Miami International Bookfair

Come join me, Preston L. Allen, at the Miami International Bookfair.

I will be reading at 10:00 a.m. on Saturday November 15 in room 7106-07 at the Wolfson Campus of Miami-Dade College (the downtown campus).

Hope to see you there.

Be there or be square.


Thanks,

Preston

Skill or Luck

Q: Is poker a game of skill or luck?

A: Easy answer: Poker is a game of skill.

Note that there are those who make a living playing it every day. It takes skill to be consistently a winner at anything.

Note that at the final table in every major tournament, the same dozen or so names show up again and again. Such a hierarchy of success implies skill, and skill implies that some are better at it than others. Luck creates no hierarchy of success.

Nevertheless, if you sit at any poker table long enough, you will hear the grumbling player: "My cards have gone cold. I haven't hit anything in 2 hours. My seat is bad. Boy, it would be nice to see a few good cards." This implies that a poker player only wins when he/she gets good cards. In other words, a player only wins if he/she is lucky.

Well, this may be true if you are a bad player. If you are a bad player, you need to be lucky to win. You need the right cards to fall your way.

Good players, on the other hand, win with skill. They study the other players at the table and strive to outplay them, out fox them, out think them. Sure, cards are important, but it is more important to know HOW to play those cards.

Here's another way to look at it.

Bad players pay to see cards--they are depending on lucky cards to come and help them win. They think this is what poker is all about.

More often than not, good players pay NOT to see cards. They are so much better than you that realistically the only thing that can beat them is luck--bad luck.

Thanks,

Preston

Looking for Magic

Q: How do you know when your book is done and you can send it to the publishers?

A: I used to know how to answer this question, and I think that I actually did on an earlier blog--but since I just finished my latest novel, whose title changes each time the sun rises--I am going to tell you that writing gives me a high, maybe not as great as gambling, but pretty dang close. Here's what happened.

I finished the book a couple weeks ago and started reading it for magic--now magic is what happens when you start making connections between the parts of what you have written, seeing echoes and allusions and themes that you hadn't planned but that are much truer and more real than the ones you had planned.

When this happens, I sit there and think, "Is there someone up there writing this book for me? Leading me to these connections? What is going on here? The book seems to be writing itself. This new idea is soooooo good--how come I didn't PLAN for this in the first place?"

Then when I look at other books and stories that I have written, I do a quick survey of those magical things that happened without my planning for them to have happened. They are usually the BEST parts of the story. In fact, they are the things that people remember most--and I stumbled upon them last. Thank god.

Now I don't want to explain away the rainbow, but I think what happens in my case is that when my stories are finally written down in a completed form on the page, I can begin to read them critically and objectively, and so my mind is actively, though subconsciously, seeking theme and mystical coincidence.

Theme is what the story is (consistently) about--the deep meaning as your high school teachers used to say.

Mystical coincidences are the most fun. They are those moments that resonate with other parts of the story and make you say, "Wow, that is so true," or "He got just what he deserved," or "Thank god she came to his rescue--I was hoping and praying that she would." They are like punchlines to jokes that you didn't know you were even telling. You set them up in the reader's mind, but if you don't go back and become a reader yourself, you, the writer of the story and their creator, more often than not won't even realize that they are there.

Sometimes it's in a name--you notice all the villains' names begin with H, but one of them begins with an M--change it to an H or make it an M for a reason that echoes.

Sometimes it's a color--It happened to me in the story "Crip" with the main character who wore the mustard color suit--AFTER I had written the story I discovered a way to make the color mustard echo long after the story had ended.

Sometimes it's a missing scene--in my latest novel, I realized that the hero and the villain had so much in common except one thing--a chance for someone other than himself to tell his side--I went back and inserted that scene--it is now, probably, the most poignant scene in the book.

Sometimes it's an incomplete resolution--a minor character in my novel ALL OR NOTHING appeared twice--I brought him back because he was interesting and also in order that he would be able to complete the minor little sub-story that I didn't realize he was telling--this minor character was the protagonist's son, the lucky son, and his reappearance MADE the book what it was meant to be. It would be a completey different novel without his evolution, which came in one of the magical moments AFTER the book was supposedly completed.

There are lots of things like that--and you must take time to find them.

Finding magic like that is the best part of writing a book. Finding magic like that often MAKES the book.

When I stop finding magic like that, then I know that it is time to send it off to the publisher.

Thanks,

Preston

Thank You, Your Book and Your Blog Saved My Life

Q: I don't really have a question to ask or anything. I just wanted to let you know that your book and your website saved my life.

Last year I was in debt up to my ears due to my gambling. I was in the process of losing my house, my wife, and seriously thinking of suicide. The gambling was so bad that I had to borrow to pay bills and necessities, but then I would end up blowing that money at the casinos. I was at least three months behind on everything including my mortgage.

I joined GA and started working on getting my life back together. I found a copy of your book in the bathroom at GA and asked the guy whose house we were having the meeting at if it was his. He said no. I asked a few other people and they said no. I opened it up and started reading it. I was very depressed, but the book cracked me up. I read the whole thing that night when I got home. I laughed most of the night, but some parts of it I found embarrasing. My wife came over the next day. We were (still are) separated because of my problem and she came over to yell at me about some money I was supposed to send to our son in college, and she saw the book and started reading it. She still yelled at me. But then a few days later she came over and we talked. She was a changed woman after reading your book. She said that the ending of the book had really scared her. She asked me if, like P, I was serioulsy thinking of killing myself, because she wanted me to know that in spite of our problems, she still loved me and thought the kids really needed me as their father in their lives regardless of my gambling.

I admitted to her that I thought about suicide every single day of my life. I told her that's just how it is with gamblers like me. She said that she understood that better now that she had read your book. She became very sad and serious and promised that she would always be there for me to help me though the hard times.

After that, we fought less and she tried her best to understand me. We are still not together, and sadly I did finally lose our house and some other things we owned, but she kept her promise and stood by me through it all. I did not take my own life, and I am well on my way to putting my life together. Life is hard, but life is better.

Your book helped me because it not only was funny and true, but it helped a non-gambler like my wife to understand what kind of creature a gambler is. Like I said, things are not perfect between us, but it is getting better.

I loved your book. It is the truest stuff I have ever heard or seen spoken on the subject of gambling.

Every gambler or everyone who knows a gambler should read your book and your blog; I love the honest advice that you give to gamblers.

A: Brother, thanks for your email. I do not really know how to respond to it except to say that I am proud of you and that I am pulling for you. Your wife is a wonderful person and you should count yourself blessed to have her. Keep on fighting. You will beat this thing.

Thanks,

Preston

Sex

Q: In your personal sex life, are you like the characters in your stories? If so, which character are you most like?

A: I do not discuss sex, politics, or religion with strangers . . . but I will say that the inspiration for my sex scenes, though they are sometimes born in the mind, are often taken from real life experiences.

Or from real good porno that I have seen.

Thanks,

Preston

Nadine's Husband

Q: Dear Mr. Allen,
How are you? I hope all is well with you. I was wondering what ever happened in "Nadine's Husband." I read the follow ups in BROWN SUGAR 2,3,and 4, but I was wondering if you were going to write a book because i was hooked.

A: Thanks for this email. It made my day, especially after so many emails about political things.

Well, I'm looking for a publisher. That takes time--but I am working on it hard. I will keep you posted.

Thanks,

Preston

This Is Why I Do Not Get Political With Strangers

I fear the mob mentality.

I fear strongly held but poorly supported beliefs posing as fact.

I fear rumor and hearsay.

I don't like people shouting each other down.

I fear sound bites as a substitute for argument.

I don't like to fight; I like to argue.

The bible says, "He that argues with a fool is a fool himself"; and every member of a mob, who moves with the mob, whether it be for the right or for the wrong, is momentarily a fool, for he has surrendered though momentarily his ability to think for himself.

I don't like mobs, for one cannot argue with a mob; one can only fight a mob, and I do not like to fight. I like to argue. I do not argue with fools. When you argue politics publically, you almost always end up arguing with a fool and as it follows, behaving yourself as a fool.

That's one reason you couldn't pay me to watch the so-called debates, name-calling on national television so as to please your mob is not a debate. We black people have a name for it. It is called "signifying," "doing the dozen," or "ranking." "Yo mama so fat, she got her own zip code." Saying stuff like that to get your mob riled up at the other guy.

When I was a younger man, in grade school, I was chased home by a mob of schoolboys and schoolgirls, threatening to beat me up and yelling racial insults at me--they were black, as am I, so it was not a black/white thing. They thought I was Haitian, though to this day I do not understand what that had to do with it. I was the new kid from Boston, wherever that was, and I spoke English like Bostonians do rather than like Southern African-Americans do, and I was dark skinned (but so were most of the others--but since I was new, my dark skin made me a Haitain--are you following this?).

At any rate, it made me very sad to hear these kids, some of whom I thought I liked or could possibly like, saying these terrible things to me. I was on the verge of crying when I finally made it home.

The next day, and for several days more, I approached individually pretty much everybody who had joined in on the gang-up. And I talked to them, made jokes with them, made friends with them, and it worked with most of them. Things went fine after that. I became a very popular boy in the fourth grade, though new to that school and that city, Miami.

The mob scared me; and it still does. But I am unafraid to discuss ANYthing with ANYbody individually. Members of the mob are less the fool when they stand on their own two feet. There is safety in numbers, as well as insanity.

I am very saddened by the following article I found on AOL. If I could, I would speak to each and everybody who goes to these rallies and behaves in this insane (mobbish) manner.

