So, to finally wrap up (for now) this road thing (before I beat the cliche to death) …. It’s been a long and winding, um,  road. (Sorry!) I began writing fiction in the early ’80’s, finished a novel that’s still gathering dust on a shelf, wrote short stories and got a few stories published, won a few contests and received my fair share of rejections from editors and agents. And then I went off-road (Sorry again!) and didn’t write another fictional word (unless you count some of the college recommendations I penned at CHS) for nearly twenty years, till I took that Dangerous Writing class in ’05. I guess the path (switching cliches!) I followed was somewhat non-conventional but, on the other hand, when it comes to writers and writing what’s normal? Where I am right now feels wonderful. I’ve self-pubbed my first novel and got my sights set (another cliche!) on at least three more, including that one gathering dust. As long as the story lines and characters keep popping into my head, why not bring them to life and, while I’m at it, enjoy the view from the road (ugh!).

(Next up, Not the Road!)

So, despite the treachery of that NY agent who had boosted my hopes skyward and then shot them down, I did, nevertheless, heed some of his advice: I read a book he recommended for a model of how he envisioned Trout Kill might go. That book was Spartina, by John Casey. I loved the story. In Spartina, the protagonist builds a fishing boat to help him battle the “ghosts” from his past, and then he sails the boat into an Atlantic storm and finds redemption. In the Trout Trilogy, the protagonist builds a new heart and “sails” it into the storms that arise from his troubled past. Maybe he’ll be redeemed, and maybe not–I haven’t got to the end yet, so I don’t know what his fate will be. But you can see the parallels between the two stories. After reading Spartina, I rewrote Trout Kill, streamlining the plot … and never heard back from that bastard agent. That’s what put me on the road to self-publication, which I’d always frowned upon before as mere “vanity press.” But my mind was made up. I asked a few friends to help edit TK, design the cover and take the author photo. I was ready to find a publisher. I started locally, with Inkwater Press in Portland, Oregon. I expanded my search and eventually settled on Outskirts Press in Parker, Colorado. They seemed to offer a few more bells and whistles, like giving authors 10 free copies instead of only 5.

(Part IX later)

During the next few years, roughly ’07-’10, Trout Kill slowly evolved toward its final shape. I joined a Dangerous Writer’s group taught by Joanna Rose and Stevan Allred and they gave me valuable feedback. I completed that draft of the book, about number four, or so. Later, thinking I’d completed Trout Kill at last, I started writing the second novel of the Trout Trilogy, Trout Run. I formed my own writer’s group and wrote about a hundred pages of it. Then, in the summer of 2010 I pitched Trout Kill to an agent at the Willamette Writer’s Conference. He said he’d like to see the entire book. I sent it to him; he read it and suggested major changes. Over the next few months I revised the book and then sent it back to him. I never heard from him again. To say the least, it pissed me off. It wasn’t the first time I’d been burned by a publisher, agent or an editor. I thought, “To hell with him.” That painful experience put me on the road to self-publication.

(Part VIII later)

During ’05-’06 I faced many personal challenges. One was my retirement from teaching after nearly thirty years. Another was divorce. Another was starting a novel. But nonetheless in 2005, in earnest ignorance I plunged into writing the first draft of Trout Kill (Over the next six years, I rewrote it numerous times … I lost track of how darn many). The main plot line of those early drafts, in hindsight, was “misguided” for a couple of reasons: First, the story was too big and not focused on Eddy Trout, the protagonist of TK, and his small-town world; and second, the plot too closely resembled what had happened to me–and was happening–in my personal life; in other words, I identified too closely with Eddy and hadn’t sufficiently distanced myself from him psychologically and emotionally. But on the positive side, those early drafts honed Eddy’s tragic back story involving his father, mother and sister. In the Trout Trilogy I’m writing, that history is slowly revealed to him, his sister, his wife, his friends and you, the reader.

(Part VII later)

I attended a week-long Dangerous Writing workshop in Cannon Beach, Oregon, in July of 2005, and the events of that week changed my life in many profound ways, one of which was writing. Tom Spanbauer taught the workshop. Tom is a marvelous, bighearted and emotionally honest teacher, and he encourages and challenges his students to peer into their hearts and tell stories about those “sore places” that only they can thoroughly explore. The “danger” resides in personal revelation, that is, “Writing what personally scares or embarrasses the author in order to explore and artistically express those fears honestly. Most dangerous writing is written in first-person narrative for this reason and deals with subjects such as cultural taboos.” (Wikipedia) For me, being introduced to this philosophy of writing was both exhilarating and liberating. During the workshop I shared stories based on “scary” incidents that occurred during my childhood, namely child abuse. Themes of the absent father are also prevalent. During the workshop I conceived the central idea for my Trout Trilogy: A middle-aged man with a troubled past and loveless marriage kills his old heart (Trout Kill), seeks a new one (Trout Run), and finds it (Trout Love). Dangerous Writing is my philosophical touchstone.

1987-2005

These were the dormant years. After the “failure” of my Vietnam novel in the mid-80’s–that word shows how ignorant I was about what constitutes the success or failure of a writer, as measured solely by publication–I didn’t write fiction again for nearly twenty years. The novel sat on a shelf, and the fire in my belly cooled. These years were filled with teaching, coaching baseball, raising our two young daughters, remodeling our home, renovating two other homes as rental properties and, beginning in 2000 and lasting until 2005, building a brand new home on the McKenzie River, where we planned to retire. During most of these non-writing years I was focused on material “success” rather than artistic fulfillment. However, I began to miss writing and came to realize that one day I would write again. In 2005, the cold embers in my belly rekindled, fanned by passions I never imagined I possessed.

(Part V later)

1981-86

These years saw more very modest success in getting short stories published in journals and magazines. Also had success entering my fiction in a variety of contests, such as those sponsored by Willamette Writers (Portland) and Pacific Northwest Writers (Seattle). I began sharing my fiction with various Language Arts classes I was teaching at Canby High. “Marlene” was a favorite, a story about an insecure young man trying to win the deeper affections of his girlfriend. It involves a bit of fantasy, and biting the heads off chickens. I took week-long writing workshops and honed my craft. I even taught fiction writing to an evening community ed. class. The primary focus of my writing during these years, though, was Perimeters, my Vietnam novel. It took a lot of research and years to write; it’s a complex, psychological story with various plot lines and characters. I employed two cardboard boxes: one was full of scraps of paper upon which I’d jot ideas for characters, scenes, etc.; and the other box contained the scraps I used in the story. A messy system. The excitement of writing never flagged. Weekdays during the school years I would often awaken at 5:00am, write for two hours and then go teach. Weekends and holidays were taken up with writing. My wife and two young daughters were very considerate of my needs. One daughter or the other would sometimes come into the den, sit on my lap and watch me write. After completing the book, I submitted an excerpt to a contest sponsored by Pacific Northwest Writers and won a prize; an agent expressed keen interest; I worked with an New York editor at Bantam Books on two rewrites, but it all came to naught. The book was never published.

(Part IV later)