Dreamscapes -- Hindering or Following?

We all have recurring dreams--periodic images form our sleep that our mind may employ to help resolve tough or emotional situations in our lives. Rest assured I won’t blog about running down the middle of the highway in skivvies. I shudder just thinking about that. :-)

In my recurring dream, I’m back in college during finals and I’m facing a math test I need to pass in order to graduate. The only problem is I haven’t attended a single class all semester. From there the dream takes on two distinct flavors. I’m either sitting in the classroom staring at the test, knowing I’m going to fail, or I’m running across campus, totally lost and unable to find the classroom.  I know, I’m a sick puppy, huh?

I’m not a trained psychologist, but in my life, in my personal circumstances, the meaning is clear. I’ve dealt with insecurities and fear of failure my entire life. The insecurities recently mounted with the publication of my mid-grade fantasy novel, Whispers from Forbidden Earth, now available in eBook on Amazon (YEA!!!). Thoughts of “what am I doing here” and “I don’t belong” kept swirling around in my mind.

BUT! But, but, but . . .  CNN had a recent slideshow/article that offered me such a feeling of hope: 

18 stars just as insecure as we are.  

I was intrigued and encouraged reading quotes like –

“Even though I had sold 70 million records, there was this feeling like, I'm not good at this.” -- Jennifer Lopez

"I get insecure about everything. I'm still bewildered when people know my name or my face. I can't figure out what they would possibly want to talk to me for." --Anna Kendrick

“I had an existential crisis at the Oscars, sitting next to Sean Penn and Meryl Streep and being like, 'What am I doing here? I don't belong here,'" --Amy Adams

Kind of silly, but what a relief. I’m not the only one! I’m not alone! Despite their insecurities, these stars reached the top of their profession. They followed their dream despite their anxieties. For me, Whispers from Forbidden Earth is finally out. I authored a novel, something many dream of but never accomplish. Then I found a publisher who believed in my story enough to send it out for the world to see. I did it and I’m moving forward. Now let’s see what the future holds.

Maybe I do belong after all. 

Here's the link to my book. Let me know what you think --Mark

  Whispers from Forbidden Earth 

Shared History--In Fantasy and the Real World

As an author, it is so fascinating to see a developing story lead me in directions I never intended. This is especially true with fantasy. Not only do the characters tell me what they should be doing and correct me when I do something stupid, but I see an entire world develop right in front of my eyes. I see rich vistas unfold before me—landscapes and villages and races. It is such a joy to behold.

With Whispers from Forbidden Earth (soon to be released by Helping Hands Press), there are two vastly different worlds: Earth and Eversong. One is familiar to the reader, Earth, but terrifying and strange to the protagonist, the young elf Strum stranded there. The other world, Eversong, is fantastical place to the reader, with its ancient races of trolls and pixies, elves, and gnomes, its lavender trees, its dragons and magi. But it’s Strum’s world, a world he fights to return to.

The worlds are vastly different but there’s a shared history hinted at within the story, a shared history more fully revealed in the sequel. That’s exciting to me as the author and totally unexpected. It is so exciting to have the story reveal itself to me, to share stories it wants me to know.That shared history caused me to start thinking recently about my own history. 

I’m a proud 2^nd generation Italian born in America, both my mother’s and father’s family coming to this country in the early 1900s. To me, it’s so important to keep the old traditions alive, to follow the old recipes that my mother uses and her mother before her.

It’s that identity, tied to the old world, that I want to keep alive here, not only for me, but for my children and the generations to come.  I love the Feast of the Seven Fishes celebrated Christmas Eve. I love Soppressata and Capicola, Prosciutto and Fontinella cheese.  Here’s a recipe for a northern Italian dish called Bagna Cauda (translated: Hot Bath). We make it on special occasions, and anyone who loves dipping Italian bread into oil and garlic, will LOVE this. I guarantee it . . . or I’ll send my cousin Guido to your house to educate you on the finer points of Italian cuisine. :-)

Bagna Cauda

Cover bottom of pan or skillet with olive oil

6 large garlic cloves, chopped

Simmer garlic in oil until brown

25 oz sardines (in olive oil)

18 oz anchovies (in olive oil)

(We follow the rough ratio of 1 oz anchovy to 2 oz sardines)

1 stick unsalted butter

I prefer using Roland's sardines and anchovies

This sauce is served in a pot for everyone to dip vegetables into. Serve it with chunks of crusty bread and your favorite  raw vegetables.

