Testimony of an Old Author

No, "Blind Fool Running" isn't about me or even by me. It's an illuminating and captivating story about a retired man that I may very well be like, one day soon, written by my literary alter ego, who is fictitious as well.

In other words, Blind Fool Running by Jonco Bugos is not an autobiographical novella and it was never intended to be any kind of autobiography. But it's as close to one as I'll ever write.

Blind Fool Running by Jonco Bugos at Barnes & Noble.com

Author's Note: No, "Blind Fool Running" by Jonco Bugos has nothing to do with the Jonco Bugos blog. Jonco Bugos (my alter ego) is the pen name I use for writing literary fiction and for writing the Jonco Bugos blog and the Think-A-Holic Lounge blog.

Eenie, Meenie, Miney... Old

Nothing in life wields more power than making a choice. That's the most persistent theme in my novels. But I'm not here to hawk my Science Fiction for Thinkers collection. People know where they are. Either they want to buy them and read them, or not. It's no skin off my butt.

I'd rather share with you a notion I have that among the biggest signs of aging are the choices we make, choices we probably never made before, based on a new set of priorities. A pre-bucket list of choices, if you will, that's as individual as each of us but as common as death and taxes.

That's right. There are certain signs of aging that are common to most of us once we pass through that high-mileage gate at age fifty-five. By age sixty-five, our choices reflect not only the aging process on full throttle, they show those around us that we haven't any more time for nonsense. Here are a few examples of choices we men make that show our age:

1. Selecting slip-on footwear over lace-up footwear. Who has the time to strap themselves into their shoes anymore? Slippers, loafers and pull-on boots are the marks of a man who has no time to pay for the same real estate for the rest of his life. Those precious minutes spent lacing up your shoes every time could be better spent doing other things.

Like having a third cup of coffee or watching back-to-back episodes of The Andy Griffith Show instead of fetching the mail. The mail can wait. Nobody's going to steal your mail. Who in the hell wants your mail? It's mostly medical bills and utility bills anyway. With the time you save by "not doing your laces" (and not fetching your mail) you can stop and smell the roses, maybe for the first time in your entire life. Even if you don't have any roses.

2. Re-discovering Velcro. Maybe they don't make sneakers with Velcro closures anymore but that's what yard sales are for. The time you save by Velcro-ing your sneaks instead of lacing them up can add years onto your life by the time you die. Let's just hope they're not "scooter" years.

3. Not shaving every day. Why shave if you're not leaving the house that day? You can use the time saved by not shaving as your own personal fifteen minutes of fame. The trick is to not waste those fifteen minutes of "fame" in the can with The National Geographics.

4. You stop ogling women. Even if you never were an ogler, you suddenly feel the urge to appreciate attractive women from the neck up. Why? Because you want to be a "good guy" on your way out, not a dirty old man. Why? Because you're not so sure anymore that there isn't a hell, so you're going to be on the safe side, just in case. Then you smile and struggle to keep your gaze above their necks, preferably engaging their eyes with yours.

Now, that takes not only courage and discipline but self-confidence as well, qualities you desperately want to possess while you're still above ground. When the "babes" pass by, you try not to get caught while turning around to watch them leave. If they turn back around and catch you enjoying their spectacular departure, you just pretend they're ogling you. At your age, flirting with a ridiculous notion is better than heaping more guilt upon your already guilty conscience.

5. Getting stingy about heat. Heat is consumed fuel and that's money that you once had that you let slip through your fingers. You know you've got to keep warm so the money spent on heat is your biggest priority. Then you only use the gas or electric oven on cold days as extra heat to help out the furnace. You microwave your meals, whenever possible, instead of using the conventional oven or stove top all the time, to save on electricity or propane or natural gas. Whenever you do use the conventional oven, you sit in the kitchen by the stove and sip lemonade. It might not be Florida but it's certainly cheaper.

6. You reevaluate red meat, nicotine, alcohol, sugar, fat and salt. You realize that, not only are you all alone, you're not getting any younger. So, instead of that canned soup and salad for supper you feast on a Hungry Man Mexican Meal and have a couple beers with it instead of water. For dessert you have two mugs of coffee (you get reckless and put your cups away for good) and an eclair from the local bakery.

Then you light up that cigar your cousin gave you three years ago and which you tossed in the freezer for this very day. Then you snooze in front of the tube instead of rinsing the few dishes that need rinsing. When you wake up you have another beer with some beef jerky and cheese. Then you put in your time with the National Geographics.

7. Damn the torpedoes. One day you put all the dishes in the attic and stock your kitchen cupboards with styrofoam cups, plates and bowls. In a pinch, paper ones will do. While you're at it, you start buying plastic knives, forks and spoons to replace all that silverware that needs washing. With the time you save by hardly washing any dishes at all, you can increase your nap time to three naps a day. Maybe even four.

