Why There Is a Literary Zone

I consider myself an artist. But in most artistic endeavors, I am what you would call a Bad Artist.

I never learned how to play the guitar or the piano. I played the cymbals in my kindergarten band. However, I don’t know of any cymbalists who became famous as the Fab Four or even the Fab Liberace. About the only time I ever heard a cymbal in a rock song was at the end of the Moody Blues’ song “Nights in White Satin”.

When it comes to singing, I am known as the Screechy Frog. I belt out the scales like a scaly case of eczema.

My artistic “masterpieces” will not be shown at the Louvre or the National Gallery of Art. In fact, they are not as good as the paintings you see on the boys’ bathroom walls or the graffiti on railroad cars.

I did a little acting in junior high school. But I knew I would not be the next Marlon Brando or a ham like Porky Pig. Besides, I don’t have a Hollywood face.

I think I tried sculpture once, but the only thing I created was a mess. I like to dance, but I boogie more like Fred Flinstone than Fred Astaire.

But there is one artistic endeavor I do well—writing.

In junior high school, I remember writing a story about a man encountering a snake in the desert. I was pleasantly flabbergasted when my teacher told my classmates the plot of this tale in great detail. Then she castigated me for not writing the story correctly.

In high school, my English teacher loved my story about my tricycle. Later, I was the news editor of the school paper and won a creative writing award.

Because I was a history major in college, I spent umpteen hours banging out research papers on subjects ranging from electric power to central Illinoisans at the Battle of Bull Run to Austro-Hungarian diplomacy in World War I. My senior thesis on the Illinois state legislature in 1958 and 1959 won the best essay prize.

I had a lot of fun presenting a research paper at the Society of American Baseball Research conference in Louisville in 1997. In 2011, I began blogging, and I still love it, man.

Now you know I have a literary zone. I enjoy having an artistic space. And writing is like my golf game—there is always room for a hacker to practice and improve his craft.

Thought From This Blog

The difference between good art and bad art is in the eye of the beholder.

I’M BACK!

Guess who’s back after a long, long hiatus? It’s me, the blogger known as Ordinary Joe!

While my other blog, The Cubby Writers Cubbyhole, is a place for fun and good times without free beer, ice cream, pretzels, and ecdysiasts (fancy word for people who shimmy in the red-light districts) The Glynn Literary Zone is different. Occasionally, I will write on a serious subject that interests me, though I might have a good laugh or two.

Too often in the blogosphere as well as on social media, people have become jerks, loudmouths, Karens, gasbags, and complete A-holes. I will try to write as diplomatically as I possibly can, even though at times I can be the biggest jerk, loudmouth, etc.

Don’t take my opinions too seriously. Sometimes, I disagree with myself a couple of minutes after I write something down on my trusty personal computer. I will be the first to admit that my words are not the greatest words of wisdom since Socrates. I just write ’em like I see ’em.

If you want to get important news from this corner of the literary galaxy, The Glynn Literary Zone is the place to be. Call me a blockhead, but I am just as interested as getting my literary efforts in print as in making some of that filthy green stuff. Of course, I would like to be a best-selling author like Stephen King or John Grisham and make more money than Jeff Bezos. However, I know it is tough for writers to make a buck, and I will be content if I become just one of those hack gentlemanly writers.

When I was a kiddo back in the 1970s (kids, that was back in the days with no Internet, Netflix, smartphones, and TikTok, Heck, it was the days when there was no MTV but people wore polyester leisure suits, had Pet Rocks, did the hustle, and thought The Love Boat was must see TV), I religiously watched Welcome Back, Kotter. I laughed at the antics of Vinnie Barbarino, Juan Epstein, and Arnold Horshack.

Now, it is welcome back to my literary zone, welcome back.

A Thought From the Blog

Don’t think too often.