I recently shared the opening to the novel I’m currently working on, A Magic Life.

I planned to start the novel next year, but it became all I was thinking about — so I started it this month. A few chapters in, something happened: I jumped from past tense to present tense.

I’ve only written one thing in present tense in my entire life (well, only one work of fiction; in my day job as a tech writer, almost everything is present tense). My favorite novel (affiliate link) is written in present tense. I’ve liked most novels I’ve read in present tense. So now I’m finally giving it a go.

Since people liked the first bit I shared, here’s a little more…in present tense:

Another Snippet of A Magic Life

She lives in a world of sound and color, lulled to sleep by the growling of tigers and the trumpeting of elephants. In the morning, the squawks of large birds pull her from dreams of faraway places. By breakfast, the calls of roustabouts and singers practicing become background noise that would seem louder than thunder if everything suddenly stopped and gave way to silence. Wherever she turns, a kaleidoscope: the tent, yellow and red, taking over a field of grass as though it were spilled from a bucket. The peeling paint from the train cars gathering on the ground like brittle flakes of colorful snow. Costumes sparkle, the world blurs before her—she will never know what it is to be bored.

It doesn’t stop with just sound and sight—all of June’s senses join the dance. The stench of dung and damp straw bales is oddly soothing, something always there at the bottom of  it all reminding her she lives in a world of extremes. Not many children her age know the scent of pancake makeup and spirit gum. The feel of summer grass beneath her feet as dancers chase fireflies with her in the gloaming will never get old. In contrast to the soft grass and billowing fabrics all around is cold steel: tent poles, cages, and heavy tools. She’s long learned that the rough wood sides of the train car she calls home leave behind splinters if she tries tracing the garish images painted on the outer walls. Finally, there are flavors: cotton candy melting on her tongue, stuffed cabbage and soups cooked by the Hungarians from the horse show, the ever-present taste of sawdust at the back of her throat.

If she lives to be 100, her mind crammed full of a lifetime of thoughts and memories waiting to be forgotten, these days will be the last to go.

Cross posted from The Juggling Writer.

About a month ago, I posted about working on a rewrite of something while starting a new book I didn’t plan to start until next year. (Sometimes the urge for something new hits and you just have to run with it.)

While I wanted to get another ebook out there before the year’s end, the new thing (called A Magic Life), has taken up most of my writing time.

I think the closest I’ve ever come to sharing my writing on The Juggling Writer is linking to the first nine chapters of my last novel, or mentioning the occasional short story.

I have a pile of things I want to blog about, but the new book has my attention. If I’m a bit quiet the rest of the year, you now know why…

* * *

1934

June Mangione was born shortly after her mother was cut in half. Her first trick was an escape: slipping free from the soft grasp of her mother’s womb like handcuffs, untangling herself from umbilical chains—writhing and contorting as she made her way through the birth canal as though she were shedding a straight jacket—she kicked and fought until being delivered two months early into the hands of a waiting clown. Her arrival was a surprising appearance in a world where most things disappeared.

“That don’t look right,” the clown said.

June’s mother tried sitting up on the hay bales covered by two horse blankets emblazoned with BARNES BROS. CIRCUS serving as a delivery bed. “What’s wrong?”

“She ain’t much bigger than a yam, Angie.”

“She? Is she breathing?”

The clown put his ear to June’s face. “Shit!” He rolled June over, cradling her in his large hands, the umbilical cord dangling between his fat fingers. He worked his pinky into June’s mouth, checking for blockage.

June’s mother got her first look. “She’s blue!”

“I’m trying, Angie!” The clown rocked June back and forth in his hands, but she still wasn’t breathing. “Where’s the damn doctor?!”

Angie sat up and grabbed her leg. “Ow!”

“What’s wrong?” the clown said.

“Leg cramp. Happened in the ring.” She reached out for June.

Moments before June’s arrival, her mother climbed into an illusion cabinet and was sawed in half by her husband before a crowd gathered beneath a circus tent on a hot summer day. The initial tinges of birth came shortly before the show, small contractions that let Angie know the baby was coming sooner than planned, but it was a performer’s job to go on no matter what. She had hid June well. She was still able to wear costumes without the crowd noticing from a distance that she carried with her more than just a smile and moves to redirect their attention, but it was clear to those in the know that a backup assistant would soon be needed. Angie could only dance, gesture, and contort into illusion cabinets so long before the weight of her husband’s regret grew too big inside her to remain concealed.

