Alan Asnen's Blog

A vague light remains in the sky that illuminates so very little. I look out at the landscape right now, this landscape barely visible, this landscape that is vaguely lit, I see shadows, I see something obvious, however, among the honeycombs of gray. A cat. A cat obvious because it is black and motionless, although on occasion it slinks and rests. Slinks and rests. Slinks and rests. The cat perhaps can hunt. She has specialized eyes. She can see what I cannot. What she is designed to see. She can see me though I can barely see her. I cannot know what she is doing. I can barely make out where she is. At the moment I believe her to be near a cluster of greenery but for me this vision is merely a cluster of grayness most of the time. A confusion of sky, shrubbery and ground, a numbness of scenery that becomes a moment of nothing definable except in my imagination, grays against grays that speak of nothing.
A vague light remains in the sky that illuminates so very little and this is a mirror to the problem with art today. It is merely a vague light that brings us a vision of so very little, filled with cynicism and hopelessness, the artists speaking with each other, if that, and no one else. Serving no useful purpose for humanity. And when art serves no purpose except to speak to itself it might as well not exist. Precisely what art has become today. Grays against grays that speak of nothing in a twilight while a “something” moves hunting through it. But that “something” moving through is so very important. Some amorphous thing, one shade of gray against another that the auditor cannot discern. There is no clarity to it nor any desire to have it become clear, nor any manner to have it become clear. There is no available light anywhere. No light is going to be shed here on these tones of gray. That “something” goes unrevealed.
Why is this? Because each work is a complaint, not on behalf of “people” or that important “something” but on behalf of some unknown “self.” A complaint about “I.” Here is what “I” want, what “I” need, what “I” feel. Here’s what “I” don’t like.
It is putrid and demeaning.
This is not what art was meant to represent. It does not reveal anything about humanity or life. It negates the past and future and any sense there might be a future. It negates hope and provides a platform for decadence and the end of life. Argument for argument’s sake. A conversation of endless futility. Turning back to a beginning when we were all brutes.
A time before empathy.

This one is long. Since no one is reading anyway…

The other day, Melody Gutierrez, a reporter for The LA Times, visited her original childhood home, a place in the middle of the Mojave Desert she had not seen in more than thirty years. It was, for her, an overwhelming emotional experience and one she discussed with a psychologist afterwards while doing research for a feature she wrote. He explained that attachments to childhood homes for those between the ages of five and twelve, especially, remained deep in their memories forever.
Research into how our memories work—research involving the mechanism of the hippocampus—has shown that memory is a function of spatial orientation among other sensory capacities. Sights, smells, and knowledge of where you are not only enhance but fix memories in your mind. Beyond that, during these particular childhood years, sense of place can, for many people, develop their personal sense of identity forever, a process that crosses over from the hippocampus to the hypothalamus.
For reasons too lengthy to discuss here—long enough already!—the central character in my books has a biography that shares many elements with my own. At one early point so many that I felt the need to write under a pseudonym. After alterations, I was able to write under my own name again, understanding that “he” and I did not share the same identity at all. Keep it simple.
Aspects of childhood and home are shared between this character and myself. His family is not mine. Most of their behaviors are not the behaviors of my family members (although some are; they are common behaviors). Places are at some points the same and sometimes similar. Timing is often not.
This was always the case.
Inherently—one might even have cause to say “instinctively”—no matter what else I happened to be doing to “confuse” identities at first, I was always splitting my native identity—the identity established as a child based upon my actual experiences of time and place—from the experiences I was creating for this character despite the overlapping of biographical detail I was choosing.
Other reasons, either conscious or not, may exist for these choices. I never hesitated to expose the nightmares of my childhood, as best I recall them (because I do not recall them all). Nor the pleasant moments. None of the twists, none of the breaks are left unrecorded, even if they were altered to fit a particular narrative. Many, naturally, are excised for their lack of entertainment value or usefulness. Some created out of whole cloth for the same purpose.
It is FICTION, people. And, at points, either comedy or pathos. All leading to a subjective purpose.
But…
Does it create an alternative memory? Can it? Some psychologists, lately, are of the opinion that it can, it does, and even that it should.
In this last book I am writing, this is precisely the concern the character is dealing with while attempting to solve the several “real world” problems at hand.
So… Just a thought.

