NEW YORK STATE OF MIND

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NEW YORK STATE OF MIND

I just got back from New York City!

And that’s what’s popping!!

The first day in Manhattan, I took a meeting with my amazing literary agent, The wonderful Joyce Keating at JRK Literary.
We spoke of the agency’s progress in attempting to get traditional publishers to read:
The Santa Claus Killer.
Thus far, the power brokers have taken a pass on the manuscript, based solely on the synopsis… o ne such individual… even went on to state the book was:
TOO COMMERCIAL!

Go figure THAT out, right? WHAT THE HECK ??????? It may sell TOO many copies? GOD ALMIGHTY… Heaven forbid!! Seriously? NOT long after, another house rejected the premise stating the story wasn’t commercial enough… all this without having read the script.

Some merely passed on it based entirely on the title.

People keep saying : “You’re the new Stephen King” – WOW!!

HOW WILL ANYONE KNOW…

If the MANUSCRIPTS don’t get reviewed?

I, of course… am blown away by such statements of faith and honor.
Stephen King, Sidney Sheldon and Elmore Leonard… those men were my boyhood idols.
MY AGENT SAYS:
“It’s just a matter of time…
once a publisher reads the book…
they’ll take a chance.”

A FAN TOLD ME: “YOU have the potential to be a New York Times best-selling author, RJ.” HA HA !

They know how to tickle me.

“Santa Claus Killer” is the next big thing my friend Steve recently chimed in his two cents.

“It’s not a matter of IF you get published … but WHEN,” my buddy Kai insists when we speak of the prospects.

After the literary meeting with Joyce, I was feeling my oats, so out I climbed onto the subway and hiked it up to the Bronx to watch my favorite baseball team kick some Oakland hindquarters.

Ah, the Yankees. I know, I know… go ahead and boo me, I ‘ll wait…. Even I didn’t expect them to get butchered by the Oakland A’s. Shit happens, and then you die, that’s what I hear….

There’s nothing quite like the Bronx Bombers.

The call of SAFE at home plate…t he scent of hot dogs and peanuts drifting on the breeze.

Then, the voices singing “Take Me Out To The Ball Game” and the sight of the fans covering their hearts and saluting the ones who risk their lives on another kind of field.

That feeling of love was palpable, it was there… Pumping through the crowd like an unwavering heart.

WE were ONE, on that summer day. B eneath the NERVOUS smiles and yelps of JOY, the fans and players shared something.

We were Yankees who felt for THE PAIN of Boston.

And yes, we all sang SWEET CAROLINE!

Later, I WAS OFF TO Times Square, where Forrest GUMP still ran for all he had… and emptied my wallet of its worn greenbacks. There I was, just off Broadway… a hop and a skip from the Foxwood Theater where “Spiderman – Turn Off The Dark” would later raise a huge ROUND of applause.
Over the next five days I did lots of things in Manhattan, met with film producers, dined in the fabulous restaurants, and even met a
few new friends at the Yankee Game… here is a shout-out to Ralph Perritano, and his girl, Kim.
It was magical.
I strolled The Great White Way, Chinatown… and then marched through the 911 Memorial where I watched the re-builders place the spire atop One World Trade Center. That made this trip a part of history, standing there… glaring up with pride at the tallest structure in the western hemisphere.
That’s how we roll in the US of A!

Hooah!

God Bless America!
If I were seventeen again, I’d storm into the recruiting station and offer my red, white and blue blooded body for service to our great nation.

There are a lot of heroes in life, from every path we travel in a dangerous world. The soldiers should be granted every luxury this country has to offer. As for this writer, I honor their path and bow with
RESPECT.

GO UNITED STATES MILITARY!

Of course, this was New York CITY and I was BUSY breathing it all in. It is the city where I grew into adulthood and the streets… well, that’s where I found my footing.

This METROPOLIS lives within MY heart, its stench… the aromas… they fill my heaving lungs… I LONG for the life here, crave the sound of honking yellow cab horns, the rumbling subway in my ears. The bodegas, the Upper West Side, Midtown… and the Village.

THIS IS NEW YORK!!

It is the life…. and it calls to me. I am Manhattan, and it is me! Being a good Irish boy, there was no way I would miss out on visiting my favorite Irish Pub.PADDY RILEY’S (which is featured in my first novel THE SANTA CLAUS KILLER) was my destination.

So there I was… kicking back, with a Guinness. That dark bitter taste, the creamy froth… there’s a story or two in the bottom of the glass, beneath that dark brew I know shall speak to me forevermore.
IT WAS A GOOD WEEK.
Now, I have to let the universe work its magic.

I got in a lot of meetings, but now I must return to the current book (CATACLYSM) and let Joyce do her thing.

I am ready for everything to happen, prepared to give the world a glimpse of this gift I’ve been afforded. Fate’s been working at this moment forever. Now… its all in the details of how destiny unfolds. I am halfway finished writing the 100,000 word manuscript and will deliver it to the agency by November 15th.

ALL I can do is keep on trucking… NEVER look back, and hope that one day I receive the recognition I deserve as a WRITER. Everything else is up to the hand of fate…

THIS IS…

MY DESTINY.

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