That Shell Is Heavy, Break Out! Be Bold!

I was attending a Literary Lunch in London with my friend, Jim. He is a short story writer in his spare time and he is considering self-publishing a collection of his stories. I am a full-time writer in my retirement.

There must have been at least a hundred people milling around talking and checking out the books for sale.

We sat down at a table with four other people. After the introductions, I immediately told them I was a writer. All of them asked me about my writing and my books. Once they got me started talking about my passion they couldn’t stop me.

But, Jim just listened and kept quiet. The same happened at the lunch table!

Afterwards, Jim and I went to a pub for a drink.

“Jim, why didn’t you talk about your short stories and your writing?”

“I guess I’m not as bold as you are, Dave,” he mumbled.

“Jim, you have to break out and be yourself instead of being someone you are not.”

“How do I do that?”

“By talking about your passion, writing. Otherwise, your lack of boldness will cause the world to pass you by. Remember, boldness atrophies from lack of use.”

“You seem okay talking about your writing,” said Jim, glumly.

I smiled.

“Of course I am. I’m so wrapped up in my writing that I forget to be afraid of strangers and their judgments!”

Jim was silent for a minute while he contemplated his glass of beer.

“I fear people judging me.”

“You lack boldness because you fear being perceived as a failure. But, the paradox is your lack of boldness is failure!”

Jim was taken aback by that statement.

“I get so nervous when I’m mingling with strangers,” said Jim, wringing his hands.

“The trick is to use your nervousness to your advantage.”

“How do I do that?”

“Take a deep breath and think about your writing and how much you want the public to read it. That should motivate you to start talking. When you act with boldness life will be more exciting and meaningful.”

“Bartender, two more beers here!”

“Now, lets talk a little about our passion, yours and mine, and how it inspires me but so far hasn’t motivated you enough to breakout.”

“Do you recall the conversation at our table?”

Jim nodded.

“I said, “I’m a writer in my retirement.”

“What do you write?”

“Short stories, articles and novels and I have a blog.”

“I then handed out my business cards. I told them about my books and how I come up with ideas. The questions kept coming and I kept talking about my passion.”

“You sure looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

“Jim, you should have jumped in and told them about your short stories. But you kept your light under a bushel. Do not conceal your talents and abilities!”

“I don’t like criticism,” said Jim, sadly.

“You’ll always get criticism when you put your writing out there in the public arena. Most of it will be constructive and positive.”

“I’ll have to psyche myself out.”

“Someone once said and I remember it every time I don’t speak up when I wanted to. The quote is: “Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.”

“I see what you mean.”

“Jim, our passions are powerful motivators. They are a state of being. With passion we can accomplish boldness in life.”

“I think I’ve got it! I’m going to put myself out there.”

“Great! Putting yourself out there creates a sense of energy, accountability and support for you. It cements your dreams to be more possible.”

Jim was smiling now.

“Remember:

BE BOLD AND MIGHTY FORCES WITHIN YOU WILL COME TO YOUR AID!”

Self-Publishing Is Great!

I  HAVE  TWO  EBOOKS  AND  ONE  PAPERBACK  FOR  SALE  ON  AMAZON.

I  AM  WORKING  ON  MY  THIRD  NOVEL  AT  PRESENT.

WRITING  IS  A  SATISFYING  CREATIVE  HOBBY  OF  MINE.

NOW,  ANYBODY  CAN  PUBLISH  THEIR  WRITING IN  THE  SELF-PUBLISHING  WORLD.

NO  AGENTS  OR  PUBLISHERS  TO  VET  YOU!

HOLDING  A  BOOK  IN  YOUR  HANDS  THAT  HAS  YOUR  NAME  ON  THE  COVER  OR  LOOKING  AT  YOUR  TITLE  LISTED  ONLINE,  IS  A  WONDERFUL  FEELING.

AND  IT’S  GREAT  TO  EVEN  SELL  SOME  BOOKS  AND  GET  READ!

WHEN  YOU  WRITE  A  BOOK,  YOU  GIVE  IT  YOUR  BEST  SHOT  SO  YOUR  NOVEL  HAS  THE  BEST  CHANCE  OF  FLOATING  IN  THOSE  SHARK-INFESTED  WATERS!

SO,  IF  YOU  WANT A GOOD EXCITING  READ,  BUY:

“WEB  OF  GUILT,  A  CHICAGO  STORY”,  AN  EBOOK.

OR  “24  TRAUMATIC  HOURS,  TWICE!”  AN  EBOOK  AND  IN  PAPERBACK.

 

“I Get So Many Premonitions!”

I was sitting at the bar in my favorite watering hole, wondering what I could write about next. This wasn’t unusual because I am a writer in my retirement years.

Just then a nervous chap jumped up on the stool next to me.