Many Christians may have heard the names Augustine and Aquinas yet have absolutely no idea what those men represent, having never read what they wrote. Indeed, the effect those men have had upon religion—not only Christianity—in the US and the world beyond, has been phenomenal.
Augustine in particular is primarily responsible for the concept of “original sin” which did not exist prior to his work, neither in The Bible nor anywhere else. His reinterpretations of the Hebrew Bible, especially, gave rise to most of what current evangelical and fundamentalist Christians cling to as morally correct interpretations.
When people speak of what The Founders intended, their intentions were rather clear and based upon the thoughts of Enlightenment philosophers who stood far apart from the ideologies of the church. It was not until The Second Great Awakening (roughly 1790-1840) that government officials, mostly on the local and state level, began to adopt laws in response to their fundamentalist Christian voters.
Ironically, and this does need to be kept in mind, many of these new laws came about in response to the behavior of Southern slave owners and their propensity towards licentious behaviors and miscegenation which Northern fundamentalists found intolerable.
As the saying among historians goes, you can look it up.
Back to Augustine and Aquinas… Most of what Christians claim as going against “the word of God” simply isn’t true and is no more than a matter of interpretation, usually what was left up to being interpreted, badly, by the two of them, and the basis of that one, wrong idea of “original sin” and the basic misconception that all of humankind was, essentially, in one “tribe.”

I have a friend—honest, I do have friends—who posted a meme—you know what those are—on Facebook, now called META for some reason, a frame from an old Disney cartoon with the text “If you can't say nuffin' nice, don't say nuffin' at all!”
You might expect this to be coming from the mouth of a squirrel or chipmunk but, no, in this cartoon it was from a cute little bunny. That’s okay. I love bunnies and squirrels and chipmunks equally. Don’t you?
My friend is, generally speaking, what some would call “a person of faith” and I never quibble with her over this. I know this meme was not directed at me or any other individual, directly.
On the other hand, over dinner and such she has mentioned this “idea” to me in conversation as I do have a tendency—for arguments sake, let’s call it that—to criticize.
Now. I genuinely believe that the idea represented in that Disney cartoon is a good lesson. For children. Which is why it is in a cartoon.
Young children need to be taught that criticism is dangerous. This is why adults should never criticize children. But I’m not a therapist so that’s for someone else to discuss.
However, when a child reaches a certain age—let’s say just before tween-time—they have to begin to understand how the real world works. Because if they don’t they will run the enormous risk of becoming emotionally, ethically and morally warped, ultimately causing themselves and others great harm.
Using the example of “certain” people of faith… Some would have it that one does not criticize because “God” is at work, always. Therefore, let God “criticize.” The next logical step, therefore, is that “God” punishes and rewards. Then, those who are “good” get “rewards” and those who are “bad” are “punished.”
How easy life is, then. One does not have to be involved. Let “God” handle everything and you go about your business.
Which creates a series of problems for the children as their minds awake. They begin to see “good” people being “punished” and “bad” people being rewarded” and they don’t know how this can be possible.
Then, to make matters worse, they think of themselves being “good” and find that they are being punished. Out of the blue. For no reasons at all.
Until, for some, one day they say, “Why even bother trying to be good?”
Perhaps some will ask the question of the “right” person and be told, “God’s ways are mysterious.”
And good luck with that.
But what is the alternative? That we all grow up criticizing everything we believe to be flawed or wrong?
That would create chaos. REMEMBER: CRITICISM IS DANGEROUS. That necessary lesson from childhood remains true.
Criticism is the father of judgment. How can we judge, as individuals, what we do not understand? Do we really believe that we can ever fully understand what we are judging?
Only as a large, engaged, well-informed and involved group can we even come close to understanding and judging. Does any of that ring a bell?
This is why, as many have said, democracy, for all of its flaws, is the best system of governance.
Do not allow anyone, of any stripe, to take that away from you.

