The Love of the Written Word

The Kiss

2012-03-06T23:32:00.002-05:00

Easter 2001- Dad, Margo and Samantha

I have no fucking family. They all abandoned me. Every last one of them. Margo was the last to go. She kissed me off ever so delicately. Nonetheless, she kissed me off. My father and his wife nailed me with a double-barreled shotgun. I am still reeling from the wounds. It's not the first time he has fucked me over, but now there are kids involved. But they just don't give a shit about my kids. Never did. Not once did they ever give them Christmas presents. They never call on their birthdays, and Samantha asks why we don't go down there anymore. Maybe it's because I can't stand the fact that my father's whore has only pictures of her grandchildren, but there is not a single picture of my kids to be found. What a fucking bitch. I hate her whole goddamn family. It's not easy being a complete outcast in your own family because we are all too fucked up to deal with each other's issues. Family dynamics can be a killer when you come from a fucked up family like mine. Swiss Chocolate says it all!

Poem from A Friend

2012-03-03T22:40:00.000-05:00

When I get well, I am going to
Paint and Plant
Build and Sew
Weave and Spin
Till my heart begins to glow

Follow the stars
And follow my heart

Help and teach
All children to a good start
Negative battles that play around me
Pour a new foundation
A new way to be
Inspire the driven
Who one day I’ll leave

For 43 years, I’ll build them inside
And watch them grow tall in love and be wise

When I’m 93, I’ll sit on the porch
And feel the wind and the sun’s gentle scorch
And watch all the little ones play in the fields
Of nasturtium butterflies and other sacred things
A tall glass of tea or perhaps lemon-aid
And think how I was sick once
And how it led to this day.

Dat Shit Crazy Moose!

2012-03-03T01:56:00.001-05:00

Taken at Power House Gym in Bayside, NY. Just a one-minute warm up before getting my ass kicked by my personal trainer, Anthony Enzo Musso. Yo, Moose! Thanks for kicking my ass!

Just in Case Anybody Should Ever Forget

2012-02-27T11:40:00.002-05:00

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

Phantom Page

2012-02-26T17:30:00.002-05:00

This is a community page about Esmeralda. I don't know how it got there, but my feed from my author page on Facebook shows up for no rhyme or reason. It is bizarre. It is what it is. I just can't explain it.

You Nailed It, Reverand

2012-02-24T20:00:00.001-05:00

This is passed along from one of my writers, Jean Johnson. She is brilliant and has one hell of a powerful voice.

If you sincerely desire a truly well-rounded education, you must study the extremists, the obscure and nutty. You need the balance! Your poor brain is already being impregnated with middle-of-the-road crap, twenty-four hours a day, no matter what. Network TV, newspapers, radio, magazines at the supermarket... even if you never watch, read, listen, or leave your house, even if you are deaf and blind, the telepathic pressure alone of the uncountable normals surrounding you will insure that you are automatically well-grounded in consensus reality.

-- Rev. Ivan Stang

Urban Survival

2012-02-23T20:15:00.004-05:00

Training my 12-year-old daughter, Samantha, in Israeli Survival and Kenpo

I was on the Q28 bus coming home during rush hour. The bus was crowded, and when it stopped suddenly I lurched forward and stepped on some kid's foot. I took off my headphones and apologized to him. He said to me if I touched him again he would punch me in the face. I apologized again, and he became agitated and more aggressive. I told him I would move to the other end of the bus, but could only get a couple of feet away from him. In Israeli Survival, we are taught to fight using anything at our disposal. Although I turned my back to him, I kept him in the corner of my eye. He still looked like he wanted a fight, so I took my Fisher Bullet Pen out of my pocket, discretely put the end cap on and held it in my fist, waiting for whatever might happen. He may have been a street fighter, no doubt about it, but he wasn't trained, otherwise he never would have come on like that. If he made a move, I had my plan of attack worked out. I would have jammed the end of my pen into his eye as hard as I could using a quick back-fist technique that he would never had seen coming, and then jammed it into his neck and swept him to the ground. This is New York City. Do not fuck with strangers. Do not challenge. Do not be aggressive. Always apologize when you bump into someone, and then get out of their way quickly. This is urban survival. I don't carry weapons. I am a weapon; I just find ways to avoid using it. Scared the shit out of me, because street fighting in New York City is all about survival, and there is always someone better than you. Let this be a lesson to my fellow students. Anything can happen anywhere. Be prepared, but do your best to avoid physical aggression at all costs. It’s not worth the consequences, no matter the outcome.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

The Blog Farm

2012-02-22T11:53:00.002-05:00

About a month ago I contacted John Gilbert, the admin for The Blog Farm, asking him when my paid syndication was ending. He sent me back an apology, explaining that his server had been hacked, and that my blog had not been up for months, and that the time I had lost would be tacked onto the end of my subscription.

