I have to throw my two cents in here as well. When I returned from Viet Nam in 1970 I wrote an article about my experiences of being an advisor to the Vietnamese in the Phoenix Program which appeared on the front page of the Ottumwa Daily Courier along with a photo that I had taken. I received $20.00 for that story.

Interestingly in that same issue was a smaller article about Congress starting to conduct hearings on the Phoenix Program. The Phoenix program involved the elimination of the Viet Cong military infrastructure.

In college I wrote for the school newspaper and had a poem accepted for a collection published through the Writing Department. Later I wrote and edited a newsletter for Parents Without Partners and also a newsletter for a volunteer program of which I was the coordinator involved with the Minnesota Department of Corrections.

I had as a neighbor a fellow named Richard Bach, the author of Jonathan Livingston Seagull, who had been in a writing group conducted by Ray Bradbury. Richard mentioned me in one of his books called Nothing By Chance (page 215) and I was able to read and edit pages of Nothing By Chance as he was writing them direct from the typewriter.

But having had the privilege of knowing two of the greatest living authors today, alas I have to admit that I have not done what I should have.

Today I write advertising copy (I know that it doesn't really count) and know that it not too late to do something about writing.

Very first job in my life was ~
... filling-in and filing those 3x5 index cards, with names of writers applying for jobs thru the writer's agency for which I worked. How long did I work there? One day! Never went back to pick up my check. The place was so gosh darn awful boring. Looking back, it was an extreme example of complete stupidity.

Later, I worked on about 10 (ten) trade journals. My first one was with American Surgical Dealer magazine, as an assistant editor. Later with magazines with such glorious titles as... Electrified Industry and Foods of Tomorrow. The most 'bizzare' job I ever had was with a place called Rockley Academy outside of Chicago, where I was hired to write motivational materials for small chiropractic businesses. Followed or trailing (can't remember, it's all a blur now) by working as an artist and sometime writer for a convention consultant firm, Impact International in Chicago. Worked on 2 or three other magazines with titles long forgotten.

Published/wrote as editor for a couple newsletters with heart-jumping titles as Cleaning Contractor's report and Single Parents Fellowship. Total of 3 stories published in college, and one published by a friend of editor Avram Davidson. Avram put in the good word for me to have the fellow publish one of my wretched stories, which he did. I can't recall the title, but it had to do with a time when there was no illness, no sickness, no pain, no emotion, and someone in this 'clean' society managed to find a way to acquire a simple rash and 'inflict' others in this super sterile world where pain and discomfort was a unique and 'wonderful' experience.

Published a small space newspaper for a while. I posted some of the pages online here.

click on~ https://raybradburyboard.com/eve/forums/a/tpc/f/6791083901/m/2201055303

I'm sure there were other things. But now all shoveled onto a heap and forgotten in the waves of time and life.

I worked as a reporter for a local magazine and had been writing for a number of years (publishing some stories, gathering forests of rejections). A couple of years back, the magazine changed ownership and I became a victim of cutbacks. It seemed like a golden opportunity, and I told myself I'd give myself a few months of doing nothing but writing fiction. Then at some point in my adventure I developed quite a taste for poverty, and so, here I am, a couple of years later and still at it. Every now and then, the sun pokes its face through the clouds, just a few rays but enough to keep me going. I've just had a collection of short stories published here in Ireland ('In Exile') and have also completed work on my first novel. If anyone is interested in finding out a bit more about me and my work, please check out my website:

www.billyocallaghan.com

Ray Bradbury in an inevitable inspiration. He is a compass point for writers and I think anyone with any ambition to try stringing together a few words will naturally gravitate towards his books.

Here is a rant of mine published in my local paper...proving I ain't no writer...just a pain in the side of our local city council.

http://www.glendalenewspress.com/articles/2008/07/20/op.../gnp-comment0719.txt

quote:

Originally posted by Billy:
www.billyocallaghan.com

O'Callaghan is a good word.

Welcome!

quote:

Originally posted by jkt:
Here is a rant of mine published in my local paper...proving I ain't no writer...just a pain in the side of our local city council.

You should run for city council.

If I joined them I'd become them.

John, your article is very well written and I was looking for a response from a staid member of the Council, but did not see one. Do they (the newspaper) provide the ability for the Council to respond to your comments?

quote:

Originally posted by biplane1:
Do they (the newspaper) provide the ability for the Council to respond to your comments?

The city council rarely comments. They know better. Comments, from other readers, tend to be a few days delayed. The idea is to get them to re-think their policy before they make the final vote on the construction. I live in an upper-middle-class community that tends to let money talk first but votes come-in a close second...

