When I see this …

… I think of this.
For the free ebook novel and more, click here.
You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
When I see this …

… I think of this.
For the free ebook novel and more, click here.
Much of my career as a professional journalist involved designing newspaper pages, looking for ways to attract a reader to a story while also fitting the headline, text, and accompanying photo into what were often challenging spaces around jagged stacks of ads.
With a solid high school background in visual art itself, I came to the graphic side of design with a deepened appreciation for illustration, logos, advertising campaigns, letterheads, magazine covers, and, of course, book jackets – and I could be sharply critical of what I saw presented to the general public.
As I remember photojournalism guru Chuck Scott scoffing as he looked at a prissy photo-essay page, “That looks like art director work! Give me something more direct!” Or something like that. The point was, he didn’t want fussy or cute.
I’m the same way. Keep it clean, for starters. Have a strong graphic image. And keep the type to a minimum.
The cover to my first published novel suffered from the cut-up approach. It just looked klutzy, despite the best intentions of the lotus pattern imposed over a photo. And the second entry, from an early ebook venture, never really had a cover.
So the opportunity to work with Jeremy Taylor on my Smashwords edition covers gave me a chance to put my concept into play. A strong photo with little more type than the title and author.
The photos were purchased from inexpensive stock collections and selected as an indirect homage to Richard Brautigan’s playful portraits from his Avon series back in the hippie era. His covers remain some of my favorites.
Let’s not forget ways ebook fronts differ from regular paper editions. They’re smaller, thumbnail size, really, with little room for blurbs or the like. It’s one quick look rather than turning the volume around in your hands and reflecting, however briefly.
So that’s what we have there.
When I reinstated my own Thistle/Flinch imprint as a PDF ebook line here at WordPress, the cover design fell to me, for all of the budgetary reasons you’d expect in offering free editions.
Again, I’ve stuck to the basics – strong graphic image, minimal type.
What’s been fun for me is working within a Word program rather than venturing out, say, into Gimp or beyond. That is, in light of the constraints on my time, I’m sticking with basics.
As a writer, though, I’d had no need to play with colored type or pages, much less insert photos. I’m old-fashioned that way, viewing this action as a typewriter, mostly. Even my WordPress blogging fits closely with my print-publishing orientation.
Well, you can see what I’ve done. I rather like it. And it’s been fun. Care to take a look at the full lineup?
~*~
See what’s available as Smashwords and Thistle/Flinch.
No matter how wild the narrative, With a passing freight train of 119 cars and twin cabooses is sounding saner than some of the political candidates.
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More than zoology prompts these poems. The human imagination runs wild across the range. Up the mountain. Into the sky. Down in the sea. Under the earth.
To run along, fly along, swim along, sing along, crawl along, click here.
It’s all in our nature, too.
When I see this …

… I think of this.
For the free ebook novel and more, click here.
In college, I went through a soul-searching crisis that questioned whether we could justify subsidizing symphony orchestras or opera companies or art museums and the like in light of the economic inequities in our nation and world. And then I noticed how much of an entertainment industry flowed through the ghetto and Third World, too. That is, everybody has art (even those old Quakers, in a few restricted forms) — it’s not necessarily about money but a need for expression. And all of the emotions and aspirations that go with it. As well as the big bucks, for the big jobs.
In my trials after college, I eventually found myself moving among Friends and then, in time, a few who had grown up under the old restrictions that banned fiction, theater, and even music. Harsh as the old discipline was (and I could have never lived under it), there was also a valid criticism – especially of the superfluous nature of so much of the artistic effort and the egotism so rampant in its ranks.
Maybe the early Friends saw, too, how much the arts were a function of the royal court and its fashions. Or a gilded church. Even the way arts were used to veil the upper crust from the populace and its labors. It turns outs the original Quakers were also picking up on a dialectic from the earliest days of the Christian church, one that contended acting arose in counterfeiting thoughts and actions, many of them of an evil nature.
Within the memory of Quakers, at least, the fine arts have come a long way from the 1650s, pro and con.
Still, proscribing many of the arts did focus Friends on other matters, including abolition and nonviolence. It channeled creative energy into mathematics and science, architecture and industry, poetry and journalism (“We Friends only read true things,” as one Quaker purportedly said, regarding a neighbor’s stack of novels). Go ahead, tally the other fields.
On the other hand, how much of our own focus is deflected by our apparent indulgence? Or how much of it is enriched and deepened?
So how do we make peace with that seemingly artless side of our legacy? Let me suggest we begin with a consideration of “only true things” in our practice. Back to the deeper expression, the part that reflects Truth that goes beyond quantifiable facts. We might even begin with questions of quality or justice or compassion. And then, as they say, the plot thickens.
It’s not the first time I’ve read it this way:
It feels all so fitting for a suburb.
Think of these poems as an almanac for the year, a monthly calendar of not just rows of days and weeks but also the centuries of New England.
Where the past peers into the present and future.
And you peer back.
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Think of passenger rails and unless you’re a rare daily commuter, you’re likely to envision earlier eras. Steam powered locomotives, for starters.
And then great journeys across the landscape.
Now keep going. Deeper into history. Trips onto the frontiers of knowledge. The edge of the known world.
You might run into genius in the most unanticipated haven.
Like this.
For your ticket, click here.