Read More http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Bagna-Cauda-2827#ixzz2DTRrAA4e

Whistling in the Fog

The release date of my mid-grade novel, Whispers from Forbidden Earth, is fast approaching. WOOT! The journey has been VERY long and now that the culmination is approaching, how do I feel? Ecstatic? Nervous?

Try numb.

As a professing Christian, I look at many aspects of life through the lens of my faith, a lens that is a bit foggy at times. Here’s what I mean. First, I believe everyone is born with talents and gifts to use in life. Clear-cut. Second, I believe God guides our steps. That’s where the fog roles in. 

I am thankful to the folks at Helping Hands Press for seeing the potential in my story and agreeing to work with me. But, this is not the way I envisioned it. I’m sure most first-time authors dream of landing an agent and signing a six-figure contract with a major imprint for the next blockbuster novel. I did.

Facing the daunting, mind-numbing, maddening subjective world of publishing, and after receiving 14 “Dear author, sorry your work doesn’t meet our needs. Best of luck.” rejection letters from agents, I decided to submit to HHP after the success of others in my critique group. I know 14 rejections barely scratch the surface. But, with agents rejecting 99.5% of everything they see, and hearing stories of first-time authors being rejected 30, 50, 100 times, I wasn’t willing to spend a year or so playing the game. A part of me feels at peace going with a small press, but another part wonders what could have been. I made the decision, though. For better or for worse, I made the decision, and I have to trust the path before me is the correct one.

A year ago this week, I embarked on a vacation of a lifetime. I, along with two close friends, participated in a seven-day rafting trip through the Grand Canyon with Western River Expeditions. OK, what does this have to do with writing? Be patient. :-)   It was the most unbelievable experience. For seven days, I witnessed the power of the Colorado River. I saw a glorious ecosystem unimaginable from the small glimpses most visitors get from the South or North Rim.

Now to tie the threads together. Rafting the Grand Canyon was my decision. People have died rafting there. Many people. One young woman drowned just a couple of weeks after my trip. The risks never entered my mind. This was a trip I’d wanted to take for so long, nothing would stop me. Right before we shoved off on the river, our head guide gave one final warning to the sixteen guests on the raft: If anyone has second thoughts about the trip, get off NOW. Once we start, there’s no way out or back for seven days.

I faced the unknown on that trip and had a blast doing it. I trusted our guides. I trusted their skill and experience. I trusted them with my life. I was nearly tossed from the raft on Lava Falls rapid, but man, what a ride. Enjoy the pics!

Narcissism or Marketing?

I HATE drawing attention to myself. But with the publication date of my midgrade fantasy novel, Whispers from Forbidden Earth, drawing closer, here I am blogging. I’m also tweeting and (gasp) actually have more than two followers. I’m on Google+, created my author’s page on FB and Goodreads, and I’m on Linkedin. I guess Pinterest is next. I’m told that this is all a part of marketing my book and, by extension, myself as an author. Truth be told, I’m very uncomfortable doing it.    

Blogging doesn't come naturally. I’m happiest taking long walks with my wife and dog through the woods, or kayaking the Conemaugh River or Crooked Creek, or backpacking through the backcountry with close friends. By day, I’m a software engineer, not on glitzy websites, but on boring back-office processing at a bank, handling millions of account records each night. I still program in COBOL for crying out loud! For anyone under 50, you’ll find a description of COBOL online near instructions on how to construct a mnemonic memory circuit using stone knives and bearskins. [maybe I’m out of my Vulcan mind! :-) ]

Pushing my name and picture and book out to the web doesn’t feel right to me. At times, I feel like I’m stroking my own ego, screaming LOOK AT ME with flaming neon arrows. Many who grew up in the social network revolution probably don’t understand this. In my heart, I’m a private person. No one has to know what store I’m walking into at 2:00 PM or what I’m having for lunch.  