I write human rights reports, position papers and political briefings - and the occasional request for urgent action or press release. I also write for pleasure but haven't really found time to try to get any of it published (assuming/hoping someone would wish to publish it, that may not be the case). Can safely say that stylistically Bradbury is what I aspire to - the lyrical use of words and the absolutely killer descriptions... of feelings and places and often both combined.
Oh, and I almost forgot, I also write protest letters regarding the destruction of my college (back in Virginia) - one of which was published as an op-ed by a local paper - and I did once edit and translate a book that was published but since the testimonies weren't mine I never actually feel I can take credit for having "written" a book - my name is on it though.

I just got published! But in a way that I did not expect. There is a pubication around here (Ft. Lauderdale and Miami) called New Times which has interesting articles, but, sadly, has ads in the back part of it which are rather salacious involving the services of certain young women, etc. The only reason that I was looking at it is that it has a rather narrow Help Wanted section and I look to see who I could entice to advertize in the publication I work for.

Anway, the cover story a week or so ago was on a lady who served as a sexual surrogate who worked in conjungtion with a Ph.D therapist assisting those with sexual dysfunctions.

At the end of the article was the author's email address if anyone wanted to contact him.
I wrote a brief, yet complimentary reply commenting on his "well-written, sensitive and insightful article." I also mentioned that I had been very fortunate not to have needed any of the services mentioned in the article or prescription aides offered.

Well, they published the letter in the "Letters to the Editor" Section. I just hope my wife doesn't see it and that any of our friends comment on it if they might read it. The letter was nicely written, but I am embarrassed about the comments I made about the good relationship (emotional and otherwise) that my wife and I enjoy after 30 years of marriage.

Is being published in any form still alright?

quote:

Originally posted by biplane1:
There is a pubication around here (Ft. Lauderdale and Miami) called New Times which has interesting articles, but, sadly, has ads in the back part of it which are rather salacious involving the services of certain young women.

Having lived in Palm Beach a few years ago, I am familiar with the rag and its delicious, I mean salacious adverts.

Pubication is a good word, and very appropriate here.

quote:

The only reason that I was looking at it is that it has a rather narrow Help Wanted section and I look to see who I could entice to advertize in the publication I work for.

Sure, sure.

Hunger woke me this morning. I got out of bed and went to the kitchen. The fridge was bare save some condiments and a last bit of milk. I stood in the kitchen, looking out the window at a tree dying in my back yard from some sort of rot eating at it from the inside out. I drank half a coffee cupful of milk for breakfast. It’s all the breakfast I could afford.

Standing there, my mind wandered over to the Burton armory. Fights would be held there soon. I hoped to scrape up the ten bucks to go, to get out for a while and witness some other poor bastards get pounded for a change, to see some other nobody get their chance, to spill blood on cheap canvas, to fulfill his dreams or work out some anger or prove something to himself or someone else. The last time I saw a fight there was snow on the ground and I was a little less poor.

Writers like fighters. Papa Hem and Mailer were great fight fans. For some people there’s a mystery in that. A mystique. Those baffled by writers with a love for the fight hold literature to something exalted, something higher and finer. It’s not. Writing is fighting. To write is to take on the world sans kid’s gloves, with only bare knuckles and words.

To write is to get pounded, to take your shots, to fulfill dreams, to test yourself and spill ink all over cheap pulp. Each rejection is a new blow to the writer. Rejections rarely matter, though. A writer expects to get hit. I’ve taken quite a few lumps. I’ve been writing for five years and have as yet to publish anything professionally. I’ve got five years’ worth of lumps. I’m not afraid to take more.

My corner has prepared me well. I have all the skills needed to dance in the center of the ring. I have an idea where to take the fight, but am willing to break and flow with the pace of the game. I can shuffle and dance. I can bark like Ali. I can write for the knockout. Most of all, I’m hungry. All I need is my chance in the ring. The only thing threatening to hold me back is my own lack of throwing leather. But that won’t be an issue. I have the skills. And I’m hungry.

I am my pen, my destiny to spill oceans of ink.

yeah. I'm only fourteen, but I write one or two horror/suspense stories each month. At least, that's how I'd classify them in the 'real world'. On Ray Bradbury.com, however, I guess I can call myself a Twilight Zone/Weird Tales guy and you'll all understand.

I use a 1930's style typewriter for all my writing, except final drafts. I was actually one the internet just now, so I could check submission info for Weird Tales. (I finally have a story that has a shot at being published! Wish me luck.)

If any of you guys want criticism on a story, email it to saxmastadrew@gmail.com an I'll do what I can.