Of course I was surprised by this, but I simply let it go. The Blog Farm really does not mean very much to me, and he never did tell me how much time I had lost, but I am a trusting soul, and figured he would do the right thing and tack on the correct amount of time.

He asked me to go back up to his site and reregister my blog, which I did on Super Bowl Sunday. The next morning he wrote me and asked me to reregister my blog again because his staff had been watching the Super Bowl, and my blog never made it up. I told him that I did not want to reregister my blog, and that he should fix the problem from his end. He wrote me back, telling me that I was lucky he was in a good mood because he was thinking of banning me from The Blog Farm permanently because of the tone of my email.

Okay. I can take a shot on the chin and roll with the punch. I am trained in that. But I was pretty irritated because I paid this jackass for a year of service, my blog got dropped for who knows how many months, and this guy was giving me attitude because I told him to fix a problem that he created. He really does think he is ALL that.

John Gilbert censors most of my posts. When I write fuck, he replaces it with f**ck. The same goes for shit and any other expletive that I choose to use. This does not sit well with me at all. I don’t believe in censorship, and beyond changing words, he also changed out pictures I used with my blog because he found them to be offensive.

This morning he sent me an email claiming that people had complained about some of my posts in the form of comments, and that I had named people in personal attacks, and that he had taken the posts down. He did not, however, say which ones they were. I believe it was a single post called Set Your Shit Straight, which was posted January 30, 2012.

At first I just brushed it off and told him that I would be more careful in the future. I did explain, however, that this was not a personal attack, but merely a statement of facts, and that I truly had been robbed of thousands of dollars without recourse, and that people need to be held accountable for their actions.

Then I thought about the situation, and I realized that it was completely unacceptable, and I would not agree to being censored any longer. I asked him to please remove my blog from his site, and that I would donate the rest of the money I had paid to his cause, because he does offer a valuable service for children, but I am not PG 13, and that my audience has come to respect me for my honesty, truth and willingness to lay my heart and soul on the line.

You can’t have it both ways, John. This is who I am. Have a great day, a pleasant tomorrow, and a good night you ignorant slut.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Esmeralda

2012-02-12T22:06:00.001-05:00

This brilliant video is the perfect synopsis for Esmeralda.

Beware the Beast of Amazon

2012-02-07T13:24:00.002-05:00

This morning I made the decision to unpublish El Aguila and Esmeralda. At first I was successful. Both my books had been removed from their site, but at around noon today, Amazon put Esmeralda back up for sale. As of now, a price has not been set.

Right now I am racking my brains trying to figure out how to get out of their iron-clad contract. There is an out, but it is nearly impossible to find it, and they give you no contact information to send them your intentions.

So, as we speak, Amazon prime members are downloading the book in droves for all I know, and I am not getting a dime. I feel like I have been intellectually raped. Beware fellow writers. Amazon is out to kill you. Publishers, I need not say more. Tremble and quake in Amazon’s awesome power, for they fully intend to crush you, and there is nothing you can do about it. You are at the mercy of a malevolent Leviathan that wants your hearts and souls.

Beware, my friends. And love to all!

James M. Weil

The Money Tree

2012-02-07T09:55:00.001-05:00

I have pulled Esmeralda and El Aguila off of Amazon Kindle until I figure out my next play. Right now I am looking for an agent. Because I enrolled both books in KDP Select, I will not have the electronic rights to my books back until April 19, 2012.

I do have some agents I wish to approach. Once I understand their guidelines completely, I will craft my query letters. I don’t have to worry about selling my manuscripts; both of them hit the bestsellers lists while they were free of charge. I have numbers and a track record behind me, but then again, what does that matter in this day and age?

There is an old saying in the publishing business: A bad agent is worse than no agent at all. Agents, like editors, make their decisions based on their personal biases, especially when it comes to fiction. I need a powerhouse behind me. El Aguila could very easily take the world by storm, and Esmeralda could become a cult classic among men.

It may take years to find another agent. I am competing against a lot of writers, and my minor flash-in-the-pan runaway bestsellers mean next to nothing when all an agent or editor sees is dollar signs.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

The Brave New World of Publishing

2012-02-06T09:53:00.008-05:00

The last few weeks have been an extraordinary experience for me. My former agent had been trying for years and years to get El Aguila published, but the book was rejected by every publishing house in the country. Editors found it to be charming, but nobody was willing to stick their necks out on a book that exposed such deep truth.