Let me try to understand this . . . you are angry because a man is running for president whose views are slightly different from your own (In truth, Repubs and Dems are the same face on the same coin as far as I am concerned). If this angers you, then what, in your opinion, is democracy? These charges that you level at him--do you really believe them? Really? Do you know how many "suspected" terrorists are being held captive right now by the US? America takes terrorism seriously. Why is this man not being held? Come on, stop being silly. You're not in 4th grade anymore. Pose your arguments and force him to respond to them--he seems nice enough, and he seems like he knows how to argue. Argue with him. Argue with them. Do not yell and shout like . . . the uncivilized do.

And by the way, if you are certain that the man is a terrorist, then it is your duty as a citizen, or a senator, or a governor, to have him arrested immediately. If you don't do something to get a known terrorist arrested, then you need to be arrested yourself.

And by the way part 2, this is not about Republicans. Democrats do it too.

We are a free society. We have freedom of speech. We also have freedom to listen. These two freedoms combined make us both free and civilized.

But we seem happier to argue from the safety of large numbers. Be warned that there is a danger in practicing such a weak form of argument in a democratic society.

A few years ago I found myself watching an episode of the Jerry Springer Show. The topic that day was Man-Boy Love, and the show featured a panel made up of men from an organization called the North American Man-Boy Love Association, or NAMBLA--these are men who advocate for the right of adult males (over the age of 18) to have consensual sex with non-adult males (under the age of 18) a practice that in most states would be categorized as statutory rape--sex between an adult and a minor.

The men of NAMBLA spoke first--they argued that it is unfair on at least three grounds for them to be forbidden from having sex with males under 18.

First, the law discriminates against them as homosexuals because in every state a parent of a child under the age of 18 (and over the age of 13) can sign for the child to have the right to marry and have legal sex with an adult--no such option is available for a child who wants to have legal sex with an adult of the same sex.

Second, a child who is an out homosexual, they argue, can benefit greatly from the sexual guidance provided by a mature homosexual, but he will fail to get this because of the law, and will procede to make many (and possibly) dangerous mistakes as he is finding his way on his own as a young homosexual.

Finally, they added, the young men (who already know that they are homosexual and are confident in their identity) are wasting many good years of sex because of laws that criminalize behaviours in homosexuals that are dismissed or winked at when they occur with heterosexuals.

Now, whether you agree with these arguments or not, you need to hear how Jerry Springer's studio audience responded to the words of the men from NAMBLA.

People jumped up yelling things like, "I feel like punching you in your mouth."

"If I caught you in my neighborhood, I would string you up by your toes."

"You ought to be shot."

"You are monsters! You need to be killed."

So went the argument of the mod. In fact, it was no argument at all. The mob on the Springer Show, as so often happens, used its large numbers to shout down an argument that it found distasteful.

Very entertaining, but perhaps not.

Shouldn't we, as a civilized people, if we dislike NAMBLA be able to beat its argument with a better argument? In fact, shouldn't it be a no-brainer to counter such a weak argument as theirs, if, in fact, it is so badly flawed? And it is badly flawed, right? That's why we all in this large group disagree with it? But can we articulate intelligently WHY we disagree with it?

More often than not, the answer is no, we cannot. And thus, we can beat their butts, but not their argument.

Perhaps we cannot beat their argument because we have spent too many years arguing from the safety of the mob. We have gotten soft where the ability to argue is concerned. If we outnumber them, we win by shouting them down or beating them up, not by having a better argument. We win because of the strength in our numbers.

It is easy but dangerous to depend on this method to win arguments. First of all, When you argue, you may not always be in a majority (or at a rally preaching to the choir--you might be standing before the Supreme Court in front of an impartial group of jurists).

Second, you never really have any way to be sure that you are right--because you never learned how to argue so as to reach "truth."

And when those impartial jurists come back and grant NAMBLA the right to have sexual relations with boys, you will have to admit that the ony reason they won was because younever learned how to argue, having always depended on the mob to win the day for you.

And there have been many decisions made over the years that members of various angry mobs reciting their group's message to themselves have disagreed with--Roe V Wade, Affirmitive Action, the various repeals of parts of Affirmitive Action nationwide, the War in Iraq, the Civil Rights Bill, the removal of prayer from school, the right to Display the Confederate flag in government buildings in the South, the right for the Confederate Flag to appear in one form or another in the modern flags of various states of the former Confederacy, women's suffrage, taxation without legislation, the Vietnam War, gay marriage, the draft, $700 Billion Dollar bailouts, One Nation Under God.

If the mobs had learned to argue, some of these things would never have been enacted into law. If they had learned to argue, they might have learned to think and would therfore understand why it was just and right that some of these things they initially disagreed with were enacted into law.

But of course, I'm wrong. Arguing is way too hard, even here in civilized, intelligent, democratic America.

It really is a whole lot easier just to call someone a terrorist in front of 10,000 people who already agree with you.


Thanks,

Preston

___________________

Found on Aol

(Oct. 10) - The unmistakable momentum behind Barack Obama's campaign, combined with worry that John McCain is not doing enough to stop it, is ratcheting up fears and frustrations among conservatives.

And nowhere is this emotion on plainer display than at Republican rallies, where voters this week have shouted out insults at the mention of Obama, pleaded with McCain to get more aggressive with the Democrat and generally demonstrated the sort of visceral anger and unease that reflects a party on the precipice of panic.

The calendar is closing and the polls, at least right now, are not.

With McCain passing up the opportunity to level any tough personal shots in his first two debates and the very real prospect of an Obama presidency setting in, the sort of hard-core partisan activists who turn out for campaign events are venting in unusually personal terms.

"Terrorist!” one man screamed Monday at a New Mexico rally after McCain voiced the campaign’s new rhetorical staple aimed at raising doubts about the Illinois senator: “Who is the real Barack Obama?”

"He's a damn liar!” yelled a woman Wednesday in Pennsylvania. "Get him. He's bad for our country."

At both stops, there were cries of, “Nobama,” picking up on a phrase that has appeared on yard signs, t-shirts and bumper stickers.

And Thursday, at a campaign town hall in Wisconsin, one Republican brought the crowd to their feet when he used his turn at the microphone to offer a soliloquy so impassioned it made the network news and earned extended play on Rush Limbaugh’s program.

“I’m mad, I’m really mad!” the voter bellowed. “And what’s going to surprise ya, is it’s not the economy – it’s the socialists taking over our country.”

After the crowd settled down he was back at it. “When you have an Obama, Pelosi and the rest of the hooligans up there gonna run this country, we gotta have our head examined!”

Such contempt for Democrats is, of course, nothing new from conservative activists. But in 2000 and 2004, the Republican rank-and-file was more apt to ridicule Gore as a stiff fabulist or Kerry as an effete weathervane of a politician.

“Flip-flop, flip-flop,” went the cry at Republican rallies four years ago, often with footwear to match the chant.

Now, though, the emotion on display is unadulterated anger rather than mocking.
Activists outside rallies openly talk about Obama as a terrorist, citing his name and purported ties to Islam in the fashion of the viral emails that have rocketed around the Internet for over a year now.

Some of this activity is finding its way into the events, too.

On Thursday, as one man in the audience asked a question about Obama’s associations, the crowd erupted in name-calling.

"Obama Osama!" one woman called out.

And twice this week, local officials have warmed up the crowd by railing against “Barack Hussein Obama.”

Both times, McCain’s campaign has issued statements disavowing the use of the Democrat’s full name.

A McCain aide said they tell individuals speaking before every event not to do so. “Sometimes people just do what they want,” explained the aide.

The raw emotions worry some in the party who believe the broader swath of swing voters are far more focused on their dwindling retirement accounts than on Obama’s background and associations and will be turned off by footage of the McCain events.

John Weaver, McCain’s former top strategist, said top Republicans have a responsibility to temper this behavior.

“People need to understand, for moral reasons and the protection of our civil society, the differences with Senator Obama are ideological, based on clear differences on policy and a lack of experience compared to Senator McCain,” Weaver said. “And from a purely practical political vantage point, please find me a swing voter, an undecided independent, or a torn female voter that finds an angry mob mentality attractive.”

“Senator Obama is a classic liberal with an outdated economic agenda. We should take that agenda on in a robust manner. As a party we should not and must not stand by as the small amount of haters in our society question whether he is as American as the rest of us. Shame on them and shame on us if we allow this to take hold.”

But, if it were up to them, such hard-edged tactics are clearly what many in the party base would like to use against Obama.

That McCain has so far seemed reluctant to do so has frustrated Republicans.

“It's time that you two are representing us, and we are mad,” reiterated the boisterous Republican at McCain’s town hall in Wisconsin Thursday. “So go get 'em!”

"I am begging you, sir, I am begging you -- take it to him," pleaded James T. Harris, a local talk radio host at the same event, earning an extended standing ovation.

“Yosemite Sam is having the law laid down to him today in Waukesha, Wisconsin,” quipped Limbaugh on his show Thursday, referring to the GOP nominee. “This guy, this audience member is exactly right,” the conservative talk show host said of the first individual.

Who IS Going to Be the Next President

Q: Who is going to be the next president, Obama or McCain?

A: Your mama.

Stop asking me political questions! I will not post them. Call me, if you want to discuss politics. I do not discuss sex, politics, or religion in public.

Thanks,

Preston

Black Jack

Q: Do you know anything about Black Jack? I noticed that there wasn't much about Black Jack in your novel ALL OR NOTHING. I have recently started playing and I was wondering if there is a reason the dealer wins so much. Have you noticed that she hits the great numbers 19, 20, 21 and beats you with them so often that it looks like she is cheating? Do you think they are cheating? I have lost about $2000 so far and I am thinking about giving up the game. I can't seem to win a hand, even the goood hands.

