I started watching "The Secret" and several other videos about The Law of Attraction

And so my friends I tried watching "The Secret" video. I'd heard alot about it and wanted to know what it was. And so I watched it. Basically a bunch of folks, mostly philosophers, telling you to imagine what you want and it will come to you. The idea is basically that you "live like you have it," and then you get it. I have always believed that hard work and smart work lead to success. But in this economy that  we're living in, I think our minds go back to thinking positively.

I love to watch movies made during the last Great Depression in the 1930s. In those movies everyone is rich. They are fun and upbeat and nobody has problems paying their bills or eating. It was the movies and it was escapism. That's when this whole "Law of Attraction" really took flight. It was part of the Unitarian church. People needed to be hopeful and to stay positive lest they throw themselves out of an open window. It's positive thinking. It's Joel Osteen. It's all this good feeling business wrapped up in one. And I have to tell you, I'm not against it.

But let's keep one foot grounded in reality here. We can't become so Heavenly Minded that we're no earthly good. So I say, let's try to look on the bright side, focus on our goals and then take the steps to make these things come true. I'm not expecting a giant Genie to come out of a bottle and grant me world peace. But I know that thinking positively and looking for answers is never a bad thing.

I enjoyed the secret. It was funny and informative. Does it work? Who's to say? I think that if we change our outlook we can feel better about ourselves and our lives. It starts from within, changing who we are inside. I look to God and pray for change, that I can be a better person. Remember that true wealth can not be bought. I'm sure there are quite a few billionaires out there right now who will never be as happy as a modest farmer who can sit in a field on a hot summer's day and enjoy a fresh apple picked from his orchard. There are certain gifts in this universe that we will miss if we focus only on the pursuit of money.

Sit in the sunshine and count your blessings. You're sure to find yourself feeling happy and rich in no time. I for one think that we are all blessed, especially in America where it seems everyone has hot and cold running water and a colored television. I wish I could say it was the same for the rest of the world! God bless and keep coming back! -Richard

Ehow dropped a bomb on me today!

I've been a part of the writer's compensation program for the last four years. I wrote about 106 articles and garnered an audience of over 500,000 readers. But Ehow was sold and sold again and now, rather than continue to pay us the writers our meager royalties, they've told me that they'd like to buy my articles and the rights to them and pay me very little for them. I removed every article. I've decided that rather than have ehow take advantage, I'd move them somewhere else. So you can expect to see some of these goodies popping up here. Any "how to" articles probably first lived there, although they no longer do. I hope you enjoy them and leave your comments. Best, Richard

Frustration Abounds in the life of the obscure Novelist!

So I went about my day slinging hash. It was unbelievably hot at work today. And then I walked the fifty or so blocks up to my smallish room with my army sized lumpy cot. I grabbed a can of chili and warmed it up and just as I was walking down the hall to the bathroom to do my business, as I'd come back ready to devour my chili, there they were, the buggedy buggedies. And so I had to throw the chili out.

Well this isn't the first time this has happened. I find if I don't spread some kind of bug killer around the perimeter of my room the bugs descend upon me. And I guess I missed doing it because I ran out of the stuff.

So determined to get more Boric acid (the only thing that seems to work), I also grabbed a handful of business cards that state the name of my novel, Seven Murders In Sussex, and also mention where to get it, at http://www.amazon.com/Seven-Murders-Sussex-Richard-Smiraldi/dp/1461080967/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1304464220&sr=8-1, I head out. I find myself handing cards out the the barber shop owner and some of his customers. Nobody up here speaks any English but as the "gringo" passes by they smile and nod at me. Maybe they can use the card to pick dinner out of their pearly whites? I don't know. But it's an effort.

I continue on through what a friend calls the BARIA and go into the grocer and get the Spanish version of Boric acid. The cashier, a lovely obese woman with gold teeth, smiles at me and says something in Spanish which I'm sure means roaches. I smile back and say Gracias. I'm probably all wrong in my inflection.

