Tag Archives: My Poetry

why i rarely read fiction

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As a writer of poetry and fiction you might think I read a lot of creative and fictional writing.  I don’t.  Anymore.  I’ve probably read two works of fiction in the last year.  On the other hand, I’ve read at least a dozen non-fiction titles in the past six months.

It hasn’t always been this way.  When I was in my teens and twenties, fiction was all I read.  I especially enjoyed science fiction and fantasy.  In my thirties, I turned to the classics.  I spent several years reading dozens of classics from Kesey to Steinbeck and Hemingway to Conrad.

I also started my college education in my thirties and I began reading books on communication, business, and psychology as an undergrad.  My graduate studies led me to read about cults and folk music.  I’ve read most everything about and by Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger.  I kept reading some classic fiction titles, too.

After getting my M.A., I read nearly everything written by Cormac McCarthy and Wallace Stegner.  I’ve also read dozens of Christian titles from C.S. Lewis to Rob Bell.  My latest favorite fiction writer is Garth Stein who wrote The Art of Racing in the Rain.  But here’s why I don’t read much fiction:

1. It hinders the creative writing process.  Although I love great stories and I’m much more entertained by a good fictional story than non-fiction, fiction has the potential to influence my own creative ideas.  As someone who started writing novels in his late 40s, I feel like I’ve found a unique voice.  I don’t have the sense that I’m imitating any other writer.  I want to keep that voice.  Reading another’s fictional voice, especially while working on writing my own novel might have a profound influence.

2. Non-fiction is a constant teacher.  Fiction can teach us valuable lessons about life, but non-fiction can teach practical skills.  Non-fiction also doesn’t influence my own creative writing efforts.  If you look at my All Star Reviews page, you’ll see only non-fiction titles.  That’s because I haven’t read any fiction since starting that page about six months ago.

Question: So what kinds of books do you read and why?

THUMBNAIL_IMAGEPlease take a moment to learn more about my writing.  Check out my book pages: A Train Called Forgiveness and At the Crossing of Justice and Mercy.  Both titles are available at Amazon, and A Train Called Forgiveness is available as an audiobook at Audible.

the future keeps getting better

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SAM_0072I’m going to be increasing the amount of posts I post each week.  

I know.  I just cut back about a month ago, but I like variety and increasing posts allows me to post a larger variety of writing.

Along with the variety, I’ll be creating a couple of new series’ for the summer.  

Currently, I’m running my Public Speaking Series.  If you ever have to speak in public you know how difficult it can be.  I teach public speaking as a college instructor, so I thought I’d share some of my expertise.  Read the posts and listen to the podcasts every Tuesday.

I’m also currently re-posting Excerpts from my first book, A Train Called Forgiveness, on Fridays.  After I complete the reposts from my first book, I’ll be adding excerpts form my second book, At the Crossing of Justice and Mercy.

If you missed it, check out my Dad’s Last Sermon Series.  My dad passed away a couple of years ago, but a friend of his gave me a recording of his “last sermon.”  Although it’s a little left of the traditional Christian point of view, Dad was definitely a true believer.

Monday Morning Shorts will start in June and run through the summer.  I started writing some very short posts about a month ago.  I created the new category so that you could check out the examples of what’s to come.  Mondays are busy, and I know your time is important, so I’ll be posting short and concise, yet meaningful posts each Monday morning.

Songs for Saturdays: Yesterday I posted a song about homelessness by Steve Earle.  It’s the first time I’ve included a video on my blog.  In the future I’ll be posting either audio or video of songs each Saturday throughout the summer.  I’ll choose songs by great songwriters that I believe have social significance.  As I write songs myself, I may include my own songs from time to time, too.  Check out my Songs from A Train Called Forgiveness.

And I’ll continue to post poems, songs and guest posts.  Check out the remaining categories: My Poetry, Songwriting, and Welcome Guests.

If you’re interested in being featured on my blog, or featuring my work on your blog, please email me at danerickson@danerickson.

molecules of my youth

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Splashed across the planet,

dashed upon the rocks of the

Atlantic, Old Orchard Beach,

like grains of sand, each one

has its place in the larger

scheme of things, the big picture

that we cannot see through

mere mortals’ eyes.

Left on busses, trains, along

city streets, at the tops of

the tallest buildings, in taxis,

restaurants, subways, from

sea to shining sea and carried

beyond.  Spread atop mountain

peaks, blowing eastward, swirling

in the wind, touching down in

pristine lakes, raging rivers,

trickling streams, on a single

blade of grass gently waving

in the Flint Hills of Kansas.

The molecules of my youth

live on forever, even as I pass

the midpoint of this journey

into bliss.  They dance and sing

and scramble ‘cross the page

in words and pictures, saved

in the intricate gears and wheels

of time.  They stare back at me

sparkling, filled with life, precious

beyond gold and diamonds,

in my children’s eyes.

a heavy dose of harsh reality

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An ignorant judge and two snakes

without a clue.  Decisions made by

the wrong book, God and wisdom

be damned.  Three failed attempts

thrown out as inconclusive.  Social

proof ignored like the plague.

A child jeopardized in a system run

by foolish men.  ”Have pity,” they said,

“on that poor mother.”  Pay no heed

to the child’s best interest.  Just

let the kid run wild in the streets.

“Have pity on that poor mother.”

Just let the kid become entitled,

a manipulator, a thief.  ”Have pity

on that poor mother.”  So what if

she can’t swim to save herself.

Let the kid drown.

So they did what they did,

but they’d never do it to their own,

the sons-of-bitches.  And who

holds justice accountable?  Guess

we’ll have to wait and see.

They set her up for failure; set me

up for bankruptcy; set the kid up

for delinquency.  Just slap down

the plastic and smile.

solomon’s dilemma

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Back-breaking toil under the sun,

all for nothing but vanity’s sake.

Selfish creations of our own making,

building walls out of words and stones.

We try to hold on, reshape the past,

by repeating our father’s mistakes.

The cycle returns, season to season,

our days we find wasted for naught.

Caught in the maelstrom of Solomon’s

dilemma, the funnel is pulling us under.

Illusions of grandeur, we follow intent,

all the while sinking with the ship.

The answer lies within the storm itself,

to move with the current’s flow.

three passes

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We kissed in my doorway.

You shrugged one shoulder

and walked away.  We kissed again

in your driveway.  Again, you shrugged

one shoulder as I climbed into my car.

And when we met that day in the petrified

forest, you did it again.  The single-shoulder

shrug.  The non-comittal one that means,

“whatever?”

Three passes.

Today, I drove.  I thought of you.

I wondered.  You’ve had a change

of heart.  Or maybe, it’s me.

Rodney Crowell, Steve Earle, and

the ghost of Townes Van Zandt

were my riding companions.

I listened to  their heartfelt, soulful

wisdom as I drove White, Cayuse,

Chinook.

Three passes.

The wind blew freedom

through wide-open windows

as Steve sang Townes:

“So the serpent slide softly away

with his moments of laughter.

And the old washer woman has

finished her cleaning and gone.

But the bamboo hang heavy in the

bondage of quicksilver daydreams.

And a lonely child longingly looks

for a place to belong.”

I drove on.

To live is to fly.

Three passes.