Browsing through two hundred and fifty pages of Velocity reveals that very little is usable and for that I’m thankful.

Why? Because reviewing the manuscript reminds me how crucial the revision component is. Until I have a few more books under my belt and refine my personal “formula” the one in ten rule applies. Basically, that rule states that for every ten pages of a manuscript - one page survives in the finished draft.

Example: of the three writing days this week so far, six out of thirty-five written or revised pages are solid. Do they tell you that in a writing course?

So this week I relearned that when in doubt about a writing impasse, write some more. Taking hostages, jumping off bridges or drinking like Hemingway will not solve writing problems. Although, of the three options, drinking has some merit.

The query process starts anew on Friday. And that’s all I have to say about that there writing stuff.

Since Buddhapuss is facing a backlog of letters and I missed yesterday’s blog (oops), here’s a double helping of Ask Buddhapuss.

Dear Buddhapuss,
You are such a nice kitty. Want to live here?
Edwin

Dear Edwin,
Thanks very much for the kind words and offers for lodging. Though sam’s antics torture me at times - he’s a bit stingy with the sushi, won’t let me order pizza on the Internet etc – for now my home is with my apprentice Electra. Also, someone has to prop up this writer in progress. Excuse me, sam is trying to nap. I must remind him that is my job.
Yours in pats,
Master Buddhapuss

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Dear Buddhapuss,
Exactly where do you get your high intelligence from? I mean, I knew cats were smart and all, but you’re… too smart to put into words. Smart and wise. I want to be just like you when I grow up: four legs, a lot of hair, beady little eyes. yeah. so how did you come to be so smart master?
Dale from CA

Dear Dale,

As I told sam back in May, let Buddhapuss do the thinking and the readers will come. Thanks for your compliments. It is true, words can not describe my intelligence – but I do like how you described it “too smart to put into words”. What exquisite music that phrase is to my pointy ears. Someday sam will learn to appreciate me for the twenty one pounds of black furry Zen love that I am.

As to your question about why I am so smart, the secret is this - mix brain food, focused mental activity with lots of naps. Follow that formula and you to will be on the way to Enlightenment.

I must inform you however, no matter how intense your focus, you will never have 4 legs and thick fur on 99 percent of your body. This cruel dilemma is the greatest tragedy facing the human species today. Keep the faith though, you can be a cat Zen master in spirit.

Yours in Pats,
Master Buddhapuss

I’m in the middle of an affair and The Wife knows about every last sundry detail. Rather than cast me to the wolves, The Wife basks in the glow of amour, because she shares my love.

Before you dial up divorce court and Jerry Springer, let me explain. On the 19th we fled New Jersey seeking excitement and relaxation. Two minutes past the New Hampshire border and Maine was all I could talk about. It was pure lust and every minute, magical.

Maine is a fantastic place oozing with friendly people, tasteful homes, pristine coastlines and marvelous sprawling woods. But wait, there’s more! Maine, unlike New Jersey, also believes there is a United States Constitution and Bill of Rights that applies to its citizens. Sweet.

The purpose of the excursion was three fold. First, to enjoy our annual vacation. Second, to sail the Penobscot bay aboard the Victory Chimes. And third, to see a good friend from the Old Country ( Syracuse, NY ) marry the love of his life. As good as they look together, being around them feels twice as good. They are a great couple - both from great families - and I’m proud to know them. Their wedding ( itself a study in perfection ) was the icing on the cake - a fantastic ending to a vacation.

Later this week I’ll post a play by play of the trip. In the meantime, enjoy the new gallery, poll and picture of the week. Have a comment? Use the brand new comments feature to sound off!

The Wife’s long running campaign for a vacation is a success - tomorrow we depart for an excursion.

samhilliard.com returns on September 27th, 2004 with a slew of enhancements including:

1) Comments. Yes, let your voice ring! Think a blog rocks? Think it sucks? Now you can say so in your own words.
2) Gallery. Five albums worth! Pictures of the cast and a play by play of the secret vacation.
3) Poll. A new poll, courtesy of Pollster. Pollster, if you’re reading this can you send one along please? Thanks! You rule
4) Picture of the week
5) Master Buddhapuss

In the meantime, if you haven’t subscribed to a mailing list, consider it. What’s in the subscription for you?
1) Good karma
2) Access to the comments feature
3) Access to download a short story ( coming soon! )
4) Notification when samhilliard.com returns and other announcements
5) A chance to win an Ask Master Buddhapuss t-shirt. What could be cooler?

