in 2005 I was blessed with the opportunity to work with John Brantingham in one of his amazing Creative Writing Workshops at the illustrious Mt. SAC Community College (For those of you in the Southern California region who have not gone to college yet, consider going to Mt. SAC, and consider taking Professor Brantingham's classes...even if you've graduated from college, consider...well you see where I'm going with this...he's the man). The reason I say it was a blessing to be in this workshop is because I was not qualified for the course and Professor Nemeth (my remedial English instructor who singlehandedly awakened my passion for lit analysis) wrote me a letter of recommendation.
          In this class I wrote my first short story, a cheesy horror yarn about a vampire-ish biker who stalked people who 'sinned' and killed them in ways that looked incriminating...or made it look like suicide. What can I say, it was fun and I'd been reading a lot of Stephen King at the time. If I remember correctly (and i have the digital back-up to fact check) the story ended with the words "I know about her" scrawled in blood on the bedroom wall of the protagonist's father. PLOT TWIST-it wasn't his blood. Wow. Ladies, the author of that story is still single. Moving on.
          After a couple years of diving into and almost understanding the classics-I won't lie, Proust and Derrida still elude me-I've returned to the world of fantastic summer reading. I am currently 647 pages into Stephen King's It, and I couldn't be happier. I have trouble falling asleep when I read in bed. I see a clown with razor sharp teeth, and a spider and...well, this brings me to my blog.  This new project has been in my head for years. I've done plot development, written character sketches and planned out tons of dialogue. But something always kept me from beginning. To me this is a reconciliation of the writer I started out as and the person I've become.