A: Yes, Texas Hold'em is very dear to the protagonist's heart in my novel, but Black Jack, if you recall, is the downfall of his girlfriend C.L. That is the game she cheats at to get thrown out of Las Vegas.

I am no expert on Black Jack, but I have played it enough to know what you are talking about--the dealer's uncanny ability to draw 19, 20, and 21--just when you get a really good hand like a 19 or 20 or 21, creating an unsatisfying "push" or worse yet, a loss, or your part.

But actually, there is a mathematical reason for this tendency to hit great hands on the dealer's part.

What a lot of newcomers to the Black Jack game do not immediately realize is that the Black Jack deck is over-stacked with 10s. Ten is the most commmon card in the deck. In the deck there are more 10s than any other card. What am I talking about?

Take 6, for example. There are 4 sixes per deck: six of diamonds, six of clubs, six of hearts, six of spades. Therefore if the dealer needs a six to beat you, she is unlikely to get it because sixes are rare; or, looked at this way, she only has a one in 52 chance, roughly, of getting it because there are only four of them in the deck.

How many 10s are there in the deck? Answer: 16!

Yes, 16.

See, there are four 10s, four Jacks (counted as 10 points), four queens (counted as 10 points), and four kings counted as 10 points).

So there are 16 chances out of 52 for the dealer who needs a ten to get it.

This also means that when the dealer is showing an ACE, that there is about a little over 30% chance (one in three) that her other card is a ten, a black jack, perfect 21, and that she will beat you.

It follows then, that the dealer showing a 10, likely has another 10 hidden and she may beat you with 20.

And the dealer showing a 9, likely has a hidden 10, which will be a great hand with 19.

And the dealer showing an 8, likely has a hidden 10, which will be an 18.

And so on.

Black Jack is a great game, the only game in the casino that gives the player a slight edge over the house. But if you play it, expect your GOOD hand to be beaten time and again (at least 1 out of 3 times) by the dealer's GREAT hand.

Getting beat like that is just part of the game.

Thanks,

Preston

I May Have to Return to the Casinos

Okay, this precognition thing is getting worse. Or better. I am now beginning to see a way that I can control it. Maybe. I still have no way to figure out what my dreams mean, but the other powers are becoming more manageable.

This morning I went to court--but first I went to the school to drop off materials for the person who would be subbing my class. My court appointment was at a courthouse downtown, so I thought it might be wise to stop off at an ATM and get some cash for parking. Across from the school there was a Walgreens--with an ATM!--but something told me, a voice in my head, don't worry about taking out money--leave it in the bank.

In fact, traffic would not let me get into the lane to get to the Walgreen's. I was forced by the traffic to go through the light and then make a U-turn to get to Walgreen's. Then when I got there, the ATM machine was broken. Okay, so I would buy a pack of gum and ask for $20 back in cash. This plan had problems, too. The woman working the register was new and inexperienced and kept voiding out the transaction. Finally, she got it right and I had my $20 in cash.

I got into my car, running late now because of the delays at the Walgreen's, and realized that the address of the courthouse (though I did not know exactly where it was) was near the downtown campus of my college; in other words, parking for me was free--all I had to do was park in a faculty slot at the college and ride the free people mover over to the courthouse. Duh.

So I parked in a faculty slot and got out of my car--forgetting my cell phone in the car. I was running late, but I never go anywhere without my cellphone. As I ran back to get it, a voice popped into my head again--it said, "Just leave your cellphone in the car. It's not like they're going to let you use it in court. You're going to have to turn it off anyway."

I said to myself, "Yeah, that's true, but I might need it afterwards."

So I got on the elevator to take me back upstairs to the faculty parking, but the elevator went down instead of up. So I had to wait for it to go all the way to the bottom floor before going back up to where my car was parked. More delays. Running late. It was close to 10:00. My court time was 10:00.

Finally, phone in hand, I ran to the people mover, got off at Government Center, entered the courthouse and dropped my keys, belt, and cellphone into the metal detector, picked them up on the other side, got on the elevator, rode it up to the 14th floor, got to another metal detector outside the courtroom and was told by the marshall guarding the door: "No, you can't bring that cellphone in here. No--abosultely, no--electronic devices are allowed in the courtroom."

Crap! I should have listened to that voice in my head. So now what was I going to do? I had 5 minutes before my court appointment. Crap!

I got on the elevator and rode it back to the first floor. I was frantic. I pleaded with the guards down there: "What am I going to do? I need to go to court, but I can't enter the courtroom with a cellphone. Do you guys have lockers or something where I can stash my phone for an hour or two?"

They shook their heads no, some of them cracking smiles. They had seen it all before.

There were two other guards there who were guarding the door to the outside: one was a friendly black man who had welcomed me in upon my arrival; the other was an elderly hispanic man, who spoke very little English--I had overheard him "trying" to direct an English-speaking woman to the restroom in broken English. His English was very poor.

But something told me to talk to him.

So I went to him instead of the friendly black man.

When I got up real close to him, I noticed he had a Honduran flag tattoed on his wrist. Interesting. I was born in Honduras, though I speak absolutely no Spanish. I come from the English-speaking side of the country--I'll explain more in a later blog.

So I went up to this guy and told him my problem.

He nodded his head and told me in broken English: "Go e-next door. Photo e-shop. A girl, a nice girl. Virginia. She will e-hold e-phone for you. Maybe give her some money."

Bingo!

I ran next door to the photo shop beside the courthouse, and the nice girl Virginia was not only nice enough to hold the phone for me, but she refused to take any money.

I ran back inside the courthouse and made it to my appointment, at most, 30 seconds late.

Afterwards, I got my phone from nice girl Virginia. Again I offered money, and again she refused.

I was going to get on the people mover to go retrieve my car, but a voice in my head said: "It is not too far. Walk."

So I walked back to the parking garage.

When I got there, there was a crowd waiting to get on at that end of the people mover. They were not happy. I over head them saying:

"It broke down again."

"This damn thing. I wish they would fix it."

"I need to get to court."

"Maybe we should walk to court. It's not too far."

"This damn machine. They should fix it."

Again, I had listened to the voice in my head and come out AHEAD.

Now if I can only figure out how to do that in the casino.



Thanks,

Preston

Don't Make It Political, Please

Q: I'm not asking you whether you support Obama or McCain, I'm just asking why you think that Clinton supporters, for a while there, were splitting off and going to McCain. Is it racially motivated?

A: I don't know. I cannot and will not speak for the motivations of other people, except for the characters in my novel, which is what you should be asking me questions about. I do, however, have my opinions and feelings on the subject. Meet me in private and we'll talk.

Or maybe, I'll just pose without answering it this question that has been running through my brain.

If I am a Democrat and a Clinton supporter, but Clinton loses to Obama, do I cease to support the ideals of the Democratic party and suddenly become a Republican? How do I all of a sudden become a Republican? Was I ever really a Democrat or was I just supporting a particular candidate?

Well, that's my question, and I do not need an answer to it. Just asking. That's all.

Like Leonard Cohen says, "I'm neither left nor right/ I'm just staying home tonight/ getting lost in this hopeless little screen."

No more politics. Time to pay your 700 billion dollar bar tab and head on home.

Thanks,

Preston

Now the Fun Begins

Here's a shout out to my old Professor John Dufresne for his great new book REQUIEM MASS.: A NOVEL, and for getting me started on a routine that is crucial to my career as a novelist. I get up every morning at 4 or 5 a.m. and write for one hour almost every day of the year.

Last week, I finished my prison novella FAMILY BLOOD--I'm still not comfortable with it, so I'm going to work on it a bit more before I shop it.

This morning I put the finishing touches on my collection, FACES IN THE WALL. I'm done with it. Finished. At last! Romance, philosophy, and serial killers. Yum!

In 4 (or 5) more days my novel FACE OF EVIL will be completed--so those of you who have been waiting almost ten years for the sequel to HOOCHIE MAMA, get ready to line up at your local bookstore. M Gantry is back and she is one baaaaaad muthaf--shut yo mouth--I'm talkin' bout M. Her crew is with her too, Sosa and Lambert (yes, I brought Michael Lambert back from the grave--he was too good to give up; actually this story takes place before the adventure in HOOCHIE MAMA, so it's actually a prequel).

One hour a day--it works, people. I highly recommend it.

Of course I don't always "write" every morning that I get up--sometimes I spend my hour proofreading, sometimes re-reading stuff I've written, sometimes reading someone else's work--the point is to spend at least one hour a day devoted to the craft.

For me, one hour a day produces about 3 pages a day; about 90 pages a month; about 1000 pages a year; about three book length works a year. As you can see, this year has been a good year. Two Face Books and a Blood.

Now the fun begins.

Thanks,

Preston

Can Someone Who Does Not Like to Read Become a Great Writer?

Q: I saw your performance today at MDC. I think I have a book in me, I would like to write a novel, but I have to admit that I do not read books except those I must read for school. Can someone like myself who does not like to read become a great writer, or should I just give up and do something else?

A: I think I have answered this question before, or something pretty close to it. I find it to be a very annoying question and find that it shows up all too frequently.

My simple answer is this: give up and do something else.

People learn to speak, by listening to others (their mothers and fathers, their close household kin).

If no one speaks to you, then you will not learn to speak. It is as simple as that. And if you do speak, you will have no sense of how horrible you sound to other people.

So it is with writing. Writers learn to writer by reading.

Before we write, we must first read.

And if we write, without first having read, we will have no idea how horribly our books read to other people.

"But I don't like to read," you argue, "and I don't want my style to be influenced by anyone else's. I want to be original in my poetry and fiction."

Sigh. You're so young.

But, dear emailer, believe it or not, you have already been exposed to reading if you grew up in this country. You read nursery rhymes and Dr. Seuss, right? You read birthday cards, right? And that is exactly what your so-called original poetry is going to sound like--if you don't start reading lots of good poetry.