I then drop a few more cards off and walk back to my room in a boarding house.
It isn't at all what I thought it was when I read the add in the Times about renting a room. I asked the Mexican landlord about how many people there were on Welfare and he said only 5%.

I think he meant only that amount aren't received social service. I'm not one of them. They don't give single white, hash slinging writer types like me help. Although I think any day some benefactor will fall from the sky. But until that happens I keep pushing my book.

It wasn't hard to make the business cards. I just bought some at the stationery store for about seven dollars and then went over to the Public library. I was able to download a template and print them out. I'd saved up a little money from collecting tin cans on the street and around the Columbia quad and cashing them in at the grocery store. A few sweet girls gave me some dollars when they saw me scrounging for cans. I told them that I was a writer.

They offered to bring me into The Plex for something to eat, but I declined.

I must look just awful. I don't really eat very much. I don't like hash after slinging it all day. And so I usually eat whatever I can cook in my tin percolator pot on my lone burner. They call my room a kitchenette which means I get a little square refrigerator and a hot plate. There's a bathroom down the hall that I share with the other floor mates.

I don't have a television. Mostly I just open the windows. I have two overlooking a courtyard. I can see across the way into a better building where some young recent college looking types are having awards party and drinking martinis and cosmos out on their fire escape. They can't see me as I watch them in the darkness of my place.

I think, someday I'll have a nice light instead of this clip on reading light. But for the time being it's what I live with. Every day the same. I've been lucky. I have been able to make the rent. I pay by the week. The room costs 150.00 a week, which isn't bad for the upper west side. And I'm near the C train which if I have enough money I will treat myself to on the way to work.

I have some wonderful neighbors. Nobody my mother would approve of though. Down the hall is Gerard. He's a man of color who graduated from Brown, or so he says, but lately he's just a crack addict. He's on welfare. He has to come up with 25. a week for the rent and the government pays the rest. He does moving jobs. Sometimes his "cousin" stays with him. I don't remember her name or what she calls herself, but she always has crack because of what she's willing to do for it. I only know them because smiling Gerard will come by and say a few eloquent words to me as he hears me typing away on my laptop. It's so old it has an "a" drive. I take it with me everywhere so it won't get stolen and then upload everything to the Internet when I get some time at the library. I don't think we are supposed to do it, but I need to share my experiences with someone, anyone out there in the planet. Because I believe in my book and also it may be my last best chance of getting three meals a day and a better place to live.

I'm not complaining. We've plenty of heat in the winter. And when it's hot like this I can sit in Central park and write for hours. I'm working on the next mystery. It takes place in Manhattan. I find I can escape in the lives of my characters who dine at 21 on West 52nd street and go to all the best parties. They are clean and washed and live in well lit homes with central air.

It'll be hard to sleep tonight. Last night I thought I heard  a gun shot. And the fleas were biting at me. But now with the bug killer in hand, I'll be okay.

I never did tell you about what I have to do every morning before I go into work. Because of the varied and assorted lives my floor mates live, I have to scrub down the bathroom each morning before I feel safe enough to take a shower or use the commode. I bleach everything. Sure the bleach comes of my food money. But I think health comes first.

My ribs are showing again. Sometimes when I get real hungry, like I am tonight, I'll drink a few glasses of water and trick my mind in to thinking that my stomach is full. Sometimes I think if I have enough energy I could walk down to some of the galleries in Soho for the art openings and get a free meal, well hor's deorves anyway and usually wine or vodka. But my suits don't fit me. I think they'll think I'm on heroin.

I'm not. But being this thin does have it's disadvantages. They never think writer. They think you have either Aids, or you're a drug addict. There's no honor in being a poor writer on the upper west side anymore, living on your wits.

Back in the day I could make a good living doing temp secretary jobs. But they just don't exist or I've gotten too old and too thin.