“What's the deal with those covers?”
They are pretty, aren’t they? Blake Bergeron (not to be confused, ever, with that jerk, Blake Flannagan, inSIDE my books) does an outstanding job bringing the essence of my work to life out there. Yet people are always asking, “Why did you change the style after the first four?”
Thanks.
We decided to do that in order to establish that those first four books were, together, something of an introduction to the characters and the storyline; that the books following would be more “free-standing” even though the same storyline would continue. More or less. Because this is all one story. I mean, isn’t everything, in the end, all one story? Come on...isn’t it?
“But why animals?”
I like animals! Don’t you? What kind of a person are you?!?! Cute little fuzzy things… Anyway, most of my books have an animal in them, somewhere, or a plot twist revolving around an animal. You wouldn’t want me to give that away, would you? I mean...you are going to READ THEM, aren’t you?
“And those awfully weird titles… What’s THAT about?”
You know, early on, a few years ago, I ran a contest and offered free books for life to anyone who could tell me where I pulled those titles from (no nasty remarks, please). Think of the opportunity you missed!! But, on the other hand, you probably have a hard drive full of free books you’ll never read… All of my titles are lines from Emily Dickinson’s poetry. And if you read the poems you can possibly read some deeper meaning into what the books are about. Not necessary, mind you, but it wouldn’t hurt as my old granny used to say.
Want to know more? Any questions, class? Feel free...

I was raised by people who were ignorant of, unconcerned about or careless with their religion. As a result when exposed to religion by others I was leery of its rules, especially when represented by strict authority figures. Matters of faith befuddled me because I was inclined more towards fact in any event.
By chance, after years of poking my nose around several religions including those in my family, a close friend convinced me to invest time in the Episcopal Church for purely social reasons. I was curious about what genuine good I might discover there beyond the “social,” so I used that “invested time” hounding the youngish priest, Reverend Thomas Pike, with a boatload of questions.
To my great fortune, Rev. Pike was as magnanimous a person as I had ever encountered. After revealing my deeper spiritual hesitancy and the numerous encounters I’d had with Eastern religions and mysticism, even some shady business I thought might be real when it came to “magic” and witchcraft, he and I had a series of long conversations the basis of which had to do with the difference between “faith” and “grace.”
Please do note that neither he nor I introduced the term “Christian” to modify either of those two terms, generally.
Rev. Pike counseled me to focus upon the idea of grace more or even exclusively in my life and not be concerned so much with faith; that it didn’t matter so much what I, or anyone, believed as much as how we behaved. Is there a “god” in any shape that any one religion defines? What difference as long as we treat each other kindly each day?
But what, I asked him, does one do when someone doesn’t treat you kindly?
That, he said, is what you have to learn.
I was only a boy back then. For better or worse—one day to the next, I’m not certain which is the case—I am no longer that boy. I still have much to learn. One does not go from “graceless” to “full of grace” in one easy step.
Nor does one know for certain what “full of grace” might be...perhaps until one gets there. Plenty of other places where “full of this or that” along the way are quite noticeable.
But I’m not there yet. Nor am I past getting there. And Rev. Pike, now retired, is still waving a flag, waiting for me even though I am no longer sitting in a pew.

For my friend, Kevin Strawder

Everyone has to deal with grief at some point and everyone does so in their own way.

