The Book Doctors at Book Con breaking down presentation tipsas they explain how to pitch your book to get published.
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I was a preofessional white asshole on the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. Will Smith was awesome. Here’s the clip.
The Book Doctors interview amazing author Brad Parks. He has so many useful & fascinating things to say about how to become successfully published writer.
The Book Doctors break down exactly what you and make an awesome query letter, and how to customize your query for submission purposes only
A dad explains how to play it cool in front of your big crush
When donkeys attack!!!
My dad describes, as only a tightly wound Englishman can, how to have sex.
My daughter is a slacker. She lays around doing nothing while I work my ass off, so she can have cable, pink Uggs & American Girl dolls. I’m sick and tired of it, so I decided to lay down the law and teach her a lesson about hard work, sweat & sacrifice. Everything that makes America great!
Being young is the coolest thing there is. First installment from show about what today’s youth is thinking about.
My mini-documentary of my childhood hero, a great American legend who was a combination Mark Twain/Richard Prior & Michael Jordan: Leroy Satchel Paige, born July 7, 1901, then again in 1903, 1904, and finally in 1909.
When I was seven I fell under the spell of Leroy Satchel Paige. I don’t remember who he was playing for, or who he was pitching against, I only remember Satchel – ridiculously old, impossibly leanlanky, and sooooooo slooooooow as he jangles in from the bullpen with the bases loaded and two out.
As the crowd whips itself into a frothy frenzy, I’m hypnotized by this magical man, this cross between Ichabod Crane and Rip Van Winkle. Those long, loping, can’t start the game without me strides are comical, but they’re also majestic: King and Jester, Warrior and Clown, an ageless wonder of the world.
How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?
Well, by the time the Ol’ Satch actually reaches the mound and warms up, the whole stadium erupting all around him, the poor dumbfounded flummox of batter looks like a balloon with the air all leaked out of it.
Sure enough, Satch goes into his syncopated, whirly bird, interpretive dance, scatty jazzy be-bop of a wind-up, swinging out that long lean leg and easy as you please, his arm whipshotting a teeny tiny pea homeward, the whippersnapper batter freezes like a duck on a winter pond.
“STEEEEEE-RIKE!!!” screams the ump, as strike one caresses the paint on the outside of home plate lightly like a long lost lover.
Let the ball flow our of your hand like water.
“WAAAAAAAAHHHH!” the crowd wails.
“STEEEEEE-RIKE!!!” screams the ump as strike two strokes the inside of home.
“OHHHHHHHHHHHH!” goes the crowd.
Just take the ball and throw it, home plate don’t move.
Same wind-up, same whipshotting right arm, only this time the ball floats slow, slower, slowest, the snailiest change of pace I’ve ever seen: Uncle Tommy.
Uncle Tommy’s slow, but he gets there.
The hapless whippersnapper waves feeble before the ball even gets there, his Louisville Slugger transformed into an overcooked 33 ounce piece of linguini.
“WOO-HOOOOOO!” the crowd screams in full-throated roar, raining down thunderbolts of joy on Ol’ Satch as he saunters off with a doff of his cap.
We don’t stop playing because we get old, we get old because we stop playing.
Black and white, sons of Klansmen, and ancestors of slaves, all raised their voices as one with me, and I understood in a way I could not express at the time that Satchel had made us all color blind. And happy. From that minute on, he was my hero.
As I got older I discovered Satchel’s humor.
Age is a question of mind over matter, if you don’t mind, it don’t matter.
And his brilliance: Nolan Ryan holds the record for no-hitters with an extraordinary 7. Satch threw 55. Cy Young: 511 wins, Satchel, 1,934. Shut out the Red Sox for three innings. When he was 60. Or somewhere thereabouts. I memorized Satch’s 6 rules for staying young.
Avoid eating fried meats, they angry up the blood.
If your stomach disputes you, pacify it with cool thoughts.
Keep the juices flowing by jangling gently as you move.
Go very light on the vices such as carrying on in society, the social ramble ain’t restful.
Avoid the running at all times.
And of course, don’t look back, something might be gaining on you.
Baseball has turned me from a 2nd class citizen into a 2nd class immortal.
When I got to college and studied Socrates, I laughed when I read in his writing: “The wise man knows he knows nothing”, because it sounded exactly like Satch’s,
I don’t know anything.
And as I got older, I understood his humanity.
I is with you.
When I found out he was the highest paid athlete in America in 1945, I started to think about what it must have been like to be the Tiger Woods of your day, but not get to compete in any PGA events because you’re black. To have to watch from the sidelines as the best white players get riches and glory, while you’re denied your rightful place on the center stage of America. But they didn’t have Air Satchels back then. The NO COLORED ALLOWED sign was still hanging over the door.
I marvel at this man I idolized as a boy, and how he triumphed with such grace, humor, and dignity over decades of bigotry and intolerance.
Ain’t no man can avoid being born average, but there ain’t no man got to be common.
But nothing will ever match that tingly feeling of the six year-old boy moonstruck by that great artist of the diamond.
Satchel, I is with you.
T’ree Joizy Goils tawk about how dey gotta dumb dawtah, a dead dawg, & no cawfee
A depressed jester has a nervous breakdown
one of our favorite writers conferences in the whole world, pound for pound possibly the best, James River Writers Conference. If you want to learn about writing, if you want to meet writers and agents and publishers and have a great time, this is the conference for you.