But we do what we can to survive. And the writing goes on. I don't choose to do it. It chooses me. So maybe some of the drag queens on the corner will use my cards. They used to call me cutie. They don't anymore. But they took the cards, I think out of pity. I don't care. I just hope somebody somewhere reads the book and that it is as good as I think it is.

I tried at literature. And someday if die in this place, at least somebody somewhere will know that I tried.

Well thanks for listening, I'll try to write more when I get the strength or time off or I'm able to take a warm shower again. Until next time, I am humbly your writer blogger, Rich

comment from a reader

I have to tell you that when I read this book at first I thought, great this is really moving kind of slow. That first chapter where your characters tell us all about de-population kind of dragged. But then I went online, and now I'm thinking, "is this a true story or what?" So anyway I get to the second chapter and it gets meatier and then towards the end of the book I feel like Reilly is my best bud. I mean she's so real and so good, and then...just when we know who the murderer is and everything is solved, then you pull that crap on me!!! Now was that really necessary!!!! I enjoyed the book. The more I read through it, the harder it became to put it down. I nearly missed picking up my kids from school! Yes, it's that good!!! But the ending, well he made me feel. I was angry and yes I hurled the book across the room and then rushed back and held it for awhile as tears streamed down my cheeks. Bastard! He did this to me! And now I can't wait until Richard get his butt in gear and pushes out the second part, so I can feel it all over again. I won't lend my copy out. Now that I know how it ends I'm reading it all over again. This girls, is a keeper. And Alexio, if you're really out there, I'm waiting for you! -Glenda Bauman

Mystery Writer Frustration

Well dear readers, it isn't the fun that I thought it would be. Yes, I did finally get the novel out -doing that dastardly act of "Self Publishing." The truth is that I needed to get the book out. Yes, I went the traditional route of contacting and querying agents. But the book had been sitting on the shelf in my closet for five years and finally I had the courage and will power to do the editing. But I have another novel in my head. I was encouraged by my writer's group to continue writing. They think, "brilliant." But I had stopped. Stalled is more like it.

So I self published. But my half a million readers at ehow have not run over to Amazon to buy a copy of the book. And all the friends I have on facebook and throughout the internet world haven't purchased the copies that they said that they would. And a woman from the writer's group took a copy with her to England on the plane and returned some weeks later telling me that it wasn't proofed or corrected and she barely got through the first five pages.

So I'm thinking, okay, I've written a brick block. Maybe I can use the few copies that I purchased as a door stop, or to line the birdcage if I had a birdcage. Maybe that's just it for the book. A part of me thinks that it's up to the book to perform itself. That it has to show it's true worth. Yes, I had a message to deliver to the universe...but I've got to tell you, dear reader, that I never intended to say half of the garbage that comes out of the protagonist's mouth. Reilly says her own things. It's as if the characters took on lives of their own and they rebelled against the writer.

I know alot of readers won't understand this, but I have to tell you that we writers very often are channeling. Who knows where it comes from. I think the philosophers call it "muse." But my responsibility was just to get it down. That I don't agree with what the character says or does - seems not to matter. I have to be true to the characters - even if I don't agree with them. It's what they call, "verisimilitude." And the fact of the matter is, we don't always agree with what our characters say or do, or even believe in what they're preaching. My protagonist has a habit of "sermonizing." But she doesn't stand behind what she says, and that's a character flaw.

And so do we just write what we feel is right? If we do that, then we have a flat character.

But book/brick aside. I did try at marketing.

Do you know that last Thursday, after going to an interview for a temp job in presentation work (which is what I've been doing to pay the bills) I took myself up to the 21 Club on West 52nd street. I did this because I wanted to get some details for the new novel = which I hope I actually get to say some of my own words in. There's an entire conversation that happens in the bar room. But I found that I couldn't remember anything.

