I finally published my first book on Amazon. It's the one I wrote back in March, but I've gone over it many times the past few days and made some edits so that it is a finer piece of writing. It's amazing all of the typos and unclear sentences you don't catch the first 30 times you read it. Waiting half a year and going back to it was a good idea. I've added some more sentences, eliminated some, and gotten rid of a few pictures. After all of that, I stand by the story, whatever its place in literary history.
If you want to read the complete updated version, it will cost you one pyramid. I mean, one dollar.
If you don't have an e-book reader, you can download the PC version of Kindle reader for free.
I must warn you though, they have a long way to go with formatting options. The conversion to Kindle or iPad or whatever it is always screws up the format and it doesn't come out as smooth as it should. Paragraphs appear to be tabbed according to some invisible process I can't understand, no matter how consistent I make it on my Word document. At least the chapters are correctly separated this time around, and the overall product is what I want it to be, even if the visual aesthetic presentation leaves much to be desired. All the more reason for it to become a real book that can be read by turning pages. But that will require an agent and publishing company and all of that, which I can pursue soon, but not right now.
Even so, this is a huge monkey off my back, just knowing that at least every word in the story is what I want it to be, regardless of the shortcomings of digital publishing technology. I still retain the rights to pursue publishing with a real company so that it can be found on a shelf the way the universe intended, via pieces of trees.
Now I can re-shift my focus to the longer novel/creative memoir I've begun, which has me very excited.
As far as material life is concerned at this point, I am living in West Oakland for the month of September. I've basically made up my mind to return to the East Coast this year. I would like to go at the end of this month, but I need to take the next week to devise a financial/occupational playbook and deliberate on what is feasible. I'm sure I can get a similar job in New York City, but I have to research more and find the possibilities before I simply pick up and leave a job in San Francisco that has been very good to me, and when considered alongside all other jobs I've had, has been very enjoyable and given me more authority and room for creativity than I've ever enjoyed before. That being said, I'm not working enough hours to get out of debt. More importantly, all of my loved one's and friends are back East. My recent two week dose of homelessness while working further emphasized the point that I have nowhere to run and very few people in California to turn to in an emergency. If it weren't for my obsession with writing, I would be very bored out here. You can only explore the neighborhood or drive somewhere scenic so many times before you feel like you're just being a tourist as opposed to making a home. It's not where you are that makes life enjoyable, but what you're doing and who you do it with.
I don't have any illusions that one move will solve all of the unsolved questions in my life, any more than the move out here did. I still have to write and meet humans and live my life on a daily basis. I don't regret anything about moving here, as I have accomplished much and realized I was meant to be out here as long as I have been. But I don't see a future here... you never know what the universe pitches to you. But I did steer the wheel all the way out here, and I can steer it back. Now that this book monkey is off my back, I can do some serious soul searching...
On the plus side, I can see these two enormous pyramid tops to the federal building from my current spot at 2337. My roommate has a beautiful greenhouse, and we've got a lot of room in the yard to relax. That is, behind the deadbolt gate that separates us from the street, where my roommate tells me there has been only one targeted killing with an automatic weapon in the two years he's lived here. I don't know the going rate for that in Oakland, so I guess that's okay. Besides that, I have the most comfortable and largest bed I've slept in since high school.
Today I walked around Lake Merritt, with sunlight sparkling on the water the whole time. Oakland sure is beautiful. It would be hard to leave the scenery. California is clean. New York City is filled with trash and smells bad. But there are so many people there, and so many publishing houses too. If I were in tech or on a spiritual journey forty-five years ago, this would be the place to be. But after a year of residence, I'm almost convinced that it isn't for me. Besides, New York City isn't my only long term option in the East. The Northeast is much greener than California, which, for all its beauty, has too many long stretches of empty brown on the landscape. Even when it's not green, New York is at least covered in red, yellow or white.
I was at a small gathering on Labor Day, and I had the fortune of talking to a writing/literature professor who generalized the East/West innovative divide as such: "People out West are doing lots of new things that people back East are afraid to attempt. But overall, people back East tend to do things really well, whereas people out West, as a whole, tend to kind of wander in their projects. But when people back East do something new and do it really well, it's enormous." Speaking of which, I've felt for a very long time that I'm supposed to write 345 in New York.
Wherever I may be, I believe in the universal connected poetry. That's why I am publishing this story to illustrate my view. It's just like those two pyramids I can see from my window when I wake up in the morning and when I go to sleep at night. They appear to be separate entities, but there is a bridge beneath that connects the two. If the buildings were people towering above the street, the bridge would connect them right where their hearts beat.
D. L. Ashliman
© 1997-2009
"What sort of people live in the next town?" asked the stranger.
"What were the people like where you've come from?" replied the farmer, answering the question with another question.
"They were a bad lot. Troublemakers all, and lazy too. The most selfish people in the world, and not a one of them to be trusted. I'm happy to be leaving the scoundrels."
"Is that so?" replied the old farmer. "Well, I'm afraid that you'll find the same sort in the next town."
Disappointed, the traveler trudged on his way, and the farmer returned to his work.
Some time later another stranger, coming from the same direction, hailed the farmer, and they stopped to talk. "What sort of people live in the next town?" he asked.
"What were the people like where you've come from?" replied the farmer once again.
"They were the best people in the world. Hard working, honest, and friendly. I'm sorry to be leaving them."
"Fear not," said the farmer. "You'll find the same sort in the next town."
