Jolly Good Then

“I like the English. They have the most rigid code of immorality in the world.
~Malcolm Bradbury

I’m nut sure exactly when I became friends with Dave Fowler.  Truth is, I didn’t realize that he wasn’t Dave Wright (Blogger Dad) for the longest time.  One day, after a particularly long sequence of emails, I realized something was wrong.  “This guy used to be a reporter?”  I thought.  He can’t even spell.  At that moment I realized I’d been talking to a different Dave, one who lived on the other side of the pond where they don’t love the letter Z and, by all accounts, feast on some truly dreadful dishes.  It was an a-ha moment, a thousand cheerios! and blimeys! bloomed into clarity.

But not really.

Actually, Dave’s been here since the beginning.  He’s been reading Writer Dad since words were bouncing against the walls of a mostly empty blog.  My favorite thing about Dave is that, though he left the force to be a stay at home dad, he maintains the voice of an officer (even though he was an English bobby who preferred scones to donuts and wasn’t allowed to carry a gun like a real man).  Dave is always willing to step into a situation with articulate authority, and express what he feels is right.  Sometimes with humor, other times with carefully crafted words, but always with honor.  Dave Fowler is a jolly good man and, indubitably, a Blogger I Heart.

Here’s Jeeves:

Dare To Dream

I am a chronic daydreamer.

I’ve been a daydreamer all my life, and will remain so until I close my eyes forever.

As a child I was constantly criticised for my wandering mind.

Whilst my body was in the classroom, my mind was often absent; engaged in another, far more interesting world.

Without a doubt, daydreaming held me back; at least as far as my formal
education was concerned. I simply didn’t learn half of what was taught.  In fact, I never even heard it.

I sometimes wonder what I might have become had I not been so distracted by my wandering thoughts. I’ll never know for sure, but one thing I do know…. I was born to ponder.

I love to think, and I love the random thoughts that float about my mind. My favourite thoughts are those that pull me into a dreamlike state, then coalesce to tell a story.

It is never the sort of narrative that could become a novel, or even a children’s book, rather it is a simple story about my life; my future to be more precise.

It’s a beautiful moment; detached from reality, and immersed in a daydream.

It feels real. I see the sights, hear the sounds, smell the scents, and feel the emotions.

Once the dream has finished, it feels as though it’s actually happened, and my mind lingers with the aftertaste of a memory.

I used to fight my daydreams to stave off the constant bombardment of criticism, but I’ve come to realise the inherent power in these flights of fancy. I now believe my ability to daydream is a treasure in my life, rather than the curse it was at school.

I realise that nearly everything I’ve achieved in my life has been the product of a dream developed.

When I first met the woman who would later become my wife, I used to dream about what I would say the next time I saw her. I used to dream about how we’d fall in love, how I’d propose, and how we’d live happily ever after.

I’ve fostered daydreams about my cars, my career, my house, my interests, and pretty much everything else that make up the minutes of my days.

I’ve found this to be an incredibly powerful mechanism for achieving those things I long for most.

Prior to my revelation, I’d read much about goal setting and achieving success in life through identifying key steps, setting deadlines and then writing them down. I’m sure it works for a great many people, but I am not one of them.

My goals just ended up being another list of “things to do.”  Unfortunately for me, previous experience proved me a repeated offender of ignoring such lists.

But a story …. a story pulls me in and commands my attention; transports me from one reality to another.  A different atmosphere, where anything is possible.

I can be the hero of the story, or simply observe from a short distance away. Either way, I’m still involved.

The fable of my future – born of my daydreams – captivates and excites me like little else.  I am compelled to chase those dreams.

Within the last year, I’ve dreamt outrageous dreams of leaving my job and living a new, more rewarding life. I’ve also dreamt of earning a living by creating things of value, and then inserting them into my own agenda.

The first part of my dream has already come true.  I have absolutely no doubt that the rest of the dream will also come to be a reality.

In fact, it’s already starting to happen.

I urge you – dare to dream – about what’s possible.  Buy into the story you create for yourself, then fulfill it with happiness and success.

You can find Dave speaking Constapateze here.  It’s fun to read his blog while imagining the many funny faces that English people make while speaking.

My Feet Never Touched the Bahamas, but My Voice Found Paradise.

A friend is one of the nicest things you can have, and one of the best things you can be.

~Douglas Pagels

Bloggers I Heart: Blogger Dad

I love writing for Writer Dad.  It’s tremendous fun.  Though the whirlpool of words is a ball, the real benefit of the blog is the people who’ve entered my life.

Comments are as constant as coffee; I love them thrice as much.  Every so often, a comment leaves the blog’s basement behind, then leaks into an email… then nine… soon a hundred.

I’d like to plant my flag in new tradition.  I think we’ll call it, “Bloggers I Heart.”

Bloggers I heart are the bloggers with whom I have a running dialogue.  These are the ladies and gentleman who, were I in their city, I couldn’t imagine bread not being broken.

Anyone who has been with us longer than a week will need no introduction, but I’ll send out a sentence anyway.  It’s only fitting I start with David Wright; alter ego, Blogger Dad.  I stole his name, he stole my theme, and now here we are an armload of weeks later.  We’ve collaborated before and will again.  I don’t know how many days have passed without at least a single email, but they were few and probably sad.

Without further ado, my friend, Blogger Dad:

My Feet Never Touched the Bahamas, but My Voice Found Paradise.