After years and years of rejections, I finally tried a long shot and entered it into Writer’s Digest’s YA Fiction Contest. It didn’t even place, so I said to hell with it and decided to see what happened if I published it on Kindle Direct.

El Aguila was published by my corporation, Weil Editorial Services, Inc., on January 14, 2012. I didn't put it on promotion; Amazon did that for me. They also put the book in the Free Historical Fiction category, which puzzled me because El Aguila is a contemporary novel. It hit the bestsellers list within seconds. I was blown out my chair as I watched the numbers flip before my very eyes. During its five day promo run, it hit number 35 in that category and never dropped below 60. It stayed in the low 50's during most of the run. Its Amazon Best Sellers Rank now is: #348,911 Paid in Kindle Store.

Not even my former agent knew what to do with Esmeralda. It defies categories. She was a little squeamish about the sex, but I refused to take it out. My work stands the way I write it, and editors who think they know better usually don’t. Esmeralda was published by Weil Editorial Services, Inc. on January 19, 2012. I never announced it. I let it sit until El Aguila's run was over. I announced it on Facebook on Wednesday, February 1, 2012 and put it on promo. There was no way in hell Amazon could find a category for Esmeralda, so they dropped it in general fiction. Its best ranking during its three day promo was 1,345 in all free Amazon fiction, which I achieved on day one. It hovered above 2,000 for a couple of days, and then dropped to about 2,600 before I stopped the promotion on the third day. Its Amazon Best Sellers Rank now is: #310,652 Paid in Kindle Store.

This is astonishing and disturbing at the same time. It took awhile to figure out what happened, but once all the dust settled, I finally did. Amazon is destroying the publishing industry brick by brick. Once they entered into the publishing industry, the brick and mortar houses got squeezed out of the e-book market completely. Beyond that, they are traditionally publishing their own books, so the big houses can’t possibly compete with a behemoth like Amazon.

The Brick and Mortar houses are folding imprints left and right, and editors change faster than baby diapers. The midrange book category has been all but eliminated by the big houses, and the only way to nail a big contract with the big houses is to have a REALLY big name, or a manuscript that they believe with all their hearts will make it to the top of the charts. They only want blockbusters.

This eliminates newcomers almost immediately, so their only option is to go with a small indie house. This is also a huge problem, because the smaller houses are getting hammered by rising costs, less readership, and their distributors. Some of the smaller houses can’t get picked up by Midpoint, and that can be a problem and a blessing at the same time. Midpoint has a tendency to order too many books and then slam the publisher with returns for those that don’t sell. They also pay several months after the book goes into the distribution channels, leaving the small publisher in a cash bind. That kills cash flow for the small publisher, as well as royalties for the writer.

So, it has never been more difficult to get traditionally published in this day and age. Authors all over the world are rebelling against the Brick and Mortar houses, and are taking the option to self-publish through Kindle Direct or SmashWords. Both are free, and if your book takes off, you can make a name for yourself, but you will make pennies on the dollar, especially if you go Kindle Direct.

Amazon Prime members pay $79.00 per year, and for that price they have access to thousands of e-books for free, yours included. Amazon has destroyed the publishing model forever with this policy. Yes, both my books were in the bestsellers list as long as they were offered free of charge, yet as soon as I ended the promotion, nobody is buying the books. I am certain Prime Members are downloading my books to their hearts’ delight. And I am not seeing a dime. I am getting screwed nine ways to Sunday.

I have seen several amateur writers who have made it pretty high up in the paid category, but they are only charging .99 cents for their books. After Amazon’s take, they are getting peanuts. And even worse, people have short memory spans, so they will drop off into oblivion unless their book is recognized as a modern-day classic.

Welcome to the Brave New World of Publishing. This has always been a whore’s business, but now it has become a filthy whore’s business. The outcome will be the destruction of the New York Brick and Mortar Houses as they collapse one by one when Amazon sits on their arrogant heads.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Cell Phone Nightmares

2012-01-31T08:59:00.002-05:00

I was a T-Mobile customer for nine years and seven months. I was eligible for a partial upgrade on February 11, 2012. Because of my loyalty status, I had unlimited minutes, which really meant nothing because I never used more than 1,500 in a single billing cycle.

My relationship with T-Mobil began to degrade when somebody nipped my phone out of jacket pocket as I was coming up the escalator from the 7 train at Flushing-Main Street. I discovered it missing when I got on the Q28 bus on my way home. As soon as I got home, I went online, locked my phone, sent out an earsplitting alarm, wiped all my data, and then traced it into a neighborhood I would never venture into unless it was absolutely necessary.

