Even though this is an excerpt from my novel, this short story is complete in itself. The scene is a pub near the town Cahersiveen in Ireland, and the story leads to the lyrics of The Boys of Barr Na Sraide as written by the Irish poet and playwright Sigerson Clifford.

Even though this is an excerpt from my novel, this short story is complete in itself. The story describes a scene in an Irish pub in a Boston neighborhood where a young man with an Uilleann pipe plays a session of three songs. These songs remind the main character of The Bleeding Hills, Finnean Whelan, of his upbringing in Ireland, and my story describes three stages of his life.

The idea for “Cemetery Polka” came after I wrote an article on the importance of a good title for an article or even a book. “Cemetery Polka” is actually a song by Tom Waits, and I used the title as an inspiration to write a short story.

January 30th marks an anniversary in recent Irish history that most people living outside of Ireland and the Northern Provinces recognize only through a famous U2 song, Sunday Bloody Sunday. Unfortunately, the song is still misinterpreted as a “rebel song.” Nothing could be further from the truth. The band was aware of the controversial nature of Sunday Bloody Sunday, that its lyrics might be misinterpreted as sectarian, and possibly jeopardize their personal lives.

Just today I found an entry in the Online forum at AuthorNation.com (in my personal opinion the most civilized forum for writers). A fellow author complained about a book that apparently sells very well in the United States, but whose title he found somewhat annoying.

I felt, I should be writing an update on my novel American Male Prostitute. I am still in Germany (see also my blog entry The Lonely Cold Hotel Room), and traveling here, plus the preparation, took all my attention away from writing. I am finally in the right mind set, and whenever I have time to write I make good progress, usually between 2,000 to 3,000 words per writing session.

Whenever I hear Lonestar’s song on the radio I can’t help but yell, “You gotta turn off that air-conditioning!”, very much to the dismay of my wife, who loves country music. Now, she can’t listen to the song without thinking about air conditioners, which is even worse.

For truth is always strange; stranger than fiction.
- Lord Byron
Okay, things are getting a little weird. I am putting in a lot of work to promote my novels and, consequently, my web site, but I did not expect the e-mail inquiry I received today from Bruce in New York in regards to my new novel
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As a business man I am appalled by the lack of business sense literary agents display to the public, especially when it comes to rejecting writers not because they’re not talented but due to primitive reason such as violation of the submission guidelines.

The winner is clearly American Male Prostitute. First, the title itself is the best marketing tool, because it is provocative, and I have already written more than 7,500 words. Writing American Male Prostitute is fun, and I am not saying that writing The Fellow Utopian isn’t.