Tag: Writing

Breaking News: My retirement from writing

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Writing and I are getting a divorce. Pour a drink, pull up a chair, and play the Michael Bolton music. There may be some man tear dust in the air here soon.

An old man once told me. Get out before you stink up the profession. Never mind the fact that he was drinking warm red bull and picking up a half eaten sandwich at Union Station, Perhaps, profound thoughts occur at your lowest point. Maybe he was really hungry and didn’t want to pity any fools. Either way, as old man advice will do, it hangs with you through the years.

The time has come for me to hang up the writing gloves and do something else.

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What else? Badminton tournaments are an option. I’m not just talking about a middle school P.E. class battle between a punk kid and the overweight female gym teacher who doesn’t shave. I am talking about the biggest and baddest players on the earth. Natural geographic carnage. I’d seek these people out.

I could go to Francis Park and whisper sweet nothings into the statue by the fountain. Is there a fountain in Francis Park? Let’s table that one.

I could work at Dairy Queen for obvious reasons.

I could go out and get a real job.

Worldwide coffee shop philanderer could work. Go around the world, beg for coffee, get really worked up, and come home to recount my tales.

The radio business is soaking up some time so I could just talk more there. Being the voice that literally wakes up St. Louis takes time so I could work on that.

Writing is hard shit, bro. It’s homework for life. An everlasting chore. A need to impose a will that most find annoying. Delivering white hot passionate takes about the Cardinals only gets you 20 parody accounts and hate DM’s. What’s the worth?

Why write about who to find in the free agent trade market when a hundred other sets of hands are writing the same thing? It isn’t like Baseball Reference is special to just a few writers. WAR, OPS+, DRS. How about GTFOOH? Get the fuck out of here. Try that out. Oh, wait. You can’t say fuck. Family site. Too bad. Let Quentin Tarantino work it into his last film.

I could finally finish one of my seventeen screenplays. Wait, that’s writing. Scratched.

I could travel around and interview the safe zone dwellers who were struck down by the Donald Trump election triumph. We could discuss their future in dark caves in remote locations where all they can eat is ramen noodle and spam. Talk about Huff Post Podcast worthy.

I could be a better husband and father. Stop telling Vinny hold on or give me a minute while I finish an article. The minute really is an hour anyway. No, this won’t happen.

I now understand when people say enough is enough or a passion dies a thousand deaths in the right time of November with the temperature under 40 degrees. Sometimes, a thing just can’t last.

I could blame it on Tate Donovan. What a prick.

Hilary Clinton deleted my urge to inform.

Gordan Ramsay told me I had fat fingers.

The keyboard thinks I’m ugly and filed a lawsuit against my hands.

Tom Cruise didn’t run enough in my articles.

Hollywood wants to reboot my writing so I have to stop.

Bruno(the #1 Twitter handle for Cardinals knowledge, not the actor or musician) made me do it. (Imagining the sound of his high pitched voice telling me how bad I am makes my stomach hurt).

Daniel Winnett was no longer optimistic about my writing’s future.

John Mozeliak finished second in negotiating for my writing to continue.

Real Housewives wouldn’t whine about it.

The Bachelor didn’t give my writing a rose.

My writing went to the same restaurant that Tony Soprano went to before the fade to black and Journey song.

It went to the same doomed construction site that Stringer Bell went to.

It met Negan and that barbed wire baseball bat.

Let’s just say I have had enough and will retire from writing at the tender age of 34.

It started with 3,000 word email/rants to a group of friends.

It ends with KSDK, St. Louis Game Time, and Inside STL ramblings that look semi professional.

This is the end. Thanks for reading if you did. If not, thanks for leading to this decision.

 

 

 

 

 

By the way, this is all bullshit. There’s no way in hell that I’m stopping.

November FOOLS! Yes, that’s a new thing. Happy Thanksgiving!

 

 

 

 

The “I could” writers are the worst

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There’s nothing more annoying than hearing someone on social media say they can write better than someone and not backing up with an actual piece of evidence. I call these people the “pretend” writers. The “I’m going to” or “If I had time” writers.

Let me make something crystal fucking clear. You either write or you don’t. Forget the promise or planning. Sit down and do it. Life passes you by while you are busy making plans to do something else. Opportunity and credibility also run past if you keep pretending.

I ran across this from one of my biggest trolls on Twitter last night.

Let me introduce you to Nick and what a troll is. A troll on social media is someone who doesn’t engage yet merely stops by to pick at an old scab and then run away. They pop up when they feel it’s time to hate and then disappear. They rarely wish to have a conversation. That would be too much. For example, this is the 15th or so time Nick has complained about these writers at the Post Dispatch. Keep in mind Jose Ortiz, Ben Frederickson, and Benjamin Hochman are all on social media and have accounts but Nick didn’t want to tag them for fear of actual engagement. He lists their names and trolls them. Nick is a coward. Don’t be like Nick.

The above tweet angers me most. “I absolutely could” is a big statement for a man who hasn’t written an article(or at least one that I could find) in the past year. He’s pretender. (more…)

Writing is a therapeutic adventure for me

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For me, writing has always been a therapeutic adventure. Something I needed to do in order to keep the noise in my head at a dull roar. Every writer has ideas, needs, and different tools in order to express their opinion rolling around in their cerebellum at all times. I love telling stories, providing perspective and being a unique voice of reason for my readers.

It all started when I was a young kid living in St. Louis. I would get up every morning, grab a couple quarters and sprint to the nearest St. Louis Post Dispatch paper machine to read what sports writer Bernie Miklasz had to say. I needed to get his take. He was my voice. I craved an editorial perspective on sports, movies or television. Right then, I knew what I wanted to do for a living.

Today, all I do is write and about a number of subjects.I can tell you what television show to watch, what movie to go see in theaters, and then detail the St. Louis Cardinals latest offseason moves in one evening internet search. It keeps me happy, sane and provides me with an edge to constantly forward with. (more…)