I had an HTC G2, which I hated with a passion. The keyboard never lit up unless I was sitting in total darkness, the damn thing constantly froze, it constantly rebooted without rhyme or reason, and it was dog slow, so you can imagine how happy I was when I filed my claim online and the insurance company told me that my phone was no longer manufactured, and that they would be sending me an HTC 4G Slide, a much better phone with some great features. They sent the phone to my office the very next day.

Imagine my disappointment when I discovered the phone did not read my SIM card. I took the phone to the T-Mobile store down the street from where I worked, and the representative tried several SIM cards, but no luck. The phone was defective. They could not replace it, so they put me in touch with a representative at T-Mobile. I told the guy that I needed a phone immediately, and that his only alternative was to messenger a replacement phone to my office by 4:00 pm, or I would cancel my contract and get a phone at Verizon, which was right across the street. He asked me if the store had a loaner phone, and they did, which I said was acceptable.

But then the idiot told me that he would be sending me a G2 because that was my replacement phone. Here is where my frustration really started to set in. I asked the guy why he would send me a discontinued phone when the insurance company upgraded me to a newer phone. His answer was that although the phone was discontinued, that didn’t mean they still didn’t sell them. I had no choice but to acquiesce.

The next day my G2 arrived with no battery. I looked at the thing in disbelief. Now what the hell was I supposed to do? I called T-Mobile and told them about it. The idiot on the phone told me that I was supposed to take the battery out of the busted 4G slide and put it in the G2. At that point I just laughed. They were completely different phones and the batteries were not interchangeable. I asked to speak to his supervisor.

My call got kicked up to another level, and a Loyalty Support Specialist promised me that they would send me a 4G slide the very next day. The next day came and went, but no phone, so I called and told them they had two choices: get me a new phone this very day, or cancel my contract.

“Which will it be?” I asked.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I cannot get you a new phone today.”

“Then you are cancelling my contract,” I said, finally.

“I am?”

“You’re goddamn right you are. I am going to Verizon. Fuck you and your Loyalty Plan.”

I hung up the phone, and went straight to the Verizon store. I already had an account there because of my daughter’s phone, so I got a Samsung Galaxy Nexus and added it to my plan. What an amazing phone! This thing screams it is so fast. So many great features! I should have ditched T-Mobile years ago.

I went back to the T-Mobile store and turned in my loaner phone, got my money back, and walked out. T-Mobile is going to hit me with a cancellation fee. They are going to wait for their money. I have more important bills to pay right now, and after what they put me through they can wait a couple months.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Set Your Shit Straight

2012-01-30T14:26:00.006-05:00

There are times when a man must let go of all the bullshit in his life and focus on the positive, and then there are others when he must stand up for himself and set the record straight to protect his good reputation. So, here it goes:

Several years ago I befriended Joann H. Buchannan. At the time she was a fledgling writer with great potential. Although I found her writing to be somewhat trite, I saw the appeal she would have with the teen horror genre. She had posted the beginning of I Am Wolf on her blog, and when I read it, I fell in love with her style.

Apparently, the Fiction Editor for Book Reviews for the L.A. Times liked her writing too, and sent her a message asking when the book would be out, because he wanted to read it. Joann contacted me in a panic, and asked me what she should do. I told her to tell him that she had just been signed with a reputable agent and that her book was in editing. Somewhat shocked by what I told her, I asked her to check her email. I had just sent her an Author-Agent Agreement, told her to print out two copies, sign them, and send them to Chamein Canton Literary Agency, whom I was a part of back then. Then I told her that I would edit her manuscript at no charge.

We worked together for months on that manuscript, and at the end, Chamein was happy. Joann was really struggling, and her fiancé only had part-time work. So, for Christmas, I sent her family a money order for $300.00, so that she could see her parents for Christmas. I also gave her several books to help in her writing endeavors, including The Elements of Style, which she never read because she found it to be too boring. I guess good grammar didn’t interest her.

So, I donated several months and countless hours of my time free of charge to help her get a foothold in the publishing business. I even went as far as signing her on spec, and when my agent found out, she told me she would drive to my house and kill me if she did not like that manuscript. I told her not to worry.

Joann reciprocated my good will by building my blog, The Love of the Written Word. She admitted that this was probably a $300.00 job. I was thankful. She went even further and offered to promote Swiss Chocolate when it was released January 28, 2011. Toward that end, she and her sister, Chantell, formed C & J Public Relations and took me on as their first client. I was ecstatic!

Joann got busy and started writing press releases, and Chantell told me stories about all the media kits she had built. To facilitate her job, I had my publisher send all 100 of my author copies to Chantell, so she could get them into the right hands. I also sent Chantell $1,000.00 to cover expenses. She said with that kind of money we could easily do three major pushes.