So I sat at the bar and got a whiff of the air. I looked at the table where my characters have a lengthy conversation. The table has a red and white checkered tablecloth. The artwork around the room is by and large ink drawings by Remington. I also forgot a key detail - the toys hanging from the ceiling! This is a big thing to forget. Tara, the barkeep and I had a lovely conversation. She told me all about the various trucks and planes, Reynold Wrap box, etcetera. She said it started in the 30s with a British Airline company. The adman hung a plane above the table for the client to see. Howard Hughes saw this and hung his own plane, and so on and so forth and now there are literally hundreds of items hanging from the ceiling!

I told Tara about my book. She introduced me to the PR lady, Avery. I didn't happen to mention that I had self-published. So they're thinking I'm this famous published novelist, instead of just plain old little me. I had dinner, the organic chicken -which was divine and two glasses of a fine white wine and topped it off with some pear brandy and expresso. I met a guy, "Steve" who told me about his history with the place - very interesting, and I felt like I had come home. But then the check came and I realized that I wouldn't be able to do this too often.

I went to one other bar but failed to hand out business cards. I'd become something of a shy little mouse. I don't know where this person had come from as I'd always been, as one friend described, "a caricature of myself." But these days I am just small.

Well I'll tell you this (and this is hard for a writer to admit), but I don't do the big drinking until all hours anymore. I'm not that person any longer. I used to go out with some friends I'd met in NYC. But they were much older and now they're all gone and it's just me, and I think that while you can be young and drunk, you can not be old and drunk. And I'm not a happy drunk these days, probably having residual anger and bitterness leftover from what I thought I might have done or been had I not been this, a writer.

But there are thousands of pages written through the ages by sages, okay enough with the rhyming, but there are enough bitter also rans out there - people who didn't measure up  or writers who died trying..and I am not going to be one of them. In this the 21st century we can do any thing world, whatever we set our minds to and develop and create. As I always say, GO BE DO - CREATE! And realize this, no matter what your station, CHANGE IS POSSIBLE!

SEVEN MURDERS IN SUSSEX is available at www.smashwords.com

Yes my fans, it is finally out. You can get it at http://www.smashwords.com/ or at http://www.createspace.com/ (hard copy). I've put together a little promo film to give you the look and feel of what's in the provacative and haunting new book by yours truly. enjoy!


SEVEN MURDERS In SUSSEX FLICK by rsmiraldi

The novel is an EBOOK. I put it up this morning! SEVEN MURDERS IN SUSSEX

So my friends, I did it. After hours and hours of laboring over the already error ridden mystery novel I did go to Smashwords and put up the mystery novel. Yes, this is the book I'd written about 6 years ago! I wrote it, gave it to a church lady to read. She said that is was "abominable" or something like that and then it sat in the closet for about five years until this past fall when I joined a writer's group. The writers all though that what I read from the book was "brilliant." But we only editing about 3 pages a week (in addition to my having to read and comment on their works). For a few months no one showed to writer's group - or writer's anonymous as I like to call it. So on those cold and lonely wintry nights I worked feverishly on the first draft to get it publisher ready. Then dutifully I sent out about two dozen queries to agents.
But then, like most writers, I felt that I should DO something. So I published the book through Create space as per some writer recommendations on one of the many sites I read. And then..to add more to my journey, I published the book  up on smashwords yesterday. I had to change the format so that it could be read on ipods, kindle and the like! It was a labor of love. But I wanted to get the word out. And now we wait. I'm hoping that a few people will read the book and be moved, as I have hoped to have done with this book. And then I hope word of mouth will bring this book to the surface. I wish for alot of things. But I believe that there are messages in the novel that this universe and planet need to hear. They didn't come from me, but rather that higher power and muse that follow. It'a provacative and cautionary tale and I do hope that if you've found your way here, you might find the five dollars to purchase the ebook, or at the very least read the 20% I've given the reader for free. It's a remarkable tale that sort of wrote itself and I do think that not only will the reader enjoy it, but hate me at the end of it for its twists and turns. I plan on writing two more parts to this trilogy..but that all depends on you, the reader. The book may be found at: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/53538. So give it a gander and give me a holler and let me know if you liked it or hated it...if it spoke to you.