Tim Clark

One of the best things I ever did as a writer was send something off to a submission call. Some benevolent god of writers made sure my first attempt found a gracious acceptance. It was a liberating feeling. I always thought I could write. I had blogged for years. And, if you measure success by volume of posts I was king. If you measured it by readers it might have been lacking. It was a lot less painful to assume I could write, but needed to work on marketing.
Then, I found a Facebook group w...

Turn and face the stray changes.

By Tim Clark
Optimism, n. …an intellectual disorder, yielding to no treatment but death. It is hereditary, but fortunately not contagious—Ambrose Bierce, in the Devil’s Dictionary.
Mostly I am an optimist. People who know me will dispute the claim, and even as I wrote it I snorted in disbelief, not enough to offend myself, mind you, just enough to express a healthy skepticism. Since I was having trouble convincing myself of my optimism I queried a random sampling of my coworkers.
“Do you thin...

By Tim Clark

Youth is a treasure. Anything is still possible, everything is still possible. Swashbuckling, invincible, filled with powerful dreams of glory, bravery, devil may care, self-contained, self-directed hero worship. No mountain too high. Until you reach the mountain, or the mountain reaches you. There is nothing as illuminating as having the chance to measure yourself against your vision of yourself. Life is where dreams go to die.

In the last episode, we discovered that constructio...

THE SPECTRES OF FAILURE AND SUCCESS
Life is fluid, evolving, flowing, a work in progress. I always had this romantic vision of being one with the liquid nature of life’s changes. I took pride in being untethered, anchorless, a free spirit. A gypsy.
I used to change jobs, a lot. If I was working in a town, and things got too heavy I would throw everything I had in my duffle bag and hitchhike somewhere else. This was back when hitchhiking was not so suicidal, or at least the danger was not so w...

Life is fluid, evolving, flowing, a work in progress. I always had this romantic vision of being one with the liquid nature of life’s changes. I took pride in being untethered, anchorless, a free spirit. A gypsy.
I used to change jobs, a lot. If I was working in a town, and things got too heavy I would throw everything I had in my duffle bag and hitchhike somewhere else. This was back when hitchhiking was not so suicidal, or at least the danger was not so well documented. It was just an inexp...

Moving and Living, and remembering what you can. It is tonic and confusing. Like life, I guess.

Summers were different back then, I was different back then. Things change, I guess

Time off always seems to be weeks away, and over before it starts.

The center; a land that mankind forgot.

Trip Adviser for the polite, and thin skinned.

My journey from smoking to writing in 1,000 words, about.

Welcome to the August Issue of The Writers Newslett...

I have a new app, my wife has a new kayak and we have a plan, as much as I ever have anyway.

I am obsessed with old music and the search for tranquility I look for both here.