It didn’t take me long to figure out there was a problem when Chantell started making up excuse after excuse as to why she couldn’t send me an example of the media kits she said she had made. Although my publisher, Casey Swanson, is a pathological liar, I believed him when he told me he never received a single media kit. When I went to Joann about the problem, she nearly took my head off for slamming her sister.

She changed her tune very quickly when Chantell did not return her calls either. Finally, Joann realized that her sister had burned me, apologized for what happened, but told me this had nothing to do with her, and that it was between me and Chantell. I had no recourse, because Chantell lived in the Midwest, and I lived on the East Coast, and at best, this was a small claims case, even though it involved several thousand dollars.

Joann had already finished the first draft of her second novel and sent it to me to read. She asked me three times if I had started reading. I was so disgusted I couldn’t, and I felt completely used. Finally, after being kicked in the nuts so hard by my best friend, I completely fell apart, and our relationship turned into a huge catfight. There was absolutely nothing I wouldn’t have done for her, and I had proved that with my incredible generosity. If one of my sisters had burned my best friend for thousands of dollars, I would have beaten down her fucking door to find out what happened.

Later, I heard Joann completely rewrote I Am Wolf, and is now telling people that I destroyed her book with my poor editing skills. That just hurts. There are also lies about me collecting some sort of insurance claim on my books. That is not true. I never did see my books or money again, and I have never been compensated a single dime for all my losses.

Now, there is also some shit flying around about my relationship with Chamein Canton. I let her go because she simply was not doing her job, and she became abusive and extremely negative. That is all. Nothing more.

This discussion is closed, and I will not be accepting comments or questions. All comments will be deleted.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

The State of the Publishing Industry

2012-01-19T10:50:00.000-05:00

I have been watching the publishing industry go through remarkable changes in the last few years. Basically, the old brick-and-mortar houses are crumbling before our very eyes as the digital revolution takes over.

Publishing houses are hemorrhaging money like stuck pigs, and editors change faster than baby diapers. More and more imprints are being shut down, and nailing a contract with a traditional house is becoming more and more difficult. It seems the only way to get a publishing deal is to be a complete jackass on national TV. Idiots who have no idea what good writing is are getting contracts only because people know who they are.

Authors all over the world are rebelling against the traditional houses and are making the decision to self-publish. This is very dangerous ground. Self publishing can be costly in terms of promotion, and often times many people lose their shirts.

Recently, after much discussion with my agent, Chamein Canton, I decided to self publish with Kindle Direct. They nail you when it comes to digital rights, but then again, I did not publish this book to make a fortune. I published it to get a story out to the public. I am only charging $2.99 for the book.

I am giving away twenty copies to first come-first serve. I still have seven copies left to give away. If you want a copy, email me at jweil@weileditorial.com, and I will send it off to you. If you don’t have a Kindle, you can download the Kindle software for free on your PC or Mac.

I am not completely happy with the way the formatting turned out on the Kindle conversion. The indents are a little off in a few places, and some of my corrections simply won’t take. It’s frustrating, but I will keep putting up new versions until I have it right.

Below is a short synopsis of the book:

María Suárez, a young, Colombian nineteen-year-old woman, comes to America as an illegal alien. She ends up as a domestic for a rich, old woman in Westchester, New York. The story begins with her cleaning the old woman’s bathroom. As she is cleaning, the story flashes back to her home in Colombia. Her parents were very poor farmers living in a camposito high in the Andes above the town of El Aguila. The town specializes in growing high-end, specialty coffee normally reserved for the Japanese.

The town gets ripped to pieces by the guerrillas and the military when the bottom drops out of the coffee market and the cafeteros get forced into growing coca. Eventually the entire town is destroyed. She escapes, and through sheer determination she manages to make it to America without a word of English and no money.

What makes this book different is that it humanizes the brutal struggle for power and survival going on in Colombia today, as told from the eyes of a young woman with a fifth grade education.

Remember, I have seven copies left to give away. When all have been given away, I will make an announcement that the offer is over.

Love to All!

James M. Weil

Happy New Year!

2012-01-01T16:32:00.001-05:00

I am not a God. I am just an Adonis.

HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!!!

It’s been ages since I have a made a post. Basically I have undergone miraculous changes, namely I finally made the decision to be happy. With that decision came a slew of other decisions, mainly letting go of people and situations that are toxic for me. It’s all about attitude, but it is best summed up in this timeless mantra:

"Lord grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can, and
the wisdom to know the difference." – Saint Francis of Assisi

I have discovered my lunacy. I have explored it and accepted it. It is a part of me, but I have control over it finally and play with it like a child’s toy. Basically, I have learned how to have fun. I am, and always have been, a clown—as my personal trainer says.