And whether you like reading novels or not, you have already been exposed to a very powerful storytelling influence: film and TV. And that is exactly what your so-called original fiction is going to sound like--if you don't start reading lots of good books.

In the beginning, your work may be (and sound) a bit derivitive of the good poets and writers that you are reading. That is to be expected as you are evolving into a creature with its own original voice. Think about the child who repeats the words and expressions of his/her parents and older siblings; ah, but in a few short years, the child is speaking his/her own original thoughts with his/her own original voice.

Writing is like that.

You can't help but to be original because you are you, and you are the only you there is.

But neither can you learn to talk, or to write, unless you begin by mimicking someone else's words.

This is as gentle as I can be in responding to this annoying question, but I sense that you are genuine in your search for an answer. If you ask me again, I promise not to be so nice.

People who do not read . . . groan . . . suffice it to say that writers are not fond of people who do not read.

Why in the heck would you want to write if you yourself do not like to read?

Why paint a picture if you do not like to look?

Why sing songs if you do not like to listen?

I am baffled by emails such as this.

Thanks,

Preston

Politics and Religion

A typical question that I usually do not answer, but this time I will . . .

Sort of . . .

In fact, I'm not even going to say whether the question was about politics or religion . . .

It's getting annoying, people . . .

This, I hope, shall put it to rest . . .

________________________
Q: Far be it from me, Mr. Allen, to ask what side of the debate you are on, but do you not feel a need to guide those who are on the wrong path, especially the younger ones?

A: If a young (or old) person is on the "wrong" path and he/she encounters me and I perceive that he/she is not someone's blind, mindless follower out to convert me or to argue pointlessly with me so as to grandstand in the name of his/her religion/political party, then I shall be more than happy to offer my guidance on any matter, even religion and politics.

"When they differ on the issue, they cannot both be right. But they can both be wrong."
--Preston L. Allen, Sunday School 1976

"The first lie is that there are two sides to the argument. Age has taught me that where politics is concerned, there are seldom two sides to the argument. Usually what we have is a debate between reason and someone else's self-interest, and self-interest, because it is unafraid to continue to deceive its base, usually wins. Thus, in politics, the odds are roughly equal in a debate between the mental giant and the mental idiot."
--Preston L. Allen, Miramar barber shop 2005

"I am bothered as much by the atheist as by the true-believer. If the true-believer is wrong, then he/she is a child still believing in Santa Claus, but why write entire books, script entire speeches, and build entire arguments to prove that Santa does not exist? When I meet children who still believe in Santa, I smile at them and say, 'Merry Christmas!' Remember, Christmas is a useful holiday whether Santa is real or not."
--Preston L. Allen, Christmas shopping 2001

"So you want to be a witch? You are now into Wicca? Good luck, young man, and enjoy the miseries that will ensue. I hold nothing against Wicca, as I hold nothing against Christianity or any other religion. However, you are in college and one day you will hold a degree and be a job seeker in a largely Christian, Jewish, and Muslim world--these religions all perceive themselves to be on the light side and perceive Wicca to be on the dark. I think you are deliberately giving yourself a disadvantage, perhaps to prove a point--young people are always out to prove points, and that in and of itself is not a bad thing, the real problem being that the young have a great deal of passion and very little discretion, and therefore they often rebel, so to speak, 'without a cause.' If you are genuine and passionate in your unusual belief, why wear it on your sleeve? I have my doubts about you, young man. Now, we both know that no Christian, Jewish, or Muslim god is going to come down and strike you if you make this decision; but no Wiccan god is going to protect you either. All of the gods, both light and dark, are too busy for that--at least the gods have been too busy for that for the last 10,000 years. Perhaps they have been sleeping. But man is neither too busy, nor sleeping. Man is wide awake. Man has idle time. Man has idle hands. Man will strike you down in the name of his god of light. If you're looking for a fight, then join the dark side. If you're truly looking for spiritual enlightenment--it's not on the outside, it's within. It's not in a religion or an anti-religion--it's in the heart and the mind. Be a good person. Be good to people, please. Don't let a god or a devil or a witch or a warlock tell you how to be good. Goodness is already in your heart. Just be good, cuz. And when you find a real cause to fight for, you know that you can count on me."
--Preston L. Allen, to a young cousin 1992


________________________

Now please, no more religious and political questions.

Thanks,

Preston

A Gambler Dreams

Wow, this new semester is taxing me mightily with work.

I've got tons of papers to grade and I am almost finished with my latest novel, so instead of writing for my usual one hour a day, I have been writing 3 or 4, which leaves me little or no time to blog.

Sorry about that, guys.

Instead of answering emails this time, I am going to post a few weird dreams I have had and maybe you can tell me what they mean . . . maybe they represent winning lotto numbers or something.

When I finish the new book (in the next few days), I will be able to start blogging again with regularity.

____________________________
Dreams

1. I needed money to gamble and my account only had $200 in it, so I went to my youngest son, age 5 or 6 it looked like, and asked him for $400.

He said, "Okay, papa," and hopped on his bike and came back with $400.

When I saw the money, I decided to press my luck and said, "Really, son, I need another $1000."

He said, "Okay, papa," and hopped on his bike and came back with $1000.

When I saw this, I said, "Son, I really need $10,000 . . . is that okay?"

The 5-year old (who in real life is 14) said, "Okay, papa," and hopped on his bike and came back with a bag full of money. $10,000!

So I put the money in my wallet and noticing that he disapeared to use the bathroom, I snuck into his bedroom and took out his bank pass book (which no one uses these days). To my astonishment, his balance read, $300,000,000! My 5-year old was a millionaire.

Now I became very exited.

When he came out of the bathroom, I said to him, "Really, son, I need $100,000."

He said, "Okay, papa," and when he came back from the bank this time, I put the hundred grand in my wallet and headed for my car to go to the casino and gamble.

My wife stopped me at the door.

She said, "Do you not even want to know where he got the money from?"

I hadn't thought about that. "Where?" I said.

She said, "From his father."

"But I am his father."

She said, "No! Tommy is his father, and you don't even care!"

She stormed off loudly weeping and shedding big tears, and I shrugged and headed for my car. Whoever Tommy was, I would deal with that when I came back from the casino. For now it was time to gamble.

2. My father and I were on an island. I think we were stranded there. I was sooooo hungry. Somehow it came to my attention that my father was not as hungry as I was. Somehow I noticed that he was gaining weight despite being stranded on the island along with me. I begged him to tell me his secret.

He refused at first, but finally broke down and told me.

He said, "I learned this trick from years of sailing on the high seas as a merchant marine. Sometimes on the ship, we run out of food for weeks. When there is no other food, we prepare and eat our feces. But you have to do it the right way. Here, let me show you."

He took me to a tree, reached up into its leafy branches, and pulled down a square, brown cake of his feces that had been hidden up there. He handed it to me. It didn't smell so bad, but it felt heavy and solid like a rock in my hands.

"Eat up," he said. "It's not as bad as it looks."

I took a bite. It was nasty. Now inside my mouth felt like it was full of spiderwebs. And there was something crunchy in my mouth, too.

When I looked down at the cake of my father's feces, it was oozing bloody human fingers. I tried to spit it out, but the stuff was sticking to the inside of my mouth. My mouth was oozing blood.

3. I had a dream about my mother, who passed recently, and I don't remember whether she was actually in the dream or whether she was just a ghostlike voice, but she ordered me to read her journal out loud. So I read it out loud. I don't remember what I read, but she shouted very angrily, "No, don't read it in order. Read it backwards in the mirror."

I took it to the mirror and read it out loud backwards.

It read, "Hop home on your one foot, demon day. Hop home on your one foot, demon day."

I said, "Mommy, what does it mean?"

These were the words to a silly tune she used to sing to us, playfully teasing us (her sons), whenever we lost to her at checkers or some other game. I never understood these words, though as a child I used to squeal with delight when she sang them.

"What does it mean?" I pleaded.

She said, "Look in the mirror again."

I looked in the mirror again.

The mirror was cracked.


4. My daughter was in the backyard with my mother-in-law. My daughter, who is now 18, was a toddler of maybe 2 or 3 in the dream. She was wearing a little blue jeans overall dress set and a deep red shirt underneath. My daughter was lying on her back, and my mother-in-law Was trying to teach her how to pee on the grass. I heard my daughter crying pitifully and my mother-in-law shouting commands like "Shame on you," "Do it right now," "You're a big girl now, you should be able to do this."

When I looked between my daughter's legs, she had a big, black, bushy vagina, like an adult woman's vagina, and instead of urine coming out of her, she was dripping white semen.

My first impulse was to run and help her, but I slunk away in shame, hiding my eyes from her nakedness.

When I was safely inside the house, I screamed, "Leave her alone! Leave her alone!"

I listened with all my might, but I didn't hear any sounds coming from outside.

I woke up sobbing and shivering.

5. This one is the most recent. Last night I dreamt I was walking across a mattress upon which slept a large black jungle cat--a panther or something. A voice told me, "Be careful," but too late--I shook the mattress and the large predator awoke and pounced on me. He bit me hard on the hand, and having no other way to fight him, I bit him hard on the head. I don't know how I did it, but I put his entire head into my mouth and bit it, as though he were no bigger than a house cat.

Then I awoke.
___________________

Thanks,

Preston

My Politics

Dear loyal emailers, thanks for the emails, but as I have stated many times, politics is one of three things that I do not discuss in public, religion and sex being the other two.

I do not publicly discuss politics even in the era of Obama and Palin--though I am tempted.

But if I were one who discussed politics, I might tell you to go out and vote--vote your conscience.