I’ve had to deal with it at various points in my life and, like some, I’ve had to deal with probably one of the worst sorts. I say that not to draw attention to myself but because the type of grief I dealt with at one point is considered by many to be in that category. The worst. Such grief is shared by many though. When I did I was forced, finally, to seek counseling for it because I had no other way to deal with it. And, as I just said, I was forced.
At a certain point during that counseling, my therapist, who was not by the way a grief counselor but a regular psychiatrist, gave me a piece of advice in two words, which I will get to in a moment. It is an important bit of advice, one I have shared with others over the years but not here and I will and must explain why before I do share here.
And please recall that, in general, he was not entirely incompetent. This was good advice.
This is a piece of advice you would want only to share with someone you know personally and in private. Not the sort of thing you would want to share over social media with someone you only know peripherally. You should never share certain types of advice with people online because you never truly know anyone online the way you know people in person. And, again, this particular piece of advice is very direct and personal, one that requires genuine knowledge of a person and a person’s state of mind.
And, allow me to emphasize: unlike some who splatter their credentials all over, I do have plenty. But I am not a medical practitioner and I am not offering this as medical advice even though, in effect, I received it as such.
You never know a person, truly, on line. Nor in a book. (Although, of course, if you’ve been reading through, you damned well should know me by now.) You might believe you do, even after spending years “communicating with them” in groups or singularly. You really do not know them. You develop the feeling you do, but you don’t. Often in real life you develop the feeling you do and you don’t. Should I mention Ted Bundy? Jeffrey Dahmer? Hannibal Lecter? There is actually a name for this and the experts say this is rather normal. It's called a "parasocial relationship" and a lot of people have them. You become entwined with TV characters, for example, or your favorite band members...unless you become obsessed with the person you have this feeling about. So don’t obsess.
But you certainly never do obsess online. You should never share advice like this with someone that you think you know online.
However, if you know someone truly well in real life and you find them in such a circumstance you might consider sharing this advice with them. It was shared with me, by a professional, and it did me a great deal of good. I’ve shared it with others and with similar results. On the other hand…
If you violate this principle, and commit what folks in Jewish culture call a Shanda, fall outside the community standards and become an outcast (although in this instance I think I may be overstating the case a bit; something of a life-long habit, I admit, but that in itself may be a Shanda; however I believe I’d be forgiven more than if I committed the other Shanda…still, where was I? I need to stay focused, don’t I, because this is a far more serious subject, isn’t it? More on that in a few moments…).
Anyway… As I said, people deal with their grief in different ways. Some would rather withdraw in their moments of grief or do so for a period of time. Others either immediately or after that period of time would prefer to go public and discuss that grief and, of course, when they do, nice people show their sympathy unless they are total assholes. This is a good thing, as Martha says.
There’s an old saying, however: How much of a good thing can you take? My therapist suggested that too much of a good thing was too much and the two words of advice he gave me were “Shut Up.”
I was creating an echo chamber. I was bringing my grief up in public too much, too often. People were feeling compelled to respond with “I’m sorry” and go on in that fashion on and on forever. It was like creating a non-combustible theater of grief with daily and nightly shows, free of charge with everyone invited to attend. Some in the audience had also experienced grief, naturally, and were more than willing to share their own theatrics. So now it became a veritable cavalcade of grief.
This was unhealthy, becoming ever more so. So he told me, ultimately, “Shut UP,” and make it stop. And he understood that only this theater would stop. The grief itself? That was never going to stop. It hasn’t. The grief itself does not stop. It shouldn’t.
Some make what they presume is some kind of “career” out of putting their grief on display by writing it down in broken lines so they can call it “poetry” and having everyone tell them how fascinated they are by it. Several times a week. Week after week. Year after year.
I am not a religious person. I am a spiritual person as they say. Most religions, however, have regular rituals, holidays, for the public expression of grief, which allow everyone their “day” of grief. One day and then this grief is yours again. Yours alone. Everyone knows that one day especially in those places where religion is something of a “national thing.” You know, like Día de los Muertos or Halloween before we started burning witches.
The remainder of the year you get to keep it to yourself, yourself and your family in many cases. Because grief is solely between you and the memory of the person you’ve lost; a private and very final memory; possibly not a happy memory, but still a memory between you and that person alone. Not a bunch of other people, not a bunch of friends and certainly not a bunch of strangers. Just you and that person.
Sometimes you and yourself.
Grief is not a thing for public display and certainly not beyond a certain limited amount of time. Perhaps one day a year and nothing more.
So, have your day. And what religion do we have in the secular West for such a thing?
I don’t know, but if I had to guess—if I had a personal choice?—I’d say it was comedy.
Because, you see, we don’t have a one-off religion in the secular West (other than politics, of course, and that’s no fun). We have television (and that’s no fun because it’s too…too…what’s the word I’m looking for? There are so many… I don’t know…).
We have sports, only that creates more arguments than politics. So, what’s left?
Personally, I’ve turned to comedy most of my life. It has been the best religion I’ve located. Humor seems to be the best general practice and direction towards all things not of this world. I wouldn’t go any further in that regard, here, now, especially not in the matter of grief because it isn’t my place.
For myself, in private, I practice that particular religion quite more than once a year, and not only in terms of grief. I like to laugh in the face of all the gods who think they can take things away from me.
And I really don’t need anyone’s approval when I do so. Not even yours.