The best part is that I really have a blast with my children. I enrolled both my children in Moti Horenstein’s Mixed Martial Arts, and then decided to rejoin myself. We train as a family and have fun working together on techniques and sparring on the weekends.

I can cope with stress by compartmentalizing the crazy-ass problems in my life right now. They are all serious problems, but my health is not affected unless I let these things get under my skin. The children come first, as it always should be. The rest is all about prioritizing and keeping your cool.

So here it is, Boy and Girls! The new me. I will still talk about my disease, but from an angle you have never seen from me before.

Life is too short to live in unhappiness.

Love and Joy to All!

James M. Weil

Looking Good, Feeling Good

2011-10-30T18:10:00.001-04:00

I’m going into my fourth week of diet and training. I work out at the Power House Gym a few blocks away from me. I’m up to twenty minutes of good, hard cardio on the elliptical machine. I’m not pumping huge amounts of iron just yet, but I am doing a lot of reps with a small amount of weights. I feel absolutely great! I should have done this months ago, but it’s never too late. My entire outlook has changed, and I feel positive and strong.

Lately I have been going back in time, digging up some of my favorite music from the 80’s. I have already shared a lot of Elvis Costello, and if it’s not already obvious, I worship the guy. There were a lot of great bands that came from that decade—Joe Jackson, Squeeze, the B-52's, and a slew of others—but Elvis Costello was by far and away the most intellectual and had the most to say about the world around him. He is a genius, but his best work was in the early 80’s.

I’d like to share an old classic that rocked my world when I first heard it. Love Shack¸ by the B-52's. A great song, but then again, they had a lot of great songs, and their music had its own feel. Going back in time is so much fun when you are reliving the good times. Best to let go of the bad and hold on to what was right and good.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

The Perils of being Over-Medicated

2011-10-27T22:11:00.002-04:00

For the last few months, I have been so over-medicated I was falling asleep at my desk after lunch. When I came home from work, usually I nodded off at my desk in front of my computer at around 7:30.

I complained to my doctor, and he reduced my Depakote, a powerful mood stabilizer, by two hundred milligrams, with the intention of weening me off it slowly for good. I had had enough. I was gaining weight too fast, I had absolutely no energy, and when I didn't have the kids, I'd sleep all the way through an entire weekend, so I simply stopped taking Depakote at all about three weeks ago.

When I told my doctor a few days ago, he was angry because I could have flipped into mania or gone into a deep depression. But as it turns out I felt better than I had in years. Much of this has to do with my new diet and exercise program as well.

Upon talking with me for an hour, he told me that I sounded better than he has heard me in years, and decided to cut back on my Seroquel, Klonopin, and Ambien. This pleases me to no end, because I finally have my edge back, and I am feeling very content and confident, even in the face of several setbacks I have suffered recently.

I feel great, guys! I just might start writing something serious again...

Two Little Hitlers by Elvis Costello

2011-10-26T15:27:00.006-04:00

Why are we racing to be so old?
I'm up late pacing the floor
I won't be told
You have your reservations
I'm bought and sold

I'll face the music
I'll face the facts
Even when we walk in polka dots and chequer slacks
Bowing and squawking
Running after titbits
Bobbing and squinting
Just like a nitwit

[Chorus:]
Two little Hitlers will fight it out until
One little Hitler does the other one's will
I will return
I will not burn

Down in the basement
I need my head examined
I need my eyes excited
I'd like to join the party
But I was not invited
You make a member of me
I'll be delighted

I wouldn't cry for lost souls, you might drown
Dirty words for dirty minds
Written in a toilet town

Dial me a Valentine
She's a smooth operator
It's all so calculated
She's got a calculator
She's my soft touch typewriter
And I'm the great dictator

[Chorus:]
Two little Hitlers will fight it out until
One little Hitler does the other one's will
I will return
I will not burn

A simple game of self-respect
You flick a switch and the world goes off
Nobody jumps as you expect
I would have thought you would have had enough by now

You call selective dating
For some effective mating
I thought I'd let you down, dear
But you were just deflating
I knew right from the start
We'd end up hating
Pictures of the merchandise
Plastered on the wall
We can look so long as we don't have to talk at all

You say you'll never know him
He's an unnatural man
He doesn't want your pleasure
He wants as no one can
He wants to know the names of
All those he's better than

[Chorus]
Two little Hitlers will fight it out until
One little Hitler does the other one's will
I will return
I will not burn

I will return
I will not burn

[Repeats]

Getting back into Shape

2011-10-18T15:28:00.003-04:00

"Spider" by Bob Murphy, El Cajon, San Diego, CA

Last Sunday I joined Power House Gym in Bayside, NY, not more than fifteen minutes away from me by foot. I have not worked out in years and am severely overweight and can barely make it up a flight of stairs without gasping for air. God help me if the escalators aren’t working in the subways, because some of the stairways are steep and long.