Thanks,

Preston

Write What You Know

Q: I took an honors creative writing class last year and I have read lots of books on writing, but what do they mean by write what you know? They all say that but I don't really understand. My English teacher gave me some good feedback but I'd like to hear what you think.

A: Yes, we always say that--write what you know.

Write what you know, but what do you know? You are still young, a high school student, right?

Well, let's try to understand it this way--write what you don't know . . . . Now think about that for a while. Think of all the things you don't know--how interesting would those things be to write about? How difficult? How much research would you have to do? How interesting would it be to read? Write about nuclear physics, for example, something that neither you (I presume) nor I know very much about.

But you do know what it means to be you (among other things). So now let's go back to that nuclear physics assignment. What if a kid like you, say, found out that his new stepfather was a nuclear physicist . . . after a little research on nuclear physics, you would find that story a lot more natural for you to write, and a lot more authentic feeling for the reader to read.

The best stories are always in one way or another about human truths--and you, because of who you are, know the truth about being a teen--or maybe you know the truth about getting a new stepfather that is out of your league--it is that truth that will make the story worthy of reading--even though it is, for the most part, a complete fabrication.

"Writers have to know how to tell the truth before they know how to tell a lie."
--some guy whose name I don't recall

"Fiction is the lie that tells the truth."
--John Dufresne

"Authenticity comes from personal truth. Speak your personal truth and you have found your voice as a writer."
--Some guy named Preston L. Allen

Now don't confuse "write what you know" with "limit yourself to writing from your limited, peronal vantage point." Study. Research. Learn things. Engage the world. Live life. Study people. Learn people. Then tell the truth disguised as a lie.

I often tell people that BOUNCE, my novel written from the point of view of a black hispanic female who is still in love with an abusive ex-husband, is my most autobiographical novel. And it is. Cindique is me, but so is her lover Roderick Redd . . . I will not explain further.

At a reading once, a woman asked me, "How can you presume to write from the point of view of a woman?"

My answer was a challnege, something like: "Because no one knows THIS woman better than me, not even another woman. In other words, you may know women, but I know Cindique. I also know my mother--who do you think could write more effectively about her, you or me? Writers must learn to write the personal truth of all of the characters that they create. Writers can't be afraid to write out of their sex, or out of their race and ethnicity, if that is where the personal truth leads them."

Read these two interesting novels by writers writing out of their sex: MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA (written by a man); Damage (written by a woman).

As a CRW teacher, I have noticed a couple things about young/beginning writers.

Thing 1) They tend to write a great deal of science fiction and fantasy stories and stories involving dreams or dream sequences. I think that the reason for this is that, when we are young and our knowledge of human nature is till limited, we write such fabulist fiction so that no one can point a finger at us and say, "You don't know what you're talking about." If they point their finger thus in criticism, we can simply answer, "Yeah, but I made it up, so anything can happen. It's not real. It's science fiction." (As though good science fiction or fantasy is any less real to the reader than any other genre of writing.)

Thing 2) The best young/beginning writers tend to be those who have suffered a great deal of pain and thus have a personal well of painful truth to pull from. Thus, some of the best writings we find in CRW classes is from students writing about abuse, rape, poverty, homelessness, and the consequences of any number of bad choices they have made.

I had a friend in grad school I hadn't heard from in a while. When I did, I said to him, "Hey man, are you still writing? Are you getting anything published?"

He said, "No. After I graduated, I married a beautiful woman and we had three great kids. My life improved. I made up with my horrible father. I'm not sad anymore. I am happy now. I guess now I have nothing to write about."

I guess.

Here's something else to ponder: Although there are many exceptions, most writers write their best stuff AFTER the age of forty,

(After they have lived life a bit?

Hmmmmmm.



Thanks,

Preston

What Are You Working On?

Q: What are you working on right now?

A: I think I answered this one before. At any rate, I answer it a lot. Here is my latest verison of the answer--I am shopping a book that has lots of serial killers in it--it is sort of a sequel to my first novel "Hoochie Mama"; I am shopping a romance about a cougar; I am completing the middle book of the White Face trilogy; I am pondering the All or Nothing seqel, "Son of a P."

It is 5 a.m. in the morning. I've finished my writing for the day. I'm going to bed now.

Preston

Book Club

Q: Hello, Preston L. Allen. I saw your book on my neighbor's bookshelf and I began excitedly to discuss it with her until she told me that she hadn't read it yet. She is one of those book lovers who buy a lot more books than they can ever read. She explained that she saw the book's review in the NY Times and she bought it that Sunday along with several other books that she also hadn't gotten around to reading just yet.

When I told her that this was a book she needed to read, she asked me why.

When I told her because it was great, she said to me, "I've read many gambling books, what is so great about this one?" That question, for some reason, stumped me. I tried for several moments stumblingly and bumblingly to explain what was so great about the book, to explain the addictive plot, to explain all of the insights that I had garnered about gambling, to explain the incredible humor, to explain the unique voice until I finally gave up and yelled, "This book is unlike any other book you will ever read, seriously. It will grip you from the first page and take you on a wild crazy ride not just through the world of casino gambling, but through the mind of a unique character. What I'm trying to tell you is that it's great and unique. Just read it! You won't be disappointed!"

She called me later that night laughing and making sounds of delight. She said, "Great book! Thank you for making me read it. It's not just about gambling, it's about everything. I can't explain it." I told her, "See, I told you." We spent nearly two hours discussing it.

We would like to invite you to come to our book club if that is possible. We live in Fort Walton Beach, Florida. Would that be possible, we see that you live in Miami? Do you visit book clubs as far away as we are? We are able to pay for gas. Thanks, J and T.

A: J and T. Thanks for your email! I'm blown away. Yes, I do present at book clubs all the time, but Fort Walton Beach is really a very long drive for us. I usually try to stick to the Miami area, though I have gone as far north as Palm Beach for a book club reading at Lynn University. However, if you keep loving my book the way you do and passing the word along to all your friends, I just might convince my wife that maybe we should make a trip up there. In fact, give me a call at 786-389-9263 or 305 586-6423.


Thanks for your support.

Preston

Money for the Cure

Q: When you came to our class the other day, you mentioned something about gamblers' getting no sympathy. What did you mean? I enjoyed your classroom visit to my Reading class and your novel ALL OR NOTHING. It is the first complete novel I have read in ENGLISH since leaving Haiti four years ago. Studentfan

A: Yes, studentfan, I enjoyed that Saturday session with your Reading class. I was surprised and pleased to see you there because I have you in one of my English classes and you never mentioned that your Reading class was reading the novel. I'm glad you enjoyed the book.

What I meant by that comment was that most people have a certain amount of sympathy for those with serious substance abuse and addiction problems, more sympathy than they have for gamblers. Let me give you an example of what I mean.

Jane: So How's your uncle Mike?

Suszy: Well, you know, his cocaine problem overcame him again. They caught him breaking into a neighbor's house. He's in jail and we're trying to get a lawyer for him and we're trying to get the neighbor to drop the charges. He's really not a bad guy.

Jane: Poor guy. I'll keep him in my prayers.

Suszy: He tries, but he's hooked, you know?

Jane: Yeah. So sad. So how's your cousin Joe?

Suszy: That jerk! I never want to talk to him again. He set me up and borrowed a hundred dollars--he said it was for the rent, but my roommate says she saw him at the casino right after he had borrowed it from me. What a jerk!

Jane: Yeah, what a jerk! You just can't trust a gambler.



Or here's another way to look at it--

If you had to do one of the following, which would it be?

1) Mortgage the house to get your cocaine addicted brother out of jail?

2) Mortgage the house to clear up your gambling brother's finances?



Thanks,

Preston

A Trap for the Pure In Heart

Q: Dear Preston, I haven't been to "the casino" since September 23, 2007.

In January, I filed Chapter 13 bankruptcy, in part because of the credit card debt I ran up by taking cash advances so I could play the slot machines.

Sometimes I get the itch. Sometimes I really want to play "Double Diamond Run," "Cleopatra" or "Hot Flashes," but I've somehow been able to resist. It's been very difficult lately, though. I've been wanting to go so I can win enough money to buy my friend a concert ticket for her birthday. One of my other friends talked me out of it, thankfully. Another friend thinks I should go and see if I can only gamble a "certain amount" and make sure I can't get more by leaving my ATM card at home.

Well, I just finished reading your book.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

S.

A: Thanks for your email, S (named after one of the characters in the novel, LOL), and thanks for reading ALL OR NOTHING. I hope that it helped in some way, though I know that the only “dependable” and “trusted” ways for a gambler to be helped are to seek it professionally from a mental health counselor or to go to GA—and even if you seek help in one of these manners, you will feel the itch for the rest of your life. Sadly, they can teach us how not to scratch, but they can’t teach us how not to itch.

Therefore, the friend who advises you not to return to the casino to “win” money to buy a concert ticket for someone you care about is right. What many fail to understand about us gamblers is that we are usually good people at heart—we have wonderfully generous and altruistic plans for what to do with the money once we win it. We want to save the world with all of that money, and we would, if we could just win it. The casino is a trap for the pure in heart. You go there to win money for a good cause, and instead you become addicted to the most dangerous vice there is: the vice of throwing your money to the winds for enjoyment. If you go to the casino to win money for that concert ticket, you will lose the money for your rent and for other essential things.

I have been a lucky gambler at times. I once went to the casino to win money to help bury a close family friend. Was God watching me? I hit big on the first machine I touched upon entering—I hit more than enough to bury her and then have a few hundred left over. Then as I was waiting for them to review my ID documents and print me the check, I fooled around with another machine, and hit again! This was not so much as the first time, about half as much—but it was still nice. This amount was small enough for them to give it to me in cash without checking my ID, which I did not have because they were still checking it for the big amount I had hit previously and was still waiting to be given the check for. Of course, I put this money back into the machines and hit again! I was on a roll that night. By the time they finally brought me my check, I had won almost as much in smaller increments on random machines. So that was a good night . . .