If you want to read the complete updated version, it will cost you one pyramid. I mean, one dollar.
If you don't have an e-book reader, you can download the PC version of Kindle reader for free.
I must warn you though, they have a long way to go with formatting options. The conversion to Kindle or iPad or whatever it is always screws up the format and it doesn't come out as smooth as it should. Paragraphs appear to be tabbed according to some invisible process I can't understand, no matter how consistent I make it on my Word document. At least the chapters are correctly separated this time around, and the overall product is what I want it to be, even if the visual aesthetic presentation leaves much to be desired. All the more reason for it to become a real book that can be read by turning pages. But that will require an agent and publishing company and all of that, which I can pursue soon, but not right now.
Even so, this is a huge monkey off my back, just knowing that at least every word in the story is what I want it to be, regardless of the shortcomings of digital publishing technology. I still retain the rights to pursue publishing with a real company so that it can be found on a shelf the way the universe intended, via pieces of trees.
Now I can re-shift my focus to the longer novel/creative memoir I've begun, which has me very excited.
As far as material life is concerned at this point, I am living in West Oakland for the month of September. I've basically made up my mind to return to the East Coast this year. I would like to go at the end of this month, but I need to take the next week to devise a financial/occupational playbook and deliberate on what is feasible. I'm sure I can get a similar job in New York City, but I have to research more and find the possibilities before I simply pick up and leave a job in San Francisco that has been very good to me, and when considered alongside all other jobs I've had, has been very enjoyable and given me more authority and room for creativity than I've ever enjoyed before. That being said, I'm not working enough hours to get out of debt. More importantly, all of my loved one's and friends are back East. My recent two week dose of homelessness while working further emphasized the point that I have nowhere to run and very few people in California to turn to in an emergency. If it weren't for my obsession with writing, I would be very bored out here. You can only explore the neighborhood or drive somewhere scenic so many times before you feel like you're just being a tourist as opposed to making a home. It's not where you are that makes life enjoyable, but what you're doing and who you do it with.
I don't have any illusions that one move will solve all of the unsolved questions in my life, any more than the move out here did. I still have to write and meet humans and live my life on a daily basis. I don't regret anything about moving here, as I have accomplished much and realized I was meant to be out here as long as I have been. But I don't see a future here... you never know what the universe pitches to you. But I did steer the wheel all the way out here, and I can steer it back. Now that this book monkey is off my back, I can do some serious soul searching...
On the plus side, I can see these two enormous pyramid tops to the federal building from my current spot at 2337. My roommate has a beautiful greenhouse, and we've got a lot of room in the yard to relax. That is, behind the deadbolt gate that separates us from the street, where my roommate tells me there has been only one targeted killing with an automatic weapon in the two years he's lived here. I don't know the going rate for that in Oakland, so I guess that's okay. Besides that, I have the most comfortable and largest bed I've slept in since high school.
Today I walked around Lake Merritt, with sunlight sparkling on the water the whole time. Oakland sure is beautiful. It would be hard to leave the scenery. California is clean. New York City is filled with trash and smells bad. But there are so many people there, and so many publishing houses too. If I were in tech or on a spiritual journey forty-five years ago, this would be the place to be. But after a year of residence, I'm almost convinced that it isn't for me. Besides, New York City isn't my only long term option in the East. The Northeast is much greener than California, which, for all its beauty, has too many long stretches of empty brown on the landscape. Even when it's not green, New York is at least covered in red, yellow or white.
I was at a small gathering on Labor Day, and I had the fortune of talking to a writing/literature professor who generalized the East/West innovative divide as such: "People out West are doing lots of new things that people back East are afraid to attempt. But overall, people back East tend to do things really well, whereas people out West, as a whole, tend to kind of wander in their projects. But when people back East do something new and do it really well, it's enormous." Speaking of which, I've felt for a very long time that I'm supposed to write 345 in New York.
Wherever I may be, I believe in the universal connected poetry. That's why I am publishing this story to illustrate my view. It's just like those two pyramids I can see from my window when I wake up in the morning and when I go to sleep at night. They appear to be separate entities, but there is a bridge beneath that connects the two. If the buildings were people towering above the street, the bridge would connect them right where their hearts beat.
Strangely enough, I came across this old folk tale while reading a totally different article someone had posted online earlier. I'd heard it before, but it seems very relevant today.
Folktales for Travelers
Edited byD. L. Ashliman
© 1997-2009
The Two Travelers and the Farmer
A traveler came upon an old farmer hoeing in his field beside the road. Eager to rest his feet, the wanderer hailed the countryman, who seemed happy enough to straighten his back and talk for a moment.
"What sort of people live in the next town?" asked the stranger.
"What were the people like where you've come from?" replied the farmer, answering the question with another question.
"They were a bad lot. Troublemakers all, and lazy too. The most selfish people in the world, and not a one of them to be trusted. I'm happy to be leaving the scoundrels."
"Is that so?" replied the old farmer. "Well, I'm afraid that you'll find the same sort in the next town."
Disappointed, the traveler trudged on his way, and the farmer returned to his work.
Some time later another stranger, coming from the same direction, hailed the farmer, and they stopped to talk. "What sort of people live in the next town?" he asked.
"What were the people like where you've come from?" replied the farmer once again.
"They were the best people in the world. Hard working, honest, and friendly. I'm sorry to be leaving them."
"Fear not," said the farmer. "You'll find the same sort in the next town."
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