The cramps came as June’s father slid two blades on either side of the cut he’d just made with a large saw and separated each half of the box to show the audience that he had just cut his wife in half before their eyes. June’s mother felt the warm rush of amniotic fluid between her legs as the two pieces of the cabinet were rejoined and the blades removed. When the cabinet was opened and Angie’s husband offered his hand to help her out, she sat up in the cabinet and waved to the audience, smiling through the pain. It was enough proof  that she’d survived, and they burst into applause. Beneath the clapping, Angie said, “The baby’s coming.” She was wheeled away and taken back stage.

“She’s bleeding!” one of the aerialists said. She pointed to the mess spilling from between Angie’s legs.

“Angie, we need to take care of you,” the clown said.

“No!”

“We need to cut the cord.”

“Not yet,” Angie said. She didn’t care that she was bleeding. “Let me hold her.”

“She’s still not breathing, Angie.”

“I know.”

“Angie, listen to Hank,” the aerialist said. “We need to stop the bleeding.”

“Give me my daughter.”

Hank the clown handed June to her mother. Angie lied back, cradling June to her chest. She cooed in a reassuring tone as she gently patted and rubbed June’s back. “Come on, honey. Breathe.”

Nothing.

Angie’s trembling hands traced the contours of June’s back. “Breathe.”

Nothing.

“Angie?” Hank said. “Let us help you.”

“We need to help her,” Angie said.

Hank looked at the ground. “There’s nothing more we can do.”

Angie shook her head and pulled June closer. She kissed the top of June’s head and whispered something to her; then she closed her eyes, exhaled one last time, and loosened her hold on her daughter. Moments later, June’s first breath—a cry that could be heard all the way out to the audience—let the world know that a magic life had just begun.

With cooler weather in the mornings, I’ve been trying to get out to juggle.

Here’s a video I made a couple weeks ago — I hope you enjoy it.

It’s Been Awhile

I almost forgot how to log in to my main site. It’s been so long since I’ve been here. I always update The Juggling Writer, but I’ve let my personal page gather dust.

I’ve been letting more personality spill over on The Juggling Writer, but I still miss something even more personal/thoughtful, like I used to do with my LiveJournal account. My goal is to start doing more with this site.

What I’ve Been Up To

I’m starting a new book. I meant to start it next year, but it’s one of those things you go with when it hits. I’m shopping around my recent book, hoping to find representation.

Other than that, just working and having fun.

With weather cool enough for juggling, having fun’s an easy thing to do.

This is from an entry I recently wrote on The Juggling Writer.

I recently did one little thing that increased traffic from LinkedIn to my websites almost three fold: I customized my link descriptions.

Before and After

My link descriptions used to read “Personal Website” and “Blog” — the standard LinkedIn defaults (along with “Company Website”).

Also, I never used the third slot LinkedIn allows for links to user websites.

Instead of “Personal Website” and “Blog,” now it looks like this:

The Importance of LinkedIn

Since I started freelancing, LinkedIn has become more important than ever to me. By customizing links (and using the third slot LinkedIn offers for websites), more people are coming to my sites through LinkedIn and seeing that I can produce regular Web content.

How To

This is how I customized my website links:

1. While logged into LinkedIn, select Profile > Edit Profile

2.Under Websites, click Edit.

3. Change the websites dropdown from the default settings (“Personal Website,” “Company Website,” “Blog”) to Other.

3. In the center column, enter what you’d like viewers to see for your LinkedIn website links.

4. In the right column, enter the site URLs.

5. Click the Save Changes button at the bottom of the page.

Use All Three

Even if you only have one or two websites, use all three fields available to you.

Link to an about page, or another page you’d like people to see. (I have a link to the main Juggling Writer page and a link to my About page to fill all three fields.)

The slots are there — why not use them?

There’s Still More You Have To Do

Simply changing the look of your website links on Linkedin won’t drive traffic to your website — you have to be active on LinkedIn.

If I only wrote fiction, I wouldn’t go to this effort, but since I pay the bills writing Web content and as a technical writer and editor, LinkedIn is where I’ve been finding work.

In my case, I answer questions on LinkedIn, post useful information instead of just collecting contacts, and reply to people there.

I didn’t change any of my LinkedIn habits before making these simple changes to my website links; once the changes were made, though, I saw traffic to my websites increase.

If you’re active on LinkedIn, hopefully this will work for you, too.

(And if you’re on LinkedIn and want to add me as a connection, feel free.)

The Hell Comes With Wood Paneled Doors podcast is live!

Hell Comes with Wood Paneled Doors is the first novel I ever wrote. It’s a humorous coming-of-age story about a family traveling cross country in a possessed station wagon.

In episode 1:

When Michael O’Brien’s father, James, buys a new car just in time for the family vacation, he signs away more than his old ’74 Gremlin as a trade in.

I hope you’ll come along on this 21-week ride. Think of it as summer vacation dragged out through the cold months coming up.

If you like the Hell Comes With Wood Paneled Doors podcast, I hope you’ll tell your friends about it.