8. Full speed ahead. You forget that you're not only over-the-hill but as graceful as a pregnant elephant. In your forgetfulness, you decide to jog to the mailbox one day for the mail that no one in their right mind would want. Your feet have no idea what to do at this speed so you do a header, falling down in front of the neighbors and their dog. You decide to stay there until they get bored and stop staring, pointing and laughing. Then you carefully get up and go get a case of beer and a bottle of whiskey instead of getting the mail. The mail, like everything else in life, can damn well wait.

Editor's Note October 28, 2013: All written blog posts by Michael Casher are Copyright © Michael Casher. All rights reserved. Most of the textual blog post content by Michael Casher will eventually be available in printed book form and Kindle ebooks, whether or not Michael Casher is alive at the time. That's our plan. Thank you.

The Chase

No, I was never really an archery hunter.
Just dreaming about it was bad enough. 

TC

Crop Cylinders

Hey, it's no hoax.

Three Simple Rules for Being an Author

I've never offered any advice to aspiring writers mainly because no one has ever asked me for any advice about writing. But if they had, there are only about three things I'd be willing to tell them. The things I wouldn't be willing to tell other writers (or even the public, for that matter) is where I get my ideas from, how I develop my characters, how I choose my themes, what writers influenced me, etc., etc.

Those are just about the stupidest questions anyone could ever ask a writer and, because they're such stupid questions, they're so damn popular. Questions like these are why I don't socialize on writer networks. Giving up your trade secrets to others so they can steal them and use them to compete with you, or to discredit you in some way, is even more stupid a thing than being asked to.

I never read enough science fiction for any science fiction writer to interest me, anyway. I don't write traditional genre sci-fi and I never ran across any writer that made me want to emulate his or her work. The only sci-fi I ever really liked were the goofy but highly creative B-movies from the 1950s. Since the 1990s, horror and fantasy have been sold to a stupid, gullible public as science fiction and no one seemed to care. I've only read a handful of science fiction novels in my entire life and I thought they were all pretty bad. Boring, preposterous to the point of being laughable and tedious to read. Besides, I've always been a creative person and have never been much of a follower. Mimicking, copying and emulating are strange brews that have never been my cup of tea.

So, getting on to the three simple rules for being an author, my number one advice to aspiring authors is this:

"Don't feel obligated to help other people write a book."

That's their job. And they damn well know it.

The second thing I'd be willing to tell aspiring writers is even more important. I'd tell them to leave their families, friends, neighbors, townsfolk and local area because, of all the people and places in the world, your roots are where you stand the least chance of being recognized for your writing ability and literary achievements. That's right, leave your hometown and never move back, especially if you want, as Rodney Dangerfield put it, "a little respect". People who know you won't give you any respect for being an author because they can't see past the labels they gave you. Forget them like a bad memory and move on. The real world lies beyond your hometown city limits.

I'd tell people who want to be authors to stop looking over their shoulders for support and encouragement from their relatives, friends, neighbors and co-workers because, in most cases, those people would rather drop dead than make you feel good about yourself or what you've done with your life. The only person in the entire universe that you have to prove anything to is yourself. As a writer, you are the most important reason for writing. So, follow this simple rule of thumb and the rest of your writing career will fall into place.

"Leave home and don't look back."

And, if I was still giving out free advice to new writers and writer wannabes (and they were somehow still listening), my third piece of advice (and the most important rule of all) is also the simplest rule to follow. My third piece of advice about being a writer is this:

"Go fishing instead."

I've been saying that for years.

╥

I was there and now I'm here.

Aging science fiction authors like me really don't need nine blogs to write. Not if they still want to keep writing science fiction novels. But here I am with yet another blog. Now, before you start making little tsking sounds of disapproval, let me explain.

Yesterday, Windows Live alerted me to the fact that my blog A Portrait of the Author as an Old Man would have to be transferred to WordPress or else deleted and that time was running out. So, naturally, I let them transfer it to WordPress. Then I found out that about half the old posts made no sense because they mentioned Science Fiction for Thinkers...at Windows Live, my Windows Live Space, which was no longer available. The only thing left at Windows Live was my profile and two photo albums and they looked pathetic and exiled without a blog to anchor them. So, I deleted them. Now I have nothing at Windows Live except an account I can't get rid of.

Then I discovered that blogging at WordPress was far too difficult and confusing for an old fart like me. So I deleted this blog there and started it all over again from scratch at Blogger because I forgot to save the old postings in a word document on my computer. Then I discovered that I couldn't delete my unwanted WordPress account, either. Hmmm. There ought to be a law.

Later, people, when I have something interesting to write about.