But the problem is that the few and far between nights like that helped to create in me the twisted logic known as “magical thinking”: i.e., when I need money, instead of working I will go get it from the casino. Thinking like that leads to disaster. I have too many examples of disastrous nights like that, as I am sure you have.

Our habit is not in the making of money or the winning of money—our habit is in the ritual of risking money. Winning encourages us to take more risks (because we incorrectly feel we are lucky); losing encourages us to take more risks (because our financial situation has been destroyed by our habit and we need to get our money back and ironically the only way to get it back is to . . . gamble more and harder).

But you know all of this already, I am sure.

And the friend who tells you to go to the casino to see if you can gamble only a small amount is in gross misunderstanding of your addictive condition. You are trying to see if you can control it . . . but we have already determined that you are a gambler and therefore cannot control it . . . furthermore, did you do anything in the interim to “learn” to control it?

Did you go to GA? Did you seek counseling? No?

So here is your answer: of course, you cannot control it. That is not control talking to you. That is simply the monkey on your back talking. That is your itch begging to be scratched. You will tell yourself any lie to get back into the casino—including, “I want to buy a gift for my friend,” or even worse, “It’s my money and I can do what I want with it.”

LOL

But it is not your money anymore . . . really, it is not. It is NOT your money.

You have already spent all of YOUR money. You are now spending borrowed money—money borrowed to save your life!

Money borrowed from credit cards. Money borrowed (I am sure) from friends. Money borrowed from bankruptcy (a program that, despite its name and connotation, is really a system of consolidating and repaying your debt).

YOUR money has already been spent—you are now spending money that you OWE to other people.

No, by law it is not your money, and you cannot do what you want with it (not legally anyway). But you will gamble anyway . . . we will gamble anyway, because we are gamblers and we are ill. We have the worst kind of illness, a mental illness that tells us lies like “all we need is self-control to stop gambling” and “we will save the world and buy concert tickets for our friends with the money we will win at the casino” and “it’s my money and I can do what I want with it.”

Here is what you need to do:

1) Stay away from the casino forever—get help from a program like GA so that you can stay away from the Dante’s inferno called casino.

2) Find a new kind of thrill. Fall in love. Write a book. Take up sky diving. Here is something you may not have noticed, S. See, now that you are not gambling you have a lot more free time—a lot more—gamblers spend countless HOURS a week in casinos—countless. See, casinos not only steal your money. They steal your life. One hour at a time. When was the last time your played with your children? When was the last time you hung out with an old friend? It steals your time--and time, unlike money, cannot be won back. Suddenly all of your children are grown and they are strangers to you. Suddenly all of your old friends have replaced you with other friends. Like the song says, "Time keeps on ticking, ticking, ticking . . . into the future."

So when you stop gambling you have all of this free time, S, and . . . if you do not fill it up, you WILL eventually end up back in the casino. So why not use that free time to start a business? Help a charity? Do self repairs on the house? Learn to play the piano? Learn a foreign language?

Quitting gambling gives you back your time, so use it, S, or gambling WILL take it back.


Thanks,

Preston

BOUNCE is my most autobiographical novel, though the protagonist is a female

Q: I read your novel BOUNCE two years ago and it was great, I could not put it down. I thought you were a romance writer and read your story in Brown Sugar about the girl who fell in love with her brother-in-law. I wasn't sure I would like the gambling book because I do not know much about gambling and that world, but it is a great book, I am almost finished with it. The two books are different, but the style is the same. The gambling book has me turning pages like the romance book BOUNCE did. I really like your style and I want to know how you do it. What is your secret to making the characters in your book interesting?

A: Thank you. I am glad you mentioned BOUNCE and ALL OR NOTHING because those are two books that still astonish me when I read them. I am turning pages, saying to myself, "I wrote this? I wrote this? When? I don't remember writing this." I am very conscious of the other things that I have written. I can recall pretty much what I was thinking when I designed this chapter or the other, this character, this scene, chose this word. With BOUNCE and ALL OR NOTHING, there are times when it's almost like someone else wrote it. Those are two novels that I can just sit down and read and enjoy like a fan, though I am the author.

ALL OR NOTHING, of course, is about a character that I know well, a gambler, so I can turn off my brain and channel what I know about that world and cruise through the details, writing in a dreamlike state. I am a gambler, P is a gambler, the rest is easy.

BOUNCE is similar. I can't really explain it, but BOUNCE is the most autobiographical novel I have ever published . . . even though the protagonist is female.

Once upon a time, I was Cindique. I was a girl, er, boy, trapped in an abusive situation. My heart was elsewhere, but those roads were blocked to me too, only I was too young to recognize the CLOSED ROAD signs posted along the way. I had to live through the pain, the illusion of love that was really more abuse, but masked. I had to live through the pain. It was the only path that allowed growth for me. For Cindique.

So I closed my eyes and wrote, I became Cindique, I closed my eyes and wrote in a dreamlike state.

Thanks,

Preston

Wolf Girl 3

Q: Did/do you use any reference books on writing? Are there any you
would recommend? (Or any novels you would recommend?) Wolfgirl.

A:
John Dufresne's "THE LIE THAT TELLS THE TRUTH."

Stephen King's "ON WRITING."

Ken Macrorie's "TELLING WRITING."

Janet Burroway (several texts on writing).

Bernays and Painter’s "WHAT IF?"

PRIZE STORIES: THE O. HENRY AWARDS.

BEST AMERICAN SHORT STORIES.

PUSHCART PRIZE STORIES.

The short works of John Cheever.

The short works of Flannery O'Connor.

The short works of Ray Carver, but especially the collections "WHERE I'M CALLING FROM" and "WHAT WE TALK ABOUT WHEN WE TALK ABOUT LOVE."

Isaac Asimov's short stories, but especially "I, ROBOT" and the novels in the FOUNDATION TRILOGY.

Ray Bradbury's short stories, but especially "THE MARTIAN CHRONICLES," "R IS FOR ROCKET" and "S IS FOR SPACE."

Thanks,

Preston

Luck . . . Again

Q: What lucky or coincidental things have happened to you in your life and maybe helped you to write you novel ALL OR NOTHING.

A: Please let this be the last luck/fate question. Please.

I believe in skill, not luck. I do not believe that things are pre-ordained or predestined and will not believe until someone shows me some hard evidence or makes a more convincing argument than any I have heard so far.

That being said . . .

1) At work, my office was the office of novelist James Lee Burke when he taught at my college. People are always saying to me, "What a coincidence. That is the same desk James Lee Burke sat at. You are destined for great things."

2) As concerns poker, I seem to have a lucky seat--seat 3. I have caught seven royal flushes in seat 3. Seat 7 is also lucky for me. I have caught 4 royal flushes in seat 7. In a ten-handed Texas Hold'em or Omaha Hi-lo game, both seat 3 and seat 7 are three seats away from the dealer. As far as I can recall, I have never caught a royal flush in any other seat.

3) I seem to have had a lucky friend. While at the casino in the swamp one night, I was losing my shirt. This guy walked in, sat down at the table, and said to me, "You look like you are having bad luck. I'm gonna give you some luck." Players often joke like that to each other. I few minutes later, I hit a royal flush. It had a nice jackpot attahced to it, so I tipped all of the players at the table as well as the dealer. My new lucky friend said to me, "I brought you luck. You should tip me more than you did the rest of them." I laughed and gave him another hundred.

The very next night, while at the casino up in Broward, I was losing my shirt. The lucky guy I had met down in the swamp came in. He was not seated at my table this time, but at a table next to mine. In fact, we were back to back. I joked ove my shoulder to him, "If you are so lucky, bring me some more luck." He joked back, "I'm doing my best, bro." A few minutes later, I caught another royal flush. When they paid me the jackpot, I tipped everybody at my table and then turned around and tipped my lucky friend, too.

Every time we saw each other, we would joke around about how he brought me luck. It was kind of funny, really. And on nights when he was in the casino, I tended to win. I made note of this . . . coincidence. One night as I was leaving the casino, I found him hanging out in the parking lot. He had lost all of his money, he was afraid to go home to his wife, he had bills to play--blah, blah, blah--typical gambler spiel. What he really wanted was money to gamble with.

I had won a couple hundred that night and so I split it with him, but he said, "I am your good luck, bro. You should give me more money. Give me everything you won because I need it. Then go back inside and use the luck you get from me to win something really big."

This was complete BS, and I knew it, but I had been lucky with him. So I gave him all of my winnings from that night, then went back inside and sat down at the poker table. As I recall it, I could not seem to LOSE a hand that night. Before I knew it, my chips amounted to way more than the $200 or so that I had given him. Then a few hours later I hit a royal flush for about ten grand.

When I saw my lucky friend again a few weeks later, I pulled out a few hundreds and stuck them in his hand. He was suprised because he had not asked me for anything. He said, "What's this for?" I told him about the royal flush I had hit the night I had met him in the parking lot.

We laughed and laughed. "What do you think it means?" he asked.

"Well, I don't believe in luck, so I have no idea what it means," I told him.

And he said, "Well, believe this. I am moving out of town. I got a new job up in New York. I'm leaving tomorrow. Let's see how you do when I'm gone."

I laughed and told him, "I'll do just fine."

We slapped five and I never saw him again. I guess he moved to New York.

I also have never hit another royal flush.