Are you writing in YOUR voice or are you mimicking someone else’s?

The best way to show you how to find your voice is to tell you how I found mine.

I used to think that writing humor was easy. My influences growing up were 80’s-era Letterman, Eddie Murphy, George Carlin, Saturday Night Live “when it was good” and columnist, Dave Barry. I ate comedy for breakfast, lunch, dinner and midnight snacks (emphasis on the snacks). I knew that someday I would be making people laugh. All I needed was an audience.

I started writing for a local paper three years ago, convinced that I was going to be the Next Dave Barry. Unfortunately, the paper wasn‘t looking for a columnist. They assigned me to the political beat. While there is plenty of unintentional humor to be found in covering local politics, I rarely got a chance to flex my humor muscles in straight news stories.

While I plugged away at my beat, I practiced writing a humor column in hopes my bosses would see how brilliant I am and would give me a shot. Soon, I realized that writing humor is hard. Hell, it’s almost work.

I showed a few samples to my editor and mentor, Jason Whited. He gave some advice, carefully couching criticisms within compliments to protect my fragile writer’s ego. One of the things he said shocked me, though.

“This isn’t your voice,” he said.

“Huh?” I asked, “Of course it is! I wrote it.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t the YOU that I talk to. You haven’t found your voice yet.”

Though not intentional, my first attempts at a column were merely pale imitations of Dave Barry. My writing was like a decent karaoke performance. I sounded enough like the singer I was imitating, and some tone deaf people might even have found it listenable, but there was something lacking.

Jason’s advice was this, “Write from your heart, write often, and you will find your voice.”

Stop trying to be the next (insert writer name here)

In January 2006, I was asked to step up to the plate.

My publisher made a bet with me that I couldn’t lose 100 pounds before the year was up. If I won, he would pay for a trip for me and my wife to the Bahamas. If I lost, well, I’d be publicly embarrassed. But even if I lost, I was still a winner, because I was getting a shot at writing a regular column every other week about my efforts.

This was my chance to prove myself!

Just let go

My first piece had to be a good one. No, make that great! I wrote a few different drafts, starting out with an emphasis on “the funny” and once again aping Dave Barry’s style. On the night prior to my deadline, I was sitting in front of my computer, cycling through different drafts of the column. I was attempting to cobble something together. It wasn’t working. Then a thought occurred to me – let go.

I deleted each of the drafts quickly and decisively, knowing that if I didn’t kill them without hesitation, I would never be able to.

I put on some music, closed my eyes and searched inside. I had to lay it all out on the page. I had to be brutally honest about a subject I’d tried to dance around for most of my life. I needed to expose myself as I’d never done before. I needed to do it with humor and heart. I opened my eyes and then wrote my ass off.

After reading my first column, Jason took me out to lunch and congratulated me.

“This made me weep, man,” he confessed while looking me in the eyes, “You, my friend, have got the gift. You’ve found your voice.”

I sure as hell don’t feel all that gifted, but I believe the second part of his statement.

I wrote a lot that year, even if I didn’t lose a lot of weight. (Six pounds, for the record, so obviously my feet never touched tropical paradise.) I wrote about diets, my relationship with my father, working out and a number of other topics which people still come up to me today and ask me about. Many people told me that my columns made them laugh and cry. It was amazing to make such connections with readers.

I discovered that I wasn’t a straight up humor writer. I would never have discovered my voice if I tried to stay in the mold I had created for myself. I had to break free and be afraid to fail at what I thought I wanted to be. I am a hybrid writer, sometimes funny, but best when I write from the heart.

I know that my journey to great writing is far from over. I’m sure I will struggle for years to be as good as I’d like to be. Fortunately, I’m no longer trying to be someone else.

I’m singing my own songs now.

Blogger Dad

Nine out of ten dentists agree, teeth are ten times whiter with Blogger Dad in their reader.  You can subscribe for free, right here.  In you’d like to be informed of mealtimes, this is where he tweets.

Dejá Vuesday

“This is like Dejá Vu all over again.”

~ Yogi Berra

I love writing for Writer Dad.  Of course, anytime you’re staring into the beady eyes of a deadline, it’s bound to feel like work, but it’s a different sort of writing than anything else I do, and satisfying in an immediate way.

I sew my sentences together, send them to the world, then wait for the bottles to bob back toward my island.

Two… four…. eight…. sixteen…. thirty-two…. sixty-four hours, and then they’re gone; weeks worth of posts now buried in unmarked graves inside my server.

Most readers never reach the archives.  I don’t blame them.  I’ve never combed the annuls of even my most favorite bloggers.  It’s not personal, there just aren’t enough hours in the day.  

At this point, most of the Writer Dad audience hasn’t read anything more than a month old.  Because I’d like  to revisit some of our more entertaining prior posts, and also because I’d like to squeeze a few more minutes from my week, I’m introducing Dejá Vuesday.  The series will run through November, highlighting one vintage post each Tuesday.

If you have an old favorite, let me know.  If there’s a post that has more votes than the others, it will be featured the following week.  If you think I’m just a lazy git, you can tell me that as well.  New voices are welcome to add to the old conversation; old voices are welcome to return.

This week’s post:  No, no, no!  I said I didn’t want to be a Chooch.

Happy Vuesday,

Writer Dad

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Up and Coming Blogger has a Writer Dad guest post, all about the power of comments. You can check it out here.