Backup File Blues, Redux

Yep, the computer nerds got back to me this morning.  Murphy's Law still has a strong influence in my life.  The flash drive is completely shot, they weren't able to get anything off of it.  A lesson about computers (re)learned, I guess.  My inner Fred Sanford shouts, "Backup all your files, you big dummy."

It's not nearly as bad as I first thought.  I have copies of most of the poems and stories on my laptop hard drive, just not my most recent edits.  But I have to compile all of these things and organize them and re-edit them to polished final form...all time and energy that could/should be used for writing. 

It being the end of 2007, this is a good time for me to do this task and assess the work I have done and where I am going (or not) as a writer and all that other sentimental reflective bull crap.  Guess that will be my chore for the weekend.  The sooner I start, the quicker I can move on to better things.  Sigh.

In the irony category, the first poem I wrote since the untimely death of my flash drive earlier this week was titled Burn Everything Down and Start Over.  Kinda fitting...

Well, I am hoping for some good news today.  A contest that I entered is allegedly supposed to post the winners list online today.  Fingers crossed, hoping I'll be back later with some positive news to offset this flash drive fiasco.  Two words: cautiously optimistic. 

Backup File Blues

You'd figure after all the damn term papers I've lost in high school and college, after all the projects I've lost at work when the server crashed, that maybe, just maybe I'd have sense enough to have backup files of all my writing.  Duh.

Yet here I am, mourning the apparent loss of a USB flash drive that all of sudden doesn't work after two years of faithful service.  That leaves me with a LOT of poems and fiction pieces missing.  So a sizeable chunk of my writing career is at a nerdy computer place...and I am hoping the tech-savvy staff there can recover all this work I've lost.  The worst part:  having only myself to blame, really.

Now I'm sitting here making a pledge eerily similar to those "never gonna drink again" promises I've made in the midst of a four-aspirin hangover:  God please, if you help me get through this without any damage, I swear I'll never go more than a week without backing up my files...I swear. 

Unfortunate News

Effective today, I am no longer affiliated with RockWay Press - therefore the manuscript My Own Brand of Blues will not be published by the company.  I honestly wish the company and its authors the best in their future endeavors, but things just did not work out the way they were originally invisioned.

It is a scary yet exciting time in my writing career.  Here I am, an emerging writer with no book deal and a literary world of opportunity (and pitfalls) positioned in front of me.  I could conquer this situation or fall flat on my face - like Linus says in the pic, there's no heavier burden than a great potential.  Either way, I will continue to pursue publishing opportunities and try to find a home for my book. 

Justice for the Jena 6

A major injustice is unfolding in Jena, LA as six black young men are railroaded in a case that reads like one straight from the era of Jim Crow. Read up and take action, now. If you think this is wrong, the least you can do is sign the petition.  Click here to read more about this dire situation for African Americans that has, of course, remained largely unpublicized.

Stop Waiting, Start Writing

The finest writing that I’ve produced comes from me getting sick of waiting.

I sometimes find myself waiting for someone to write a particular type of story, or maybe pen a poem about a certain subject I care deeply about. Or maybe I’m waiting for someone to produce a type of writing that would simply be exciting to me. But while I wait, nobody ever does it. I eventually get sick of waiting, so I get off my butt and write that poem or story myself. That’s how my best work as an author and poet has come about; it’s the point where I stop being content and start becoming creative. I believe that’s what a writer – or singer, artist, photographer, rapper, etc. – should be looking for. An opportunity to do something truly different. If you’re constantly waiting for someone to come up with a certain piece of art or literature that sings to you, and yet you find that nobody does it, then go and figure it out for yourself. Then you are really inspired, and you’ll produce something that is exciting to you, and hopefully in the process something that will be exciting to the world.

Rejection Notice Blues

Being a writer, you get accustomed to rejection.  Seriously.  I estimate on average that I get at least 20-25 rejection notices before I get a contest win or accepted to a publication.  But you get pretty thick skinned and you never take it personally.  I'm really not the one to complain about getting rejected.  But when an editor sends me a rejection notice addressed to "Adam"...well I start to second guess if they carefully they read my work and cover letter.  Seriously, how the hell does Adam = Adrian?  I just can't figure that equation out.  Oh well, I'll do what I always do, dust myself off and keep writing and submitting.  I'm putting the finishing touches on a new poetry manuscript I plan on sending out to a couple of contests, so I'll be busy with that this weekend.  I'll post up here again soon...just had to get that bit of frustration off my chest.

Sincerely,

Adam S. Potter

I'm not dead...

...just been busy.  "The job" has been dominating my time, keeping me from my work:  writing, reading, shameless self-promotion.  Hope to find some free moments to write and blog soon.  This honest job stuff is really cutting into my free time.  Later...

why I write

because an alpha-male Gemini with mood swings can’t hide sinister thoughts or embarrassing feelings unless they are stashed inside books and journals, especially since nobody really reads literature anymore.

because writing is cheaper than therapy and a bit healthier than alcoholism.

because something good should come from all my bullshit experiences.

and sometimes I write simply to empty a pen and waste paper.