4) After my divorce, I told my mother that I would never marry again. I had just started my new job that week. I had left the public schools for the community college. I was looking forward to making money and being single for the rest of my life. What need had I of marriage? I already had two kids from my ex, and I did not desire any further "marital torment," as I described it to my mother. I meant it. I was adamant about this thing.

The next day at work, my new boss, who, to my delight, seemed to like me very much, asked me to do some extra work (over time, more money!) in the writing lab at our satellite campus in Hialeah. Well, I was going through a divorce and needed the money, so I said, eagerly, "Yes."

So after work, I went to do my part-time night gig at the Hialeah Center, and upon meeting the woman who ran the lab felt a bit of the old lightning bolt. When I got home that night, I told my mother, "I just met the woman I am going to marry."

My mother could only nod her head, smiling at her fickle son.

Fickle, my big fat butt. My wife and I will have been married seventeen years in October.

In one of my many chats with my colleague and fellow writer poet/novelist Geoffrey Philp, I mentioned how I met my wife. I said, "If Elaine hadn't sent me over there, we never would have met."

And he said, "Elaine put me and my wife together too. She was in charge of the labs back then and assigned us to work together."

I forget who our other colleague was, but she overheard us and exclaimed, "Elaine put me and my husband together, too!"

5)

This is the one that makes me sad, but here goes. My mother passed away a year ago.

On the anniversary of her passing, I kept seeing three 7s. I saw them on a license plate. I saw them on a billboard. I saw them painted on the side of a truck. Then I even saw three Zs on something, but the bottom was obscured and the three Zs looked more like three 7s.

That night in the Play-4, the number was 7773, which was mother mother's phone number.

The next night 1972 came up boxed in the Play-4. My brother Anthony, who was not at the funeral and for all intents and purpoes is estranged from the family, was born in 1972.

I told my other brothers about it. It freaked them out.

6) One day I was playing Hold'em, and my cards were bad. Bad. For about three hours I was getting nothing but crappy hole cards. So I said to myself, I don't care what kind of crap I get in the hole, I am going to play the next hand. When I got my next hand, I looked at my hole cards: 2, 9. More crap. But I kept my promise and I played bad cards. The flop came 2, 2, 2. This meant that I now had four 2s, an unbeatable hand. Amazing.

7) I once picked up a hitchhiker during a very bad storm. She was a tall young woman with a dainty umbrella. When she got into my car, she said, "Do you smoke?"

I said, "No."

She said, "Do you get high? You mind if I get high?"

What kind of girl was this? She looked to be maybe 16. She had tattoos and piercings all over her face and arms. Her hair was cut short like a man's. As the rain and wind pelted thec car, I said, "No. I do not get high, and you will not get high in my car, either. Ma'am, would you just tell me where you'd like me to drop you off."

"No problem," she smirked, brushing me off as old school, out of touch, a square, a geezer. "The house is in Opa-Locka. You know where that is, pops?"

"Yes."

I knew where it was. Opa-Locka is not the safest neighborhood in Miami. In fact, it is reputed to be one of the most dangerous. I grew up in Opa-Locka back when it wasn't so bad.

When she gave me the address, I was in for another surprise. It was my old address! This girl lived in my old house.

I told her this, and her attitude changed. She became friendlier, more respectful. I told her which room used to be mine and she said, "That's my room now. Me and my little sister's!"

When we got to her house, the rain had abated, and we were both in for another surprise--she more than I. I spotted a man standing at the open door of her house and asked her who he was. She said, "My dad."

But he looked familiart. A little taller, a little stouter, but the same sleepy eyes and fat cheeks. I told her, "His name is __________ __________, right?"

She said, "Yes! How do you know him?"

"We were in fourth grade together. We sat next to each other in fourth grade."

The tattooed girl said to me as I was getting out of the car to go greet my old buddy, "Don't tell him what I asked you about getting high, okay? Please don't tell him."

I winked at her. It would be our secret.

Wolf Girl 2

Q: When did you publish your first novel and how did you feel about it? Wolfgirl.

A: I self-published my first novel HOOCHIE MAMA in 2001 and I felt great
about it.

I had another book that was supposed to come out that year,
CHURCHBOYS AND OTHER SINNERS (Carolina Wren Press, 2003), but there
were delays at the publishing house and so the book was put on hold.

I self-published that first book because I was tired of delays. I wanted
control. I wanted to see my name in print. I wanted to feel good. I
wanted to dance on the ceiling. When it came out, I danced on the
ceiling.

HOOCHIE MAMA is self-published, but it is well edited and it
says what I wanted it to say. I got wh at I wanted--control.

Thanks,

Preston

Wolf Girl 1

Q: What experience or knowledge is required to do your job? Wolfgirl.

A: By my "job," I presume you mean "Writer" or "Novelist," as opposed to
teacher/professor of English.

As far is knowledge is concerned, a writer must have lived and experienced the world. I once heard that by the time you reach16, you have at least one full-length book in you--your autobiography.

Writers go through life with their eyes open.

Writers pay attention to everything. They are fascinated by life and
humans and culture and conflict--they want to know what makes people
tick.

Also, a writer must be a good reader. A writer must love
reading. Many great writers never completed a formal education--but
they had read probably every book they could get their hands on.
Writers must be readers, but of course this only makes sense. Writers
are in the business of putting words on the page, in the business of
making books--why then should it be a surprise that they love books?

The best way to learn how to write is to read. A writer must always be
reading.


Thanks Wolfgirl,

Preston

A Page from the Diary of Fate 2

Man oh man, have I been getting some heat for my blog on luck!

Some emailers are saying "what about my lucky hat?" "What about how I met my wife? If I hadn't been at that party that night . . ." "What about Bob Marley? If he hadn't been a welder on the same job with rising singer Desmond Dekker when Desmond got hit in the eye and couldn't peform that night at the show, he may never have gotten his shot." "What if I had folded that night? I had nothing but 2,7. But I kept it, I did not fold, and the flop came 2,2,2. I won my first million that night because of that good luck."

Let me put it another way. There is no luck that controls things. There is only what we call "luck" after a thing has happened. In short, there is only "what will be will be."

Think of it like this. There are two giant wheels spinning independently of each other. Each wheel has a thousand points of contact. Most of these points of contact have CRAP marked on them. In fact, Only 20 out of a possible 1000 have GOOD STUFF marked on them. If your two wheels spin for you and you get GOOD STUFF on BOTH wheels when they stop, then you win. Most of the time you will get CRAP/CRAP. You will often get CRAP on one wheel and GOOD STUFF on the other. Often you will get GOOD STUFF on one wheel and CRAP on the other. It is very exciting, but you do not win. Close, but no cigar. Sometimes you will get the magical, wonderful, amazing GOOD STUFF/GOOD STUFF. When this happens, we say that you are lucky.

Well, yes. You are lucky because it was your turn to spin when the wheel came to GOOD STUFF/GOOD STUFF. You did not earn it through hard work. It was simply your turn and the wheel was ready to hit. You did not deserve to win it any more than anyone else who had played and lost. You are called "lucky" and you feel as though you have been chosen by the gods, you and only you. But luck only means "what will be will be," not a pre-ordainment. Luck is not a compliment to your talent and skill--it is a comment on what happened.

But you will say, "There were only 20 winners on each wheel out of a thousand. The odds of winning were therefore 400 out of a million, or 1 out of 2,500." Yes the odds were great, and so then luck should mean, "I have no special quality, I am simply the one who spun when the wheel hit. I did nothing to earn this but spin as did all of the others before me."

But we take luck to be a quality attached to the person--he is lucky. We argue Backwards and say, "But who put him in that spot at that time? Who did that? Who made him play on this certain day? Who set the wheels to hit just when he was playing."

We try to make luck a function of preordination. We anthropormorphize luck. Luck is a creature, a sentient being that controls what will be. We make luck a deity, a god.

But luck is not a god. Luck is, actually, the absence of a god.

Consider the following exchange:

1

"So John, congratulations on your tournament victory. You are quite a skilled player."

"No, Roger, I am not skilled at all. I hardly even understand the game. It was all luck."

2

"So John, congratulations on your tournament victory. I could tell from the way you played that you have no great understanding of the game. Clearly God was on your side, guiding your play."

"No, Roger, I doubt God had anything to do with it. I was just lucky."

Luck is the absence of skill or a god. Luck is a factor of probability. Luck, in fact, is about science.

There is a mathematical formula to represent how often our two spinning wheels will land on GOOD STUFF/GOOD STUFF. If you spin 2500 times, you are likely to hit GOODS STUFF/GOOD STUFF once. This does not mean that you will hit it. It simply means that we can look at every spin of the two wheels and count how many times GOOD STUFF/GOOD STUFF shows up, and that number is 1 out of 2500.

How do gamblers use probability?

Let's say the odds of hitting a royal flush are 1 out of 250,000 (I don't have the numbers in front of me, but this ratio is not too far off); this means that if you are holding a JACK, QUEEN, KING, and ACE of hearts against an opponent who is betting like crazy and you suspect he has a full house, you should fold your cards. Why not wait for the TEN of hearts and your royal flush? Because the odds are pretty good that you will not get it.

Now a bad gambler, or a brave one, or a desperate one, or one who is so rich that losing money means nothing to him/her will stay in the hand hoping to catch that TEN of hearts to complete the royal flush. And sometimes they do catch it.

To date, I have caught 11 royal flushes. This is no testament to my poker-playing skill; I was at different times a brave gambler (I knew the odds, but I defied them), a desperate gambler (I knew the odds, but I was so broke I had no choice but to play and pray that I won so that I could get my money back), a bad gambler (I had no idea what the odds were and no idea that a good gambler would have folded in this situation).

A poker player's skill comes from knowing the odds of catching this hand or that, and knowing the tells and tendencies of the other players at the game so as to determine whether they are bluffing or not.

