Showing posts with label Writer I Admire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writer I Admire. Show all posts

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Mark Hunter, A Unique and Humourous Writer I Admire

I would like to introduce to you, a unique, and wonderfully humourous writer.  His name is Mark Hunter, and he will be my guest blogger for today.  Rather than do interview questions, I like just having the writers, themselves, take over the guest post to say all they want to say.  And it is my pleasure, to have Mark hunter, here, today.  Here’s what he wants to tell you all:

I’ve been writing since I was old enough to know there was such a thing as words.  Fiction in the genres of fantasy, young adult, science fiction, romance, humor, action/adventure, and some that defied pigeonholing.  Newspaper articles, public information releases, features, and for over twenty years a humor column.
And yet, I almost failed English my sophomore year of high school … because of poetry.
My sophomore English teacher was a young lady early in her career, who took it into her head that we all needed to appreciate poetry. (My junior English teacher was the daughter of famous science fiction writer E.E. “Doc” Smith, but that’s another story.)
I didn’t appreciate poetry. In fact, I wanted nothing to do with it. When she assigned a major poetry project for the year, I groaned inwardly and did what I do best when faced with unwanted jobs: procrastinated.
The result was a few quick and dirty rhymes in no particular poetry form jotted down just before the due date, including an overly cute rhyming apology for not getting it all done. I squeaked by that year with a C minus, and that only because I turned in several short stories for extra credit – the same short stories I was writing in the back row, when I should have been listening to the teacher.
Since then, as my gracious blog tour host April will tell you, I’ve come to appreciate poetry. I even took a stab at it myself, and if I do say so myself I’m not terrible. Not great, but still … it’s an improvement compared to bending over a notebook at three a.m. before the due date, desperately trying to rhyme something with “orange”.
Poetry requires a great deal of effort for me, and the result tends to be simplistic (I assume. What do I know from good poetry?). Since it’s both more time consuming and harder than prose, I don’t mess with it often. But April is the poet laureate of my writing friends, so when she offered to host a guest blog for me, I figured the least I could do was take a shot at it. So here is … something. I’ll figure it out as I go along.

The writing life! It seems so great
that many never hesitate
to try it out, by hook or crook,
‘cause “Anyone can write a book!”

They picture lives of leisure ease;
of doing anything they please.
A life of celebrating cashed checks
with pipes and wine, black turtlenecks.

That writer’s image everyone knows
From surely accurate TV shows.
So they sit down, these wannabes,
thinking it will be a breeze.

And there they sit, with sudden thought
that now they must invent a plot,
and characters, something to sell,
and what the heck is “show, don’t tell?”

Their mind is blank, their cupboard bare;
their writing dream becomes nightmare.
Are prologues bad? What’s info dump?
Will sex scenes get a good sales bump?

And if, somehow, the writer copes,
and types “the end” on their great hopes,
what happens then? Does that mean this
will magically land on the best-sell list?

An agent hunt or a publisher search?
A self-publish path to best-seller’s perch?
They want me to write an outline now?
A thousand pages to synopsis – how?

A year to publish – no advance!
Publicity is left to chance,
and after all the work, this sin:
My life’s work in a remainder bin.

Maybe it’s not what they say it is,
this supposedly glamorous writing biz.
If regular, easy pay’s for you …
There’s always Wal-Mart, or drive-through.


Mark Hunter’s first novel, Storm Chaser, was published in June, 2011 by Whiskey Creek Press. WCP also published his collection of short stories based on the same characters, Storm Chaser Shorts, in June, 2012. Mark also appears in My Funny Valentine, a humor collection by various writers and artists.
In addition to his full time job as a Noble County Sheriff’s Department dispatcher, Mark is a newspaper writer whose humor column is carried in three local newspapers; a 30 year veteran volunteer firefighter; and a volunteer writer for a few local non-profits. When asked if there’s any stress in his life he laughs hysterically.
Mark can be reached through his website, www.markrhunter.com, where you can also order print and e-book copies of his works.  Below are pictures of Mark Hunter, and of his book covers of his books he has written.




Mark, thank you for posting, here, today.  By the way, I loved your poem.  Just awesome of poem.  It was an honour to have you here, today.  Thank you.
April Morone

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Showcasing a poem by a writer I admire

As those of you who have been following my blog know, I have been writing about writers I admire. And today, I just had to post not about a writer I admire this time, but to post a poem by a writer I Admire with whom I'd done a guest blog and about whom I'd already written within this blog. The poem is titled "Revengeful Panther," and it's by a writer I admire named Lena Winfrey Seder. Her poem is amasing, as is its title that is perfectly fitting with the subject of the poem, plus it expresses as though from the eyes of an abusive person, in affect, making this poem a wonderful tool in helping raise awareness about domestic abuse and about how an abusive person can think and be. This poem is below:

REVENGEFUL PANTHER



The black panther awaits deep in the dark forest.

Watching quietly to catch prey that is too bold,

He hates his disgraceful acts, but can find no rest.

Life’s experiences have made him old.

He skillfully sharpens his claws, his best defense.

Striking out at the world in desired revenge.

Around his ice-cold heart remains a barbed-wire fence.

Frightening others with mean looks that make them cringe,

Teeth grinding and heart aching from flames as he waits.

What or who does he wait for? He doesn’t even know.

He tries to avoid others’ jagged traps and baits.

Playing this chess game and escaping Cupid’s bow,

Afraid of love, he only thinks of survival.

The smiling mask he wears hides his salty tears.

He received scars before from a former rival.

Pain, never forgotten, carried through all the years.

Revenge, his bitter-sweet passion, stabs like a knife.

When will he forgive to start a happy new life?