Before I created my blog, I thought no one would care one whit what I had to say. Surprisingly, I’ve had nearly 600 page views between April 29, 2013 and July 31, 2013. I guess some out there find my posts entertaining (I hope so) . . . or maybe you’re all tuning in just to see what the crazy bald guy from southwestern PA is ranting about now.

I guess I’ll have to keep up with the marketing, even as I struggle with the narcissistic aspects of it. Thanks for stopping by!  Live long and prosper.              

Latest Interview with the folks at Helping Hands Press

I really am uncomfortable with drawing attention to myself. But if you'd like to listen in, here's a link to my Saturday July 27 interview with Helping Hands Press.

Whispers from Forbidden Earth

Legacy in a Small Package

My definition of the word “legacy” drastically changed on July 20, 2013 with the marriage of my eldest son Christopher to the lovely Sarah Hyde. As guests entered into the reception hall, they saw a table with Chris and Sarah’s engagement picture on display. Behind that picture stood 10 wedding pictures, Kathy and I, Sarah’s parents, then grandparents, and great-grandparents. All told, the pictures spanned 4 generation.

I had never heard of that before at a wedding and seeing the pictures had a profound impact on me that weekend.  I realized that the pictures represented a legacy of love and commitment spanning over 80 years. Was everyone perfect? Of course not, we all have our faults. But one thing I know is that every couple stuck it out through the hard times and good, through the fights, and all the issues that come packaged with married life.

I was a teenager when the first Rocky movie came out (stay with me here . . .). I watched Sylvester Stallone and saw all the praise he received for his role as Rocky. I decided then that I wanted to make a name for myself like Stallone. I didn’t want to die in obscurity, without the world knowing my name. I wanted to leave my mark. Perhaps that fear drove me to start writing. I don’t know.

Fast-forward 40 years and there I stood at my son’s wedding, looking at 4 generations of pictures. That is the legacy I’m a part of, a legacy of love and commitment I’m so proud of. Even now, I’m sure no one remembers the short stories I’ve published. And who knows how many people will read my novel when it comes out in the next few weeks. No one, perhaps?

All that external stuff doesn’t matter to me as much after this past weekend. I’ve seen the pictures and I know my legacy lives on. I’ve left my little mark in the world and I’m so proud.

Thank you, Chris, Sarah, Jason, and, Kathy for opening my eyes.           

Here is my legacy:

 

Reluctant new member of the bent-neck club

When I started thinking about this post, I intended to title it, “Look at all the bent necks”.  Then a couple of weeks ago I RELUCTANTLY upgraded my trusty 3G cell phone for a smartphone. Thus, I was dragged, kicking and screaming, into the bent-neck club, and I hope I won’t need a chiropractor as a result while I try to figure out how the #&^!@#$ thing works. Perhaps you can tell where this post is going . . .

I work in downtown Pittsburgh, in the USX tower. Each day I walk several blocks to and from my van, and ride the elevators to my office all the way on the 43rd floor. I see thin white wires dangling from so many people’s ears nowadays. In well over 80% of the cases, necks of the aforementioned people are bent, eyes fixed on snazzy devices in their hands, thumbs a blur of frantic movement. Head-mounted radar must come as standard equipment with a smartphone upgrade. It’s a wonder no one trips or crashes into someone else suffering from the same bent-neck syndrome. I’m still waiting for a call to have my radar installed.

Call me old-fashioned. Okay, I am old-fashioned. Being 54 years-old allows for some cynicism. Stepping into an elevator or through a door, what happened to the eye contact I remember, the polite nod, perhaps a smile and even a “hi” or “good morning”?  Now, ears are plugged, necks are bent, heads and eyes down, and thumbs moving.

Okay, I realize Pittsburgh is a small city. Maybe the politeness I remember never existed in places like New York or Philadelphia. But it existed here at one time. I remember it. Not everyone acknowledged me, but some would nod or smile. Some would say ‘hi”. I remember that.     

Social media has allowed us to stay connected with our closest friends and know their business on a daily . . . umm . . . hourly basis. What about those outside our circles, though, the people we pass every day or share an elevator with for a couple of minutes? I remember a time when there was eye contact. Maybe there was a nod or a smile, too. Sometime we even chatted for a bit. I remember . . .