Angus Brownfield

Write what you know. I know me and I'm talking to you, reader, in the first person, not the anonymous third person, because when I write I write about me and the world that thrives around me.
I wrote decent poetry in college, I couldn’t get the hang of short stories. I finished my first novel so many years ago writers were still sending their works to publishers instead of agents. My first novel was rejected by everyone I sent it to. The most useful rejection, by a Miss Kelly at Little, Brown, said something like this: “You write beautifully, but you don’t know how to tell a story.” Since then I've concentrated on learning to tell a good story. The writing isn’t quite so beautiful but it will do.
Life intervened. Like the typical Berkeley graduate, I went through five careers and three marriages. Since the last I've been writing like there’s no tomorrow. I have turned out twelve novels, a smattering of short stories and a little poetry. My latest novel is the third in a series about a man who is not my alter ego, he’s pure fiction, but everyone he interacts with, including the women, are me. My title for this trilogy is The Libertine.
Writers who have influenced me include Thomas Mann, Elmore Leonard, Albert Camus, Graham Greene, Kurt Vonnegut and Willa Cather. I don’t write like any of them, but I wish I did.
I'm currently gearing up to pay attention to marketing. Archery isn’t complete if there’s no target. I've neglected readers because I've been compulsive about putting words down on paper.
Today the balance shifts.

Website: http://www.the-written-angus.com
Facebook: Facebook profile
Blog: http://www.the-written-angus.com

adolecence    adulthood    adventure    advice    affair of the heart    aging    ancient history    angels    animal    animal fable    animal stories    animals    antiquity    art    ashland oregon    assassin    autumn    bad timing    bigamy    bird    blame    border crossing    brothel    bureaucracy    chutzpah    coming of age    comingofage    compassion    compulsion    computers    con job    conflict    conundrum    creation tale    creativity    crime solving    crossdressing    customs    danger    death    deception    dementia    demons    detection techniques    detective duo    dilemma    dog    dramatic situations    drinking    duty    economic warfare    eerie phenomena    enslavement    escaping responsibility    etiquette    evocative    existential    expiation    fable    family ordeal    fantasy    fast one    foreign travel    fran lebowitz    fratricide    free verse    friendship    frightening experience    fundamentalist lds    futility    genetics    genius    good deed    good vs evil    greed    guilt    guilt and secrets    gun on stage    gunfight    gunslinger    haiku    homelessness    homicide    honor    humor    incipient danger    interspecies communication    interview    irony    jazz    kept woman    kidnap    loneliness    love    love beyond death    love story    lust    lyric    magic    mania    matrimony    maturation    metaphysics    mexican setting    mexico    mindlessness    mood piece    moral choices    moral dilemma    moral scruples    muscle car    mystery    myth and fable    nature    new cosmology    perfection    peril    poetry    poetry about love    poetry short    polygamy    prostitution    psychiatric labeling    psychological slight of hand    quest    redemption    rejection    relationships    reprisal    rescue    rescuing    retribution    revolution    romance    romance adult    rude awakening    sacrifice    san francisco    satire    saving the world    science and culture    science fiction    self discovery    selfdetermination    selfesteem    short story    souls in peril    spies    spring    st patricks day    story telling    strong female characters    summer    suspense    theater    tombstone    urban fantasy    weird experience    whimsical    wiley coyote    winter    wishful thinking    writing    wyatt earp    youth versus age   

• 'Twas the Night Before Solstice (Southern Oregon Style) on Dec. 10, 2011
  
  My grandmother, Della, would have understood but little of this raucous poem. What she understood would have wrung an 'oh my' from her Southern Baptist lips. What's wrung from my lips is, "Dang, why didn't I think of that?" This could bring a cult following in Humboldt and Mendocino Counties, where Kris no doubt got his original supply. Keep it up, Celeste, let's have a poem about Father Time and one about the Easter Bunny. Angus Brownfield