See, most winning hands of poker played at a table with "good" players are never revealed. A player who gets ACE/ACE in the hole will bet a certain way and usually the other good players will fold, sensing he has something very strong--it matters not that the player holding the crappy 2,7 actually would have won if he had stayed in because the flop, turn, and river cards were going to be 7, 7, 7. Only a bad player would stay in with crap like that--and if the bad player stays in, he/she will beat the ACE/ACE and win. But the other good players at the table will grumble disparagingly, "He/she got lucky. What a bad player. No skill at all. Just blind luck."

Not God, not skill, not fate--just blind luck. Good gamblers don't like luck very much. Luck is what the amateurs need to beat the better players.

Luck is not a good thing. Luck is an un-earned scientific thing that the skilled have to overcome when matched up with the un-skilled.

But what about Bob Marley?

Okay, let's leave our hypothetical casino for a moment, though the two giant wheels are spinning out here in the real world too.

The story as told to me goes like this: A young Bob Marley was working as a welder alongside another young singer Desmond Dekker (REMEMBER THAT FAMOUS SONG, The Israelites?), who had an upcoming gig that night but hurt his eye so badly that day on the job that he could not perform. Bob Marley piped up something like, "Don't worry, boss. I can sing too. I can do it." The rest is history.

Here is a case where preparation, hard work, and skill meet opportunity (or mathematical probability). Call it luck if you will, but I will argue that this is no deity pulling the strings. Marley, though a young man, had been singing for years and mastering his craft. He took the job as a welder so that he could eat, but he was in his mind a singer looking for an opportunity.

In life, opportunities are not so numerous as lack of opportunity, but they do exist. Let's say there will be 20 opportunities on a spinning wheel of 1000.

If that spinning wheel offers an opportunity to, say, the non-musical Preston L. Allen, that is like a GOOD STUFF/CRAP spin. It can't help me. I'm a writer, not a singer. I help my co-worker Desmond Dekker find some ice to put on his eye, and I keep on welding. That's it.

But if that spinning wheel lands for Bob Marley, then we have a GOOD STUFF/GOOD STUFF hit and Marley will make the best of this opportunity. He had nothing to do with this opportunity, true, but he can take advantage of it because he has been preparing most of his life for it.

I know, I know, you have objections:

You say, but what if Dekker hadn't hurt his eye? Marley, I'm sure, would have kept spinning that wheel. Maybe he strikes up a friendship with Dekker and breaks into the business that way.

But what if Marley had not taken a job as a welder? He would have taken a job as busboy and kept right on spinning--opportunities exist.

And Marley will find one of those opportunities, and if he never finds one, he will become a very talented, very avante garde teacher of music in Jamaica, unheard of by most, but beloved by his students, especially those with a little rebellion in their blood.

We can't always create or find opportunities, but we can work hard on our craft, work hard at improving our skills. Then when opportunity meets preparation, we are ready to rock.

At that point, you can call it luck, fate, God, or whatever you will as you soar to the top.

The big wheels just keep on spinning.

Preston

Religion, Politics, Sex

Q: I read your collection, "Churchboys and Other Sinners" a year ago for a graduate class at the University of Florida and thorougly enjoyed it. The Elwyn Stories in that book are wonderful and should be made into a novel or even a movie. Those stories perfectly and humorously capture what it feels like to grow up as a fundamentalist, Evangelical, or Pentecostal in America; believe me, personally, I know what I am talking about. Been there, done that. And yet, the stories are not judgmental or condescending to religion and religious folk. All of the other stories in the collection are excellent too, but I especially like "Prince William Blows Good," as it recasts the Oedipus myth in a modern musical context, "Get Some," "Is Randy Roberts There?" and "Jack Move." The story I take issue with is "C Plus Baptist Virgin," a certifiable masterpiece of the history of racial politics in America. The message of the tale of a black boy and white girl locked into their own "boxes" was not lost on me, but you claimed in an earlier blog to be a writer who does not cover the topics of politics, religion, and sex. Explain that contradiction, sir. I have ordered "All or Nothing" at Amazon and can't wait to read it. Congratulations on your NY Times review.

A: Thanks for your email.

I repeat: I do not discuss religion, politics, and sex. I do not discuss religion because most people I have encountered, nost friends even, are incapable of carrying on a religious argument with objectivity.

When I used to participate in religious discussions back in the Rawlings Hall dorms at UF, it always boiled down to a question of faith. One side would say, "This is what I believe and therefore it must be correct," and the other side would say, "This is what I believe and therefore it must be correct."

That is not an argument--that is a shouting match. Whoever has the biggest mouth, or fists, will win.

When I argue, I have this bad habit of listening carefully to the other side and then posing challenges to the other side's assertions. Many people seemed to take these challenges personally; I was attacking their arguments, but they reacted as though I were attacking their person. Many feelings were hurt. I would rather not hurt feelings, so I do not discuss religion.

I smile a lot when others have religious discussions around me, but I resist the urge to participate no matter how strong it be. I have come to see that, with few exceptions, no matter what my friends' religious beliefs are, they are still very good friends and I am fortunate to have them.

Questions of virgin birth, divinity of Christ, the rapture, water baptism versus sprinkling, Sunday worship versus the Sabbath, creation versus evolution, the fallibility of bible texts, the existence of heaven, predestination, women in the pulpit, gays in the pulpit, Christianity, Judaism, Islam, which is the RIGHT religion?--these are questions I have no burning desire to have answered. I am happy not knowing.

But the truth, of course, is that these questions were answered for me long ago when I was a child and too young to resist and therefore they became part of my core beliefs.

The truth is that these questions were answered for YOU, also, a long time ago when you were too young to resist.

Thus, when we argue these things, we become like children arguing. Even though it might be fun, I would rather not have a childish argument with you. I was punched in the face a lot when arguing as a child. The bigger kid always won because he was, well, bigger.

When I became a bigger kid, the little kids lost many arguments to me because I was bigger and could punch them, and because of something else--I was . . . bigger. Little kids naturally look up to bigger kids. Little kids naturally look up to their parents, who are the biggest kids of all. Parents are the ones who give their kids . . . religion.

When you oppose someone in a religious argument, you are opposing their parents, you are calling their parents stupid and dummies and wrong and not smart, you are laughing at their parents. Thus, they feel like punching you. I would feel like punching you too if you made fun of my mom.

The easist way to make fun of my mom? Oppose me in a religious argument.

I do not discuss politics because [[see above argument for religion and substitute "politics" for "religion"; substitute "punch in the face" for "chase you off my porch with a shotgun"; substitute "punch in the face" for "tell you that if you don't like the way things are done around here, long-haired freak, then maybe you should just go somewhere else, like Russia maybe"]]. My only political argument is that we vote anonymously in a private booth and that we vote often.

I do not discuss sex because it can be considered impolite. It can be considered rude [[see Bernie Mac at a celebrity roast for Obama]]. It can be inappropriate, especially if there are children in the room. It can embarrass people. I don't like to embarrass people. I don't like to be embarrassed.

So there you have it. I do not discuss religion, politics, and sex.

But I do write about them . . . a lot.

In fact, check out my erotic stories in Brown Sugar 1, 2, 3, 4, and Wanderlust: Erotic Travel Tales. Sex? OMG, did I write about sex in those books. I remember running into a library one afternoon to use their computers to check my email for one urgent matter or another and while I was handing the librarian my ID, I noticed that she was reading Brown Sugar (#1). Naughty girl.

I said to her, "You like that book, huh?"

The naughty girl blushed and put a hand over the cover. "It's okay," she said, obviously embarrassed.

I could not resist. I said, "Have you read my story in there yet?"

She said, "You have a story in here?"

"The first one. 'Nadine's Husband'."

"Oh my god! That one is so hot. But you . . . sex, you write about it? You?" She eyed me. Baffled.

"Yes, I look like a college professor complete with tie, briefcase, shiny shoes. and middle-aged spread. I may not look hot, but I write hot."

She grinned.

After that, we chatted and she signed me up to do a presentation for her reading group.

Sex? Me? Write about it? Yes. Double yes.

In fact, the fun thing about the good little churchboy Elwyn in "Churchboys and Other Sinners" is that he is involved in a clandestine affair with the widow Morrisohn. Say Amen, brother, and drop your drawers.

The collection is not named "Churchboys and Other Sinners" for nothing--it explores a number of religous themes, and as you pointed out, political ones too.

No reviewer has written about it yet, but while the focus of my novel "All or Nothing" is gambling addiction it does have its steamy moments too.

I am a writer. It is my job to explore sex, politics, religion and other important issues in my work. This is what writers do.

And if these themes get people to talking, or arguing, there will be fewer if any punches thrown because the safe context of the fictional world of the short story or the novel provides a medium for objectivity that would not otherwise exist. In other words, "I am not talking about your religious beliefs, I am talking about Elwyn's."

Get the trick? It is safer to make fun of Elwyn's mom, than to make fun of mine. It is safer to ogle the topless hookers in the Vegas of "All or Nothing" than to discuss your peculiar bedroom habits to the crowd at the office potluck.

By the way, emailer, I am putting the finishing touches on the Elwyn/Sister Morrisohn novel as we speak.

Finally, "C Plus Baptist Virgin" is a hat trick--mixing politics (as you pointed out)with both sex and religion (as you can see from its title--Its original title was "Thomas Jefferson and the C Plus Baptist Virgin").

[[By the way, Elwyn and Sister Morrisohn are not technically Fundamentalists, Pentecostal, or Evangelical--they are members of a related sect called Holiness that has been around nearly 200 years--but you can call them fundamentalists if you like.]]

Thanks for you support and your great email! What class was it at UF that used the book?

Go gators!

Preston