“Art is a lie that tells the truth.” — Picasso
We all tell lies.
Hopefully over the course of time small ones. We convince ourselves that the lies we tell are good ones in a good cause. When not, we live with the guilt over the not-so-good ones. And then we hide from the shame of other lies.
But we all lie. It is part of the human construct.
Only saints do not lie, and saints of course are not human. They have those halos around their heads. You can see them as they float down the street.
Part of achieving a balanced and happy life is coming to terms with what it means being an actual human person, being balanced. For example, not lying about the fact that people lie and that you are, in the end, one of those people.
Many of us consider ourselves one way or another artists or attempting to be artists or on some sort of creative path. This is a good thing. Not only good for us but good for everyone else. But we have to come to terms with what creativity entails. Because art is by it very essence artifice and artifice is a lie.
Artifice requires a distinction from fact by its very nature and everything that is distinct from fact is by definition a lie.
If we look at the history of human creativity, we see that it is all based in some way upon something either dishonest or destructive even when not intentional. Something noble may be achieved, some truth may be revealed. It is still a lie.
As human beings, particularly as creative human beings, we have to come to terms with these realities. We have to move forward with an understanding of this knowledge without denying it. We cannot deny the reality of our human situation.
We always take steps forward and steps backward. It is a delicate balance and something of a dance when we create. And that perhaps we need to understand this dance is something we do not do alone. We must all work together, not only in the present, but across the ages in some type of partnership, to create something better.
A fried of mine who writes and deserves a great deal of credit for what he has done; who has given an opportunity to many dozens of people to freely express themselves—an opportunity that others would quickly deny—suffers mightily on occasion from self-doubt and self-criticism when it comes to his own work.
He expressed this doubt in public the other day precisely on this subject of being a creative and having to “embellish” his work. In other words, having to “lie.”
People responded over and over, saying that they “never lie” and they were “always honest” when they wrote.
What nonsense. What lies. And how they were taking this poor man (who in many instances had given them the opportunity to express themselves) now in pain on the ground, and kicking him in the face. With their lies.
This is not a fruitful way forward. Not a way to join hands and look for the peace and cooperative state we creatives should be seeking. We need to admit our human frailties in order not only to help each other but to help ourselves and to move forward.
Because all of art, all of creativity is artifice and all of artifice is a lie. And when we doubt ourselves, we need to join hands over our doubts about what we are doing.
As I said to my comrade then, ask Jackson Pollock or Mark Rothko if they are lying. Ask the great poets or comedians if they are lying. Ask those whose memories fail them if they are lying. Are we to lose the stories they tell as well?
No, I’m sorry, saying someone is named “Shelly” instead of “Kenny” is not a lie. It is an insignificant fact. Because we are not in a court of law. Saying we went to a bar on “Oak Street” instead of “Maple Street” is not going to cause society to crumble. The world does not spin on an axis we have created.
He worried specifically in regard to this matter of writing about himself, as many people do. When we write about ourselves, we are doing a service for others. If we are not doing a service for others, we keep what we write to ourselves. Yes, we may have a circle of friends among whom we share stories of our lives. It can be a healthy thing, a therapeutic thing.
But when we do this, particularly for exposure or money, and make claims about “honesty,” and beat our brows about it in public — perhaps also for exposure or money — then we are lying.
But we are doing a service. We are creating art.
Artists work hard studying themselves in private, making self-portraits. Then they work hard studying other objects, working on other things that have nothing to do with themselves, developing habits of observation.
And in this study, they develop habits of observation, means to a language that allows them to communicate, even as they return to self-portraits, through which they can communicate to their audience, their readers, a means of conveying the ideas they are speaking OF and ABOUT their audience and their world and not merely to them about themselves.
So that what they say can never be a lie, because what they are communicating is an idea and a truth, and the facts hardly ever matter at all…in the end, like the colors or shapes on a canvas hardly matter at all in the end.
What matters is what they communicate and what YOU see and feel.
Because they are not writing a business prospectus or a legal draft. And unless they are writing yet another “how-to” manual… And you are expecting some facts about how to live your life step-by-step, perhaps you are expecting more than you should.

