Time Is On My Side

“Time is on my side, Yes it is.” Irma Thomas recorded the song in 1964. Soon after that, the Rolling Stones released their own version of the song, with a bluesier guitar riff intro.

Mick Jagger in the background, 1964

Back then, it was about a woman or a man, who had strayed, running back to their lover, sooner or later. In my case, it is about all the time I’ve got on my side – almost 65 years of it at this point in my life. And I get more time on my side with each passing year. I don’t mind. At least I’ve got something on my side.

Although I am supposed to write a blog each week, I just realized with a shock that I missed two weeks in a row. What happened? Some of that time must have fallen on my head and knocked me out cold. I am meandering around in the Blue Ridge mountains of western North Carolina seeking cooler weather.

The view this year is not this clear due to the Canadian wildfires

Cool weather is getting harder and harder to find these days. Most of the country is in the grips of a heat wave. Much of Europe is also experiencing a heat wave. Most of us admit that climate change is real and a significant threat but some folks still insist that it’s all a hoax and support a habitual liar for president. Me, what do I know? I’m just an old fart who lives in a mini-campervan and drives around with his dog.

Meanwhile, my first book, My Two Centuries in Africa, continues to plunge into the abyss on Amazon. It was down to #3.8 million in the sales rankings earlier this week, but just rebounded way up to #975,000. There are different ways to look at the sales rankings. Considering that there are about 33 million titles on Amazon, #3.8 million is nearly in the Top Ten percent. On the other hand, it’s not on a bestseller list.

One in a million is not good odds if you’re the “one”

I’ve already written a draft outline for my next book, Home Free. I met a guy in an Asheville writing group who offered to review the draft. A few days after I sent it to him, he still hasn’t acknowledged getting it. There are people in the world who do what they say, but there are still a lot more people who don’t.

Think about it. How many people do you know who say, “We have to get together soon!” And when you say, “When?” they look at you like you’re crazy. You’re not supposed to take their words literally. They’re just pretending to be polite. Or you say, “Hey, I’m going on a long bike ride, wanna come?” No one does.

One of the greatest cartoons ever

That’s life. The smart people learn to play along, acting like they will do something, when in reality they have no intention of doing anything at all. Dumb people, like me, say they will do something, and then we do it. I say that I will write a book, and I do it. I say I will drive to the 48 lower states, and I do it.

How dumb am I? Well, I’m so dumb that even though no one is buying or reading my first book, I’m still going to write another one, which, in all likelihood, no one will buy or read, either. I have learned a little bit, however. I wrote the first book for myself and in memory of my first wife, who was an amazing lady.

When you write the book you want to write for yourself, don’t be surprised that no one else wants to read it. You didn’t write it for them. For the second book, I am trying to imagine what other people want to read. I still have to write the book in my own words, and it still has to matter to me, or I’ll never finish it. But at least I’m trying to anticipate what people might like to read and to make it interesting to them.

It’s kind of like being at a party and meeting people you don’t know. You can talk about yourself, and all the things that interest you, but other people will soon get bored and wander off. Or, you can ask people about themselves, listen to their answers, take an active interest in them, and they’ll keep on talking to you. In fact, they make think you’re the most interesting person they’ve ever met, even if you never say a word. So, my next book has to speak to people, to touch a nerve. They have to be able to identify with it.

I met the most interesting man in the world this week. He’s actually boring.

One thing I’ve realized is that there are universal, timeless themes that appeal to everyone. I thought about two of the most successful book series of the last 75 years, Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings. What, if anything, do they have in common? It occurred to me that they are multigenerational fantasies. The main character is a young person who is a misfit who also has tremendous potential. They somehow find, or are found by, a much older person who has special powers and special wisdom. Destiny ensues.

Of course, since my next book will be a nonfiction account of a national book tour to the lower 48 states, I can’t include a wizard or a dragon or give myself magic powers. But, I realized, I can find a bit of magic in everyday life. There are strange things happening every day. There is a lot that we can’t explain.

Most of the time, as adults, we ignore the magical moments. If we even notice the little miracles in our lives, we shake them off and tell ourselves, “Oh, it was just luck,” or “Well, that was a nice surprise.” We strive to be rational, practical, sensible, and realistic. How boring! Yes, we have to live in the real world, and it generally useful to be in touch with reality. It helps us to avoid getting lost in the crowd each time.

Being rational and practical helps us avoid getting lost in the crowd

But why do we abandon our own imagination? Why do we give up the childlike ability to dream?

As it happens, I have joined a few writing groups, all of which focus on fiction, i.e., making shit up. At first, I didn’t think I could do it. My entire career in public health was based on facts, on evidence, on things that we could count and measure and analyze and report, so that people took us seriously.

And yet here I am now making shit up every week and having a great time doing it. I have written a terrifying response to the cryptic weekly prompt, “Write a short horror story about making soap.” I have also learned how to think like a sociopathic psychopathic killer – but only when I’m writing stories.

I want to assure you (and the local police) that the only people I have ever killed were strictly imaginary.

Yes, time is on my side, but not for long. I’ve got to go. The next book isn’t going to write itself. I’d love to get together with you, but how about this time next year? Is this time next year good for you? Thanks.