CANADIAN BASED SEX TV DOES EXCELLENT IN-DEPTH INTERVIEW WITH ME ABOUT MY MEMOIR CHICKEN AND LIFE AS A TEENAGE HO
Chicken: Self-Portrait of a Young Man for Rent, Ten Year Anniversary Edition “Ten years ago, this debut memoir from Sterry burst upon the literary scene with an energy and inventiveness that captured his little-known subject matter—teenage life in Los Angeles as a rent boy working for a benevolent pimp named Sunny whose “rich, generous, horny friends,” Sterry explains, “pay good money to party with a boy like me.” Now back in print, Sterry’s memoir still crackles with its unsparingly honest approach: “I catch myself in the mirror, seventeen-year-old hardbody belly, pitprop legs, zero body fat, and huge hands. I’m seduced by the glitter of my own flesh.” Scenes from Sterry’s early dysfunctional family life not only add pathos to this tale of fall and resurrection but assure readers that he never sees himself as better than his clients, such as Dot, the wealthy 82-year-old, whose only desire is to experience cunnilingus for the first time—a desire that Sterry readily fulfills. “Even though I have no home and no family except for a bunch of prostitutes and a pimp, even though I have no future… at least I’m good at this.” (Oct.) – Publisher’s Weekly Find Chicken at your local independent bookstore: Indiebound Amazon “I walk all the way up Hollywood Boulevard to Grauman’s Chinese Theatre: past tourists snapping shots; wannabe starlets sparkling by in miniskirts with head shots in their hands and moondust in their eyes; rowdy cowboys drinking with drunken Indians; black businessmen bustling by briskly in crisp suits; ladies who do not lunch with nylons rolled up below the knee pushing shopping carts full of everything they own; Mustangs rubbing up against muscular Mercedes and Hell’s Angels hogs. It’s a sick twisted Wonderland, and I’m Alice.” This is the chronicle of a young man walking the razor-sharp line between painful innocence and the allure of the abyss. David Sterry was a wide-eyed son of 1970s suburbia, but within a week of enrolling at Immaculate Heart College, he was lured into the dark underbelly of the Hollywood flesh trade. Chicken has become a coming-of-age classic, and has been translated into ten languages. This ten-year anniversary edition has shocking new material. “Sterry writes with comic brio … [he] honed a vibrant outrageous writing style and turned out this studiously wild souvenir of a checkered past.” – Janet Maslin, The New York Times “This is a stunning book. Sterry’s prose fizzes like a firework. Every page crackles… A very easy, exciting book to read – as laconic as Dashiell Hammett, as viscerally hallucinogenic as Hunter S Thompson. Sex, violence, drugs, love, hate, and great writing all within a single wrapper. What more could you possibly ask for? -Maurince Newman, Irish Times “A beautiful book… a real work of literature.” – Vanessa Feltz, BBC “Insightful and funny… captures Hollywood beautifully” – Larry Mantle, Air Talk, NPR “Jawdropping… A carefully crafted piece of work…” -Benedicte Page, Book News, UK “A 1-night read. Should be mandatory reading for parents and kids.” -Bert Lee, Talk of the Town “Alternately sexy and terrifying, hysterical and weird, David Henry Sterry’s Chicken is a hot walk on the wild side of Hollywood’s fleshy underbelly. With lush prose and a flawless ear for the rhythms of the street, Sterry lays out a life lived on the edge in a coming-of-age classic that’s colorful, riveting, and strangely beautiful. David Henry Sterry is the real thing.” –Jerry Stahl, author of Permanent Midnight “Compulsively readable, visceral, and very funny. The author, a winningly honest companion, has taken us right into his head, moment-by-moment: rarely has the mentality of sex been so scrupulously observed and reproduced on paper. Granted, he had some amazingly bizarre experiences to draw upon; but as V. S. Pritchett observed, in memoirs you get no pints for living, the art is all that counts-and David Henry Sterry clearly possesses the storyteller’s art.” – Phillip Lopate, author of Portrait of My Body – Phillip Lopate, author of Portrait of My Body “Like an X-rated Boogie Nights narrated by a teenage Alice in Wonderland. Sterry’s anecdotes… expose Hollywood at its seamiest, a desperate city of smut and glitz. I read the book from cover to cover in one night, finally arriving at the black and white photo of the softly smiling former chicken turned memoirist.” -Places Magazine “Snappy and acutely observational writing… It’s a book filled with wit, some moments of slapstick, and of some severe poignancy… a flair for descriptive language… The human ability to be kind ultimately reveals itself, in a book which is dark, yet always upbeat and irreverent. A really good, and enlightening, read.” – Ian Beetlestone, Leeds Guide “Brutally illuminating and remarkably compassionate… a walk on the wild side which is alternatively exhilirating and horrifying, outrageous and tragic… Essential reading.” – Big Issue “Visceral, frank and compulsive reading.’ –City Life, Manchester “Sparkling prose… a triumph of the will.” -Buzz Magazine “Pick of the Week.” -Independent “Impossible to put down, even, no, especially when, the sky is falling…Vulnerable, tough, innocent and wise… A fast-paced jazzy writing style… a great read.” -Hallmemoirs “Full of truth, horror, and riotous humor.” -The Latest Books “His memoir is a super-readable roller coaster — the story of a young man who sees more of the sexual world in one year than most people ever do.” – Dr. Carol Queen, Spectator Magazine “Terrifically readable… Sterry’s an adventurer who happens to feel and think deeply. He’s written a thoroughly absorbing story sensitively and with great compassion… A page-turner… This is a strange story told easily and well.” – Eileen Berdon, Erotica.com “Love to see this book turned into a movie, Julianne Moore might like to play Sterry’s mum…” – by Iain Sharp The Sunday Star-Times, Auckland, New Zealand).
Conceived & performed by the dancer herself!
From HBO’s Encyclopedia
Naked TV interviews me about my life in The Life
A great piece of comedy.