I had a reader the other day leave a review and say he returned a free Kindle. Can you do that? I don’t think you can… LIAR!!!
Listen. I don’t knock what other people do. They want to write in a manner that always places a round peg in a round hole… That’s their business and good for them. Always a round box somewhere for them.
But I want to do things my way. And often my way is to toss out a slew of seemingly implausible hilarities surrounded by occasional outbursts of raw profundity. All under the guise of a mystery thriller that runs on in a serial fashion.
To what end? Who knows. I don’t. Yet. Maybe.
So… Some readers want to know everything that happens in the first few pages? Since when? What is this? Yankees baseball, 2022? Boring!
Are you a boring person and a boring reader? Okay, don’t read my books. My loss. Have a nice life. Go return a Kindle Unlimited why don’t you?
Take a look at the readers who say “Take your time and you’ll…” Well, look at what THEY say.
Oh! You don’t read Latin? Tell you what. Neither do I. But… You know what I have? A computer. And an Android. And fingers. And a brain. And when I find something I don’t know…
So… I don’t sweat complications. I don’t ask everyone to EXPLAIN IT TO ME. And make the book 1000 pages longer than it has to be (so that Amazon can chop down the Amazon and CHARGE YOU a GAZILLION DOLLARS for the privilege while the Earth fries to fries).
Please. I’m not particularly enthralled with the Evil Empire of Google, but learn how to use DuckDuckGo or something, okay?
Life is short. Isn’t that what everyone says? So enjoy it! Stop complaining so much. Take your time with stuff and you never know what might, you know, pop up.
Ooopsie!!

You know that at some point Marvel Studios is going to bring back Hydra.
They have to. They keep running out of ideas. That’s why they keep bringing back Thanos. And turning back to “magic” instead of science and technology.
But… Who am I to complain? If you’ve been reading me I haven’t had a really new idea since 2015, right?
But who has? And why should they?
Has Nature had any new ideas lately? What is the point of “NEW”?
If you love genre fiction, as so many readers do, you don’t actually want anything NEW, do you? You’ve been trained to want the same thing over and over. And the market has been designed to deliver it to you. Authors have been taught—books are written; classes and workshops designed exclusively for the purpose—to specifically deliver what you want in the particular genre AND sub-genre you love to read...AND BUY. Formulas are created around classic “beats” so that you can consciously or unconsciously predict what is going to happen next and have those expectations met.
Success. Predictability. Everything falling into neatly predetermined boxes.
So be it. This is our system and it has worked this way, in essence, since the history of storytelling began.
Except… Until the birth of the modern marketplace.
Perhaps you love Cozy Mysteries. There’s a box for you. Or Historical Romance. There’s a box. Spy Thriller? You’ve got a box.
But what if a writer comes along who fills all those boxes at once? Is there a box for her?
No.
The market doesn’t care if her work is good or bad. Only if there’s a box for her. No box? No sale.
You will never get to see her book. Never know what’s there.
Is she doing something new? Perhaps. You’ll never know. The marketplace doesn’t particularly care for new.
The market likes to label something as “NEW” even when it isn’t really “NEW” just to drum up excitement for sales. Then they bury what might actually be NEW by keeping it from coming to the surface.
Not because they don’t want anyone to see it. Because they don’t think anyone wants to see it.
They don’t’ believe it will sell.
They truly believe that only the OLD will sell. Tried and true, as the saying goes. What sold well yesterday will sell well tomorrow. So they keep selling it.
Often they will sell something quite—sorry—bad as if it were still marketable simply because it fits in the right box. Success! Doing this while KNOWINGLY—acknowledging it in writing—turning down far better material simply because they don’t believe it to be marketable.
Fortunately, authors have self-publishing available.
But even the world of self-publishing is dominated by the BOX mentality of the market. So readers are still guided directly and indirectly towards what is deemed “marketable” in the end.