“That looks good,” he said, looking at my drink, “What is it?”

“It’s a gin and tonic with ice and lemon.”

“Bartender, I’ll have one of those gin and tonics.”

He smiled at me and I noticed a facial twitch near the corner of his mouth.

“My name is Jonah, what’s yours?”

“Dave,” I said reluctantly.

“I’m very nervous today, Dave.”

My stool mate, Jonah, started to shake like he had Parkinson’s.

“What’s the problem, Jonah?”

“I’ve had another premonition. I think I’ve got a sixth sense. It’s scary.”

I smiled and ordered another gin and tonic.

“Psychic abilities are not recognized by the scientific community.”

“But Dave, there is so much evidence and support for ESP, even celebrities have premonitions. I get many of them.”

“Jonah, remember the old joke: one person says, “The food in this restaurant is not good.” And the other person says, “I know, and they don’t give you much on your plate either!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Jonah quizzically.

“What the joke tells you is: people tend to think that a large quantity of something can compensate for the lack of quality. What was your recent premonition?”

“Oh, you mean because ESP is in the news so much, there’s got to be something to it.”

“That’s right.”

“My premonition was that I dreamt I would meet an old friend I haven’t seen for years and low and behold, I ran into them in a restaurant. They were at the next table!”

“That’s a sort of coincidence, isn’t it? It’s a coincidence between your dream and an event in the outside world.”

“I still think I have a sixth sense. And anyway, there is so many ESP stories reported in the media, it has to be true. ESP is a fact of life!”

My friend was getting excited now.

“Yes, I will agree that the media reports a lot of strange goings on, and that reinforces your belief.”

“There’s something inside of me that wants to believe in the unknown and the supernatural. Something is willing me to believe,” said Jonah, twitching more than ever.

“Jonah, I know it’s comforting to suggest a belief in, lets say, an afterlife. This can be a very seduction thought.”

“Oh, I had a premonition about that too. I think there is an afterlife!” Jonah interrupted.

“Of course you want to believe, because it opens up the possibility for some part of you to survive death.”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be wonderful, to survive death?”

Jonah’s eyes were gleaming.

“A lot of people would like a ticket to immortality if only there was evidence to back it up, but there isn’t any.”

Jonah looked demoralized now.

“When you say that ESP or any transcendental things don’t exist, you’re taking something away from me that I need,” said Jonah, shouting now.

“Relax Jonah, it’s human nature to want to believe in the unknown and the supernatural, but you’ll save yourself a lot of grief if you face up to the fact that science does not back it up.”

“I’m sorry Dave, I have to believe, even if it just ain’t so! I can’t stop these premonitions.”

Jonah got up to leave:

“I will probably be miserable and depressed until my 50th birthday.”

“Who told you that?”

“A fortune teller I know.”

“Will things improve then?”

“No, she said, “I’ll just get used to it by then!”

I never saw Jonah again!

Chicago Doppelgänger

“Chicago is, and always has been, a grim, violent city, a tough city of many tongues and curiously Chicago is proud of this description.”

This was the blurb on my guidebook to Chicago Crime.

I was on holiday, revisiting my hometown of Chicago. I was passing Holy Name Cathedral, which was on my list of crime sights. I walked up to the cornerstone of the church and touched the bullet hole from the North side gangster’s assassination in 1926. Hymie Weiss to be specific.

Before I walked away, another fella followed me and touched the bullet hole and smiled wickedly. He was a heavy-set chap with a round face, heavy eyebrows, dark eyes and thick lips. There was a slight mark on his left cheek. He was wearing a black suit with white tie and two-toned shoes.

When he was finished stroking the bullet hole he approached me and said:

“That’s where O’Banion’s old flower shop was, right across the street,” he pointed his chubby finger.

I backed away from him, wondering why this stranger was talking to me.

He continued:

“Weiss and his side kick drove to his office above the flower shop. They parked the car and walked past the church. Then Tommy gun fire came from the third floor window of that nearby building. The spray of bullets tore away portions of the church’s cornerstone. As you can see the hole remains today.”

He walked back and touched the bullet hole again and said:

“Pedestrians scattered screaming as the shots broke the silence. Weiss took ten bullets and died at a nearby hospital. His side kick died instantly.”

The stranger then walked away laughing, and seemed to disappear into the distance.

I stood frozen to the spot for a minute. I wondered was this Edward G. Robinson look-a-like really the ghost of the leader of the “Chicago Outfit”, Al Capone?

Did I have a hallucination because of all the crime stories in my head?

My guidebook stated that the police chief announced after the Weiss shooting:

“If people have to be killed, it’s good that the gangsters are killing themselves. It saves trouble for the police!”

I walked away wondering:

DO DEAD MEN TELL STORIES?