I found my second wind, and now I am picking up from where I should have left off.  (Does that make any sense?)   Instead of writing the book that I want to write, I am writing the book that I need to write.

Last night, while watching Reign Over Me, I had this revelation.  I started to understand where I was in my life and why I was so bitter and angry.  Before, I had blamed my wife and God and anything else that I could think of.

I was wrong.  It was me…it was all my fault.  I didn’t make anyone hurt me or betray me, but I did (and do) have control of how I deal with it.

I’m writing again.

It’s coming though.  I will get it together.

The new title is For Mika.  I hope to be finished with the re-writes within the next 2-3 weeks.  I have a complete story, and I care a lot more about the characters than I did with the first incarnation.

Right now, my wife is reading it, and I hope she will put forth some good comments that will challenge me to improve.  I may have a few other people, Japanese women preferably, read over it.

Make sure that you’re ready to pick up a copy when it becomes available.

I have not written anything during my vacation. 

I have met quite a few people who run book clubs, however; they want to use my book, Unbecoming.  I am a little nervous about having my book discussed, especially since I know I could have done a better job, but it feels good to know that I am building an audience.

I had been trying to write a book that people would like, so I made the mistake of thinking too hard about who I might offend and how I could draw readers in.  However, what I should have done was just write a book that I would enjoy.

He had made a comment a year ago about one of my other books, a poetic journal about a violent street thug, and I didn’t truly understand it until I got stuck on this book, Kireidesune.

He told me to write the book as if nobody would ever read it, to just put on paper what was inside of me and make changes only if they are necessary.

Taking his advice, I started rewriting the book, and I accomplished more in three weeks with a new way of thinking than I had when I was trying to be a good writer.

I’m satisfied with where I am.  I’m developing a story with likable characters and a subplot that will challenge my ability.

I hope I can pull this off and produce a work that my readers will appreciate.

I miss the blissful ignorance of just writing without thinking about what I’m doing.  Thanks to him, I am trying to write a good book, but it is hard, more difficult than any of the others.

I have about 30,000 words left to type.  That’s 30,000 headaches.  30,000 disappointments.  30,000 moments of the ultimate satisfaction.

You see, there’re very few things better than writing a book.  Very few things bring me joy.  Not like this.

Any suggestions?

Its strange what things motivate and inspire us.  For some, it is beauty or angels.  I feel lucky, for me it was both.

I’m writing again.

My writint is like Nikki Giovanni’s poetry; straight to the point and in human language.  I was trying to write a classic, but I was not classical writer.  I am a normal man who should stick to writing a normal book in normal language.

I hear thunder.