I’ve bumped into quite a few down people lately.

When we chat about it, they feel bad for venting because — with the exception of one month — I’ve been unemployed since December, 2009…

They know I’m uninsured and essentially pay the equivalent of another rent for medication each month…

They know I have a pituitary tumor that leaves me feeling dizzy and cruddy…

Some of the people I’ve chatted with feel like they have no reason to be down, but it’s not a contest.

If they hurt, they hurt…

*          *          *

When I look at the last year of my life, maybe I should be down.

I’ve watched the emergency fund disappear and I don’t know when I’ll find my next job.

My wife isn’t working, either — we’re a zero-income household. (I’m sure we’re not alone.)

When I look at things, though, all I see is a good year.

Here’s why:

• I see more friends than usual, and I’ve made new friends.
• I attended two conferences I scheduled while employed.
• I go for walks whenever I want.
• I swim.
• I juggle.
• I write.
• I edit.
• I write some more.
• I’m about to start podcasting.
• I’m back to pitching articles.
• I spend a lot of time with my wife, which has been the best part of this past year.

I have less security than I’ve had in years, but I’m happier than I’ve ever been.

I wish I could help the people I know who are down. I’m sure I’d be very down if I wasn’t doing things I love in between job hunting and taking care of responsibilities. The best I can offer to anybody who’s down is to not just do something you love, but do it consistently!

Doing something you love on a regular basis is the best way I know to avoid the blues.

I can look at my feet and feel sorry for myself, or I can look up knowing I’ve been having the best year of my life because I’m working on things I love, even though they aren’t yet making any money.

I’ve wanted to podcast my first novel for a couple years. I’ve wanted to do a bi-weekly podcast for The Juggling Writer since I started the blog almost a year ago.

My first novel, called Hell Comes with Wood Paneled Doors, is a humorous coming-of-age story about a family traveling cross country in a possessed station wagon. Check out the podcast here.

I’m still knocking around ideas for the The Juggling Writer podcast, but it’s something I’d really like to do.

I just found myself unemployed [again] after working for a month following a 7-month bout with unemployment.

Hopefully this time around with no job won’t last more than a week or two, but while I’m looking for work, I may as well put the time to good use and start figuring out how to get the best sound for podcasts.

This weekend is the Writers’ League of Texas Agents Conference.

If you’re interested in what I’m up to, I plan to update my Twitter feed as much as possible.

If you’re interested in all the goings on at the conference, check out the #wltcon hashtag.

If you’re attending the conference and see me, please say hi–I’m friendly and probably more shy than you!

I hope people coming in from cooler parts of the country stay cool in the Texas heat. I grew up in the Chicago area; after 25+ years in Texas, I’m just beginning to get used to the heat! (Austin runs about 5 degrees cooler than Dallas/Ft. Worth, where I live, so this is like a cold front for me.)

I hope everybody attending the conference this weekend has a great time…and great luck!

It seems that the stories I’ve loaded, as well as all links to my other pages on this main page aren’t working.

I didn’t do anything different–it just started all of a sudden out of nowhere.

I’ll troubleshoot in the morning…right now, it’s best to get some sleep.

Sorry to anybody looking for recently posted stories or other pages.

Worst case: I’ll rebuild the site tomorrow.

“Obscurity is a far greater threat to authors and creative artists than piracy.”
- Tim O’Reilly

One of my goals for 2010 is to get more of my writing out there.

I’m not as interested in getting my short fiction into literary journals as I am in publishing more non-fiction online, in newspapers, and in magazines this year.

I’ve been paid much more for non-fiction than I have for fiction.

I write fiction because I love telling stories.

I write non-fiction because I like sharing information and it pays much better than short fiction.

With few exceptions, short fiction doesn’t pay well, and even if published in literary or genre magazines, the readership tends to be other writers, and the circulation of the publications tends to be small.

If I’m looking at a small audience and little to no pay, I may as well do it myself and hope that my Web site and blog can get more traffic than some of the smaller literary magazines. I’ve received more attention from editors an agents with my non-fiction credits than I have my fiction credits, so I don’t feel I need a list of published credits in literary magazines.

I’ve decided to start putting short fiction on my Web site in 2010.

In today’s The Juggling Writer entry, I discuss a writing prompt that always worked well for me and two friends. In the entry, I linked to a short story I wrote about 5 years ago called “Fly Me to the Moon.”

“Fly Me to the Moon,” a story about a homeless man who is convinced he can communicate with the ghosts he believes to live on the moon, came close to being published by two magazines publishing fiction…two magazines that went under at the time the story was being considered (and, in one case, rewritten).

If you’re interested in reading “Fly Me to the Moon,” it’s right here in several formats.