Also side point – there’s an Ask Buddhapuss backlog and that’s a good thing. Have faith. The cat will get to your question.

The query letter is a worthy foe, but a critical part of the writing process. Initially the negative responses bothered me, but at this point I’m damn near impervious. Rejections get stuffed in a little drawer and then I query some more. Thank you, come again.

There are websites where the writers post scans of the rejection letters, but that’s no way to get a manuscript published. Besides smacking of a bruised ego, it reeks of the desire to have the last word in an argument that never was. Besides, does an editor or agent really want to deal with a writer who posts private communication on the Internet?

So my strategy is this:

1) Writing, writing and then more writing
2) Querying about completed writing projects

So it’s down to the wire and the only topic so far is no blog topic at all and The Wife’s cat is licking peanut butter off my spoon as I type. Now there’s a lead-in. Query to self - does Seinfeld have days like this?

This is the second day with no official writing projects and it’s hell. Cranking out 4-5 pages a session for the last 2 years provided a lot of focus to my writing. Vacations are fine and all, but I need to write. This is the biggest conflict and the one I wrestle with the most frequently at times I don’t like to write, yet I must. Let me repeat that since it sounds important � at times I don’t like to write, yet I must.

I’m suspicious of people who say they love writing. I love words. I love reading. I love reading other people’s words, but to love my own words strikes me as a crippling sort of vanity. Instead, every so often I write something that I like. Sort of.

Writing resembles raising a child in the same way that there is no controlling a child. Children behave based on the examples their parental figures provide. Hopefully every role model sets a good example, but if a kid wants to stick their finger in the electric socket or throw a ball in the house, the kid will win that argument. To write may appear easier than reigning in a child, because it seems that the author has control over the finished product, the control that a parent lacks. After all, writers focus x hours per day, 5 or more days a week for the purpose of perfecting a manuscript. Children don’t come with copy paste and multiple undos, do they?

But the control the writer brandishes is an illusion. I have no control over what comes out when I write, revise and revise again. The only control is the choice to sit down and take the chance on the process or not. And it’s a process that never ends.

Checking my watch, I see I have 5 minutes left on my blog a day deadline

This is an older letter Buddhapuss tabled till today.

Hello,

I saw a T-shirt about you. Who are you? And are you special?

Signed by Not Signing

Dear Not Signing aka Clueless,

Ah, where to start - with your ignorance or your insolence? Excuse me while I smooth down my fur. *ponders* Yes, ignorance wins!

Who am I? Who am I? I’m Buddhapuss, Zen Master. Not sir, not sire, not anonymous. I’m a bona fide certified student of all things Zen. Consider yourself lucky that I’m big enough to forgo the temptation of ego, or you’d be under six feet of kitty litter. And not dry kitty litter.

As for your insolence, Clueless I am special in the same way you are special, as every living thing is a special and unique snowflake…oh what is this – there’s a knocking on my door and sam is answering to reveal a delivery man carrying a large flat pouch. Uh oh, sam is mad. An argument is in progress at the door…at any moment the risk could force me into hiding but that I shall stick with this development for as long as possible. Oh no! Sam is wrestling the keyboard from my paws.

Sam: Who ordered sushi pizza?
Buddhapuss( looks cute at the keyboard ): Meow?
Sam: Did you have to order three?
Buddhapuss( rolls around on keyboard ): Meow. Meow.
Sam: No more Internet for you this week.
Buddhapuss( flops on top of the desk )
Sam: And let go of the mouse!

So, there you have it, Clueless. I am a twenty one pound Zen Master with fur covering 99 percent of my body and I know how to order pizza on the Internet. That special enough for you?

Yours in Pats,
Buddhapuss