Getting to Know Us.

 

jimmy and Mr. Kafka

 

jimmy, (James Lee) was my father’s, sister’s child. jimmy was born, July 14, 1954. He died, July 22, 1954. When I was born 3 years later, my aunt gave her blessing to my parents to name me, James Lee.

                               jimmy rockin' & rollin' with Lynyrd Skynyrd

I became aware of my special name years later, when I was about 12 years old. I was with my parents when they went to the cemetery to look after their parents’ grave sites. I must say, it was odd, eerie, and peculiar experience to see my name, his name on a tombstone. It was then that they told me about him.

Fast Forward

I don’t recall the exact date/ time when I had the ‘what the heck am I doing with my life moment,’ but when I did, I decided I needed to live not only for myself, but also for jimmy. He deserved the experience of life. So, together always, he lives through me – jimmy's second chance.     

I use the name, jimmy, because I prefer to think of him as my whimsical and spirited cousin who looks after me, and my Guardian Angel. (Yes, I talk to him a lot. I am not crazy, I’m old and extremely strange.)

Fast Forward – again

Before I jumped into the deep end of writing a novel, I practiced writing dialogue – mostly how I perceived a conversation with jimmy would go if he was here. After hundreds of written out conversations, I finally felt comfortable with the personality I had manufactured for jimmy, which instilled my confidence to create a persona and individuality for characters in a novel.

Fast Forward – one more time

Here’s a typical conversation between jimmy and I.

“Whatcha doing, Mister Kafka?”

“Hey, jimmy. I just finished scribbling down some informative and provocative stuff about us.”

“Why? No one will read it.”

“They might.”

“No, no they won’t”

“Yes they . . .”

“Nope!”

“But . . .”

“Trust me, Mister Kafka. They’ll read the first sentence then move on to the silly, animal video that their friend posted or some family vacation pictures.”

“Whatever. Want to go to lunch, jimmy?”

“Sure. I’m in the mood for a double cheese burger and some fries.”

“jimmy, you do realize eating that stuff is not good for you.”

“I don’t think it matters, Mr. Kafka.”

“Good point. I’ll have my usual, coffee and a cigarette.”

“Mr. Kafka, you do realize . . .”

“I know, jimmy. I know.”

“Can I drive this time, Mr. Kafka.”

“Stop talking and just get in the car.”

 

 

For jimmy – my best friend. 

 

j/k

 

A Belly Laugh

Laughter is the best medicine.

 

 

I dress for success.

                              

“Hey, Mr. Kafka.”

“What’s up, jimmy?”

“I don’t think people are laughing as much as they used to.”

“Why do you say that, jimmy?”

“Yesterday, I told a very funny story about a cow, but only half of the people laughed. The other half thought the story was offensive to cows.”

“Ah, I see where you’re going with this. Take a seat. I have a story to tell you that might help you understand.”

“Mr. Kafka, I’ve heard plenty of your stories, and I’ve never understood any of them.”

“Trust me, this one you’ll understand.”

“That’s what you always say, Mr. Kafka.”

“Hush up. Okay. When I was in the fourth grade, there was a bully that regularly picked on me. Well, one day I had enough of his antics and decided to trick him. It happened on the playground, during recess. He approached me like he always did, laughing and calling me vile names.”

“What names, Mr. Kafka?”

“Not important. He was much bigger than me, and that day he punched me in the arm so hard, I fell to the ground. But I didn’t cry. I looked at my arm – the punch made a big, nasty-looking bruise. Then, I started to laugh.”

“Laugh? Why did you laugh, Mr. Kafka?”

“jimmy, Stop asking questions and let me finish. The bully was baffled by my laughter and asked why I was laughing. I told him I was laughing because he was going to go to jail for murder. With a confused look upon his faced, he asked why. I told him I had a rare blood disorder and the bruise on my arm would cause a blood-clot, and that I would probably die very soon.”

“Well played, Mr. Kafka.”

“Thanks. So, I started acting like I was fading from this world, dramatically of course.”

“Of course, you did.”

“It worked, too. He started to cry, and screaming that he didn’t want to go to jail. All the other children started laughing at him. He fell to his knee’s and begged me not to die. I quickly stood up and kicked him squarely in the jaw. Knocked him out, too. The End.”

“That’s it? End of the story? I don’t understand the point you were trying make, like always.”

“I told you, jimmy, laughter is the best medicine.”

“Huh?”

“The medicine finally kicked in. Pun intended.”

“Congratulations, Mr. Kafka, you got me again with one of your stupid stories.”

“It’s not stupid. The moral of the story is; if you chose not to laugh when something is obviously funny, expect to get kicked in the jaw.”

“Mr. Kafka, I don’t know why I hang out with you.”

“I think you have to.”

“Yeah, well, I reckon you’re right about that one.”

 

Enjoy each day with laughter and you’ll never have a bad day.

 

-jk-

 

 

 

Wild, Wild Spider Web of Books

“Hey you! Are you a writer?”

 

“Yes, yes I am.”

 

“What type of books do you write . . . Adult, Adventure, Alternate History, Chapter Books, Chick Lit, Children, Comedy, Contemporary, Cookbooks, Cozy mystery, Crime, Cyberpunk, Detective, Diverse, Dystopian, Erotic Romance, Erotica, Fairy Tale, Family, Fantasy, Food, Friendship, Geeky, Ghost, Gothic, Graphic Novels, Heist, High Concept, High Stakes, Historical, Horror, Illustrator, Inspirational, Legal, LGBT, Literary, Magic, Magical Realism, Memoir, Military, Mystery, Myth, Noir, Nonfiction, Paranormal, Picture books, Regency, Retelling, Revolution, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Suspense, Sci-fi, Southern, Space Opera, Speculative Fiction, Sport, Steampunk, STEM, Superhero, Survival, Suspense, Thriller, Time Travel, True Crime, Upmarket, Urban, Urban Fantasy, Vampire, War, Western, Witch, Women, Women's fiction, YA, or bat-shit crazy stuff?  

 

Intimidating and Frightening, eh?  And people critique writers 

who use to many adverbs and adjectives.

 

                                                   Albert, that's bat-shit crazy

Simply saying you write horror is not enough anymore. You must say your book is horror with strong female characters, some mystery, fantasy, magic, and friendship. Oh, and a lot of romance with vampires.

Those appendages, attachments, accessories, and extras have to be included, because agents ask for specifics. 

I am patiently waiting for an agent to ask for strong female characters/ action adventure/ coming of age/ magic/ diverse/ mystery/ fantastical and philosophical fiction set in a fantasy world. And when they do, I’ll be ready!

 

I applaud the librarians who can categorize books in today’s world of crazy compartmentalizing and any librarian who can find a Romance/ comedy/ diverse/ vampire/ time travel book when asked is amazing. You got to bring your ‘A’ game at all times as a librarian nowadays.

I blame fast food joints, because they started it by saying you can have a burger any way you want it. Pickles no onions. Tomatoes no lettuce. Tomatoes, pickles, no ketchup.  Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!

 

The world is moving to fast for me. I am a dinosaur waiting for the asteroid.

 

“Burger, fries, and a medium coke, please.”

“How do you want your burger, sir?”

“Cooked.”    

 

Librarians are the gate keepers of knowledge, treat them with respect.

 

j/k