Several years ago two discs in my lower back were herniated overtraining in Israeli Survival, a pretty brutal form of mixed martial arts. The only form of exercise I have done since then is study salsa at DanceSport in NYC, but even that was hard on my back.

I did see a podiatrist, and he gave me some basic tests. He said my discs were no longer the problem; the muscles around the injuries had restricted and needed to be stretched and strengthened. He recommended physical therapy, but it didn’t help much. Nothing has ever helped my back, and I have tried everything. The reclining bicycle is about the only cardio workout I can do.

So, last night I had my first workout. I did fifteen minutes on the reclining bicycle at level one, keeping my heart rate up at about 110 beats per minute. After that I did a few sets of stomach crunches. To my surprise, I am still able to pump out twenty pushups without breaking a sweat. My upper body must still be pretty strong, even if my cardio vascular system is barely working anymore. When I was done I did some light stretching, realizing I had lost most of my flexibility. It will take a while to get it back, and I need to do it slowly. Pushing it is the fastest way to get injured.

With my membership, I get a free session with a personal trainer. Although I am familiar with most of the machines and working with free weights, I am 53-years-old, extremely out of shape, and need an expert to design a program for me that won’t kill me.

I am looking forward to working out again, and I hope to drop thirty or forty pounds over the next six months. I just need to watch what I eat and cut sugar out of my diet. Staying away from the carbs will be difficult, but with enough discipline I can do it.

I will post pictures of my progress as time goes by.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

How to Sell Books at Book Events

2011-10-04T14:04:00.003-04:00

Most writers sit at a table with a stack of books in front of them, playing with their BlackBerrys until someone approaches them. This is fine if you are a big name and you know people will come, but if you are just starting out you need to be a lot more aggressive.

People by nature will try to ignore you as they come through the door and walk right past you. You need to get their attention immediately by holding out your hand and introducing yourself. Unless they are total assholes, they will stop to shake your hand. At this point you pick up your book and show them the cover, and then flip it over so they can read the back cover blurb. There will be questions, and you need to have answers ready with confidence. From there you always ask for the sale. The inflection in your voice and attitude makes all the difference in the world. Remember to always smile.

If they still seem disinterested, ask them to read the first page. If that draws them in then you will have a sale. I usually have a sale after they read my blurb and a few questions and answers. Sometimes I let them take the book with them and read a chapter or two, and if they are still disinterested, just drop the book off with me on the way out. I always go to events with plenty of bookmarks advertising my book and listing my website, which I give to them as they leave.

I also print full-color flyers from a template I created that has my synopsis and a few of my best reviews. Often times people will take one and then come back and buy a book. This is not hard selling, but you need to be a bit aggressive without being completely obnoxious. Lots of bookstore managers have told me that I have outsold some of their bestselling writers. It's all about attitude.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Writing Seriously

2011-10-01T21:29:00.000-04:00

When I do write, I take my work seriously. That’s why I have been an avid pen collector for many years. My favorite pen is the Fisher Space Pen. I have several models, but the most recent addition to my collection is the Space Shuttle Commemorative Edition. It really is beautiful, and I never take it out of my office, unless I am going to a book signing. These pens have an unconditional lifetime guarantee, and are pretty much indestructible.

From spacepen.com, I give you the history of Paul Fisher and his association with NASA:

Here's a little history about the Fisher Space Pen Company.
In the 1950's there were dozens of ballpoint models, and nearly every one took a different cartridge. In 1953 Paul Fisher invented the "Universal Refill" which could be used in most pens. It was a good seller, since stationery store owners could reduce their stock of assorted refills.
Not content, Paul continued to work on making a better refill. After much experimentation he perfected a refill using thixotropic ink-semisolid until the shearing action of the rolling ball liquefied it-that would flow only when needed. The cartridge was pressurized with nitrogen so that it didn't rely on gravity to make it work. It was dependable in freezing cold and desert heat. It could also write underwater and upside down. The trick was to have the ink flow when you wanted it to, and not to flow the rest of the time, a problem Fisher solved. Fisher's development couldn't have come at a more opportune time. The space race was on, and the astronauts involved in the Mercury and Gemini missions had been using pencils to take notes in space since standard ball points did not work in zero gravity. The Fisher cartridge did work in the weightlessness of outer space and the astronauts, beginning with the October, 1968 Apollo 7 mission began using the Fisher AG-7 Space Pen and cartridge developed in 1966.

