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Alameda, California as Writing Muse

Howell Hurst Uncategorized

Alameda is a sailor’s town. Even on its main streets it smells like the sea. Long a US Navy town, much of that is gone now. Burger King and Mexican Taco places set the tone today. I’ve been the past three days burrowed down inside my sailboat waiting for the workers of Svendsen’s Boatworks, Inc. to finish with others, and haul mine out of the water for what is known among boaters as “a bottom job.”

No, Alice, that’s not a sexist remark. It indicates it’s time to thoroughly wash the bottom of the boat of barnacles, and sand and paint it – a task that comes about every couple of years, particularly if you commonly park on a salty ocean, which I do. While here waiting, I’ve been scouring the news for something new and original. Sorry, just the same old wars, mayhem, greed, lust, betrayal, theft, tomfoolery, and basic human stupidity on exhibit as usual.

Simultaneously with the boat job arriving, a graphic designer and some editors and I have been completing a video Trailer of the film I’ve been working on for two years. Everyone who views the Trailer has a totally different “take” on the film. Some love it; others waste no time telling me how horrid it is. I’m learning that a film director must become a tyrannical dictator, ignore everyone, and do it your way. Otherwise, you lose your mind.

Starting Here: these last two paragraphs are an Advertisement directed to all who bother to read my occasional Blogs. Consider them Coming Attractions: 1. I do intend to follow up on the survey about willing our body parts [a thrilling subject] to medicine when we die. I’ll do this after the boat’s been repaired. 2. I do soon intend to announce to all of you the actual printing of my two books, one an Espionage Novel, “Subterfuge;” the other a lifetime book of Short Stores, “I Can’t Hear The Drums Anymore.”

Some of you have gone into my website and, via Kindle version from, already bought and started to read both. I’m hoping more of you’ll be further motivated when the print versions are complete. In you’ll find one review of “Subterfuge” which a lady reader has found worthy for women, despite its subject matter, for the love story it also contains. So: that’s the kind of muse Alameda is. It seems to bring out the practical in me. Apparently you don’t sell books unless you tell somebody about them. Consider yourself mildly informed. Harder selling comes later.

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