Success

Posted on by Opher

How do you judge success??

I left a well-paid job as a Headteacher early to pursue my passion for writing. I have spent the past fifteen years rewriting and writing. I now have around a hundred and twenty books that I have written. I am completely free to write what I like.

I was fortunate enough to gain contracts with a publisher – Sonicbond. One contract led to another and I now have 8 books on my most cherished rock musician singer songwriters published with them. Is that success?

I have written at least a dozen Sci-fi novels that I am very pleased with even though I cannot land a publisher for them. I have self-published them with mixed sales. Is that success?

My other books include education, art, beat poetry, novels, biography, travel, antitheism and rock music – anything that turns me on. I self-publish them. Is that success?

For fifteen years I have been enjoying writing and have produced two whole shelves of my books. Is that success?

I have accrued many excellent reviews (and the odd bad one). Is that success?

While my books do sell in modest numbers I have never had a real flier and all the money I have made probably only covers the costs. Taking the cost of computer, laptop and WordPress, plus consumables, into account I probably break even.

If I had stayed on at my career for the five or six years possible I could have left with a lot more money. Would that have been success?

Now, there is no denying that it would be wonderful to sell vast numbers of books, gain lucrative contracts and awards and have huge numbers of glowing reviews and a massive financial reward, but that would only be the icing on the cake.

Success for me is all about doing what I have enjoyed doing, holding the products of my efforts in my hand and reading that some people have found them worthwhile. I really value those reviews and that people find my books worth buying. Thank you. That feels like success for me.

Life and Death

Posted on by Opher

I’ve been working on my Death Diaries book. Here’s a short extract:

What do I think will happen to me once I am dead? Nothing. I expect nothing. I will simply cease to exist, be nowhere, fade into eternity. I will have been a flash, a brief flicker in forever. Even the mightiest, most powerful, are brief unimportant flickers.

I do not expect eternal paradise, reunions, reincarnation, judgement, damnation or any awareness. I will be where I was before I was born; where I go when I drift off into dreamless sleep – nowhere.

It will neither be painful or unpleasant or ecstatic and blissful; it’ll simply not me.

And I’m very relaxed about that. I cherish life. I certainly don’t want to die. I find the thought of death disturbing. I certainly don’t like this ageing process either! I think, as I get nearer, I will reach a point where I want to give up. I shall relax, let go and dissolve into eternity. That’s it. Over.

I imagine there will be some pain and sorrow in the ones I leave behind, but not for me. I will no longer exist.

For a time I will live on. I will be remembered. People who knew me will conjure up their memories. There will be ripples that spread out from my life. But I fool myself if I think I have ever altered anything substantial. That’s vanity. I’ve stopped no wars, discovered no panaceas, not greatly altered any lives. Despite all my efforts in teaching, writing and arguing, my impact has been minimal.

I would have liked more but I think I’m alright with what I’ve done. I don’t think I’ve done a lot of harm.

Life has been fulfilling.

Death makes life all the more. Life is measured in seconds. We live in the moment. I have an urge to fill every second, to strain the pleasure, wonder and fulfilment out of it. Life is experience. That’s all.

Apart from the impact of my life and relationships there is the impact of my artefacts to consider. I shall leave behind ‘things’, things that were either valued parts of my life, possessions or were just passing through. They will be distributed or discarded. Charity shops and the local dump will get their share. Things that meant a lot to me might mean nothing to other people.

My records, CDs and books will be sold, my clothes sent to charity and other things discarded. My family and friends will pick out a few things to remember me by.

I wonder about all the photo albums. Will they be placed in an attic somewhere for a while? Will one or two be brought out and a life picked over? There are so many, too many. My life is well-documented. But of little importance.

Then there are the books. I have a couple of hundred of my own books. They might clutter the kids’ lives for a while. I bet they have good intentions to read them but never actually get round to it.

Never mind. They are of no importance. I will not care one way or anything. I will not get upset. I will not be there.

That’s life.

That’s death.

Poetry – Honed

Posted on by Opher

Honed

Honed to a point,

Concentrated

So that all else flees

And nothing is more important

That to capture the elusive flow

And ride the wave.

For when the mind is in tune

The harmony of creation

Is sweet satisfaction.

8.2.2017

Honed

Writing is my Zen. To meld with the oneness of the moment and melt into the moment where the words flow through the mind, a train of ideas that chase each other so that I rush to keep up.

When into the moment everything comes together and the mind sings. Perfection is the glow of being lost as the world has slipped away.