The Partial

2011-09-30T14:15:00.002-04:00

"The Flying Pig"
Created by Bob Murphy, El Cajon, San Diego, CA

Last month I sank to the lowest point I had been in years. I was seriously depressed and angry over being burned by someone I thought I could trust. I got taken for almost $3,000.00. That’s a lot of money for me, and I was furious. It just goes to show that you cannot trust anyone. I have been burned by family, friends and strangers I thought were in need. No more. Trust is something that needs to be earned before I let anyone into my inner circle.

Anyway, a series of events and angry outbursts caused me to lose all my friends. Some abandoned me, and I abandoned others. At the end of it there was nobody left. I was on my own, and was seriously thinking about hurting myself. I told my doctor about what was going on, and he recommended that I do a “partial.”

A partial is where you are partially admitted to a mental clinic. You do not stay overnight, but is five days a week from 9:00 am to 3:00 pm, and entails intensive group sessions five times a day, two private sessions twice a week and meeting with your psychiatrist once a week. Participation is completely voluntary and you can stop whenever you want.

Normally these sessions go for six weeks, but my doctor suggested that I do four because of my job and my insurance might not cover the full six weeks. My first day there I managed to alienate everyone in my group by bragging about being a published author, having a great job with the state and generally talking too much, mostly about myself.

Complicating matters further, there was a young woman in my group who was a professional dancer, and having studied salsa for two years, I wrote a novella about my dance teacher who just happened to share her first name. There was no sex in the story at all, but in the last few pages the main character has a conversation about his dance teacher with his Madame, who happens to be a close friend.

Anyway, she was deeply offended by my story and took it up with her case manager. The powers that be decided that my behavior was inappropriate and made people uncomfortable, and I was transferred into another group with a bunch of retards. I felt so betrayed and angry I told my case worker I would stay just long enough to get the skills I needed to cope with my anger and depression, but there was no way in hell I was going to allow myself to be incarcerated in this program for the full four weeks. She was condescending and aggravating to say the least.

After three weeks, I had learned all that I needed to go back into regular therapy and demanded to be released. She had no choice but to process me out. She told me that part of the process was to tell three people that they affected me in a positive way and thank them. I told her that after my reputation was destroyed and I became an outcast I had no desire to have contact with anybody whatsoever, and that her request only demonstrated her total ineptitude on the whole affair, and then asked her if she knew about a Great American Novel that was published in 1951 that became the single most banned book in American history.

She had no idea what I was talking about, and then I asked her if she actually read my novella, and she told me she hadn’t because that would have been a privacy issue. Stupefied by her response, I asked her how she could judge me by something she had never seen. She said the decision had been handed down from this woman's case manager and the psychiatrist in charge of the program. I shook my head and told her that she was way too stupid to hold the job she has.

I signed all the forms necessary and left with a bitter taste in my mouth. Regardless, I learned what I needed and am doing much better now. To hell with all my old friends; I am making new ones, and I have a positive, outgoing attitude. I am nailing book events on a regular basis, and have nearly exhausted my immediate area and will have to start going regional. My publisher is very happy with my progress, and is going to continue investing in me. These are good things. Life is good.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Barnes & Noble on Rittenhouse Square in Philadelphia

2011-09-29T10:46:00.000-04:00

There are friends in my life who refuse to acknowledge my accomplishment of publishing my debut novel, and even though I have told them to read the nine glowing reviews of Swiss Chocolate on Amazon, they won’t go there, claiming they don’t have the time. I don’t know the reasoning behind this; it may be because they are jealous of my success, and don’t want to validate me. On the other hand, perhaps they just don’t give a damn.

Nailing a book event front and center at Barnes & Noble on Rittenhouse Square in Philadelphia is a very big deal. They don’t usually do this for many new writers. A lot of my friends asked me how I managed to pull off such a coup. It was a combination of luck, timing and salesmanship. Temple University is my alma mater, where I earned my B.A. in Journalism. The Journalism Department had just posted a news item that I had published my debut novel, and Jeff Cronin, a staff member at the University, agreed to distribute flyers a week before the event, which I had custom made. All of this I showed to the CRM, and she agreed to book my event. I was floored.

Beyond that, my little sister agreed to show up with all her friends, and one of my old friends who I still keep in touch with will be bringing some of his. This may be the event that puts me over the top. They ordered thirty books, and the CRM told me they get a lot of foot traffic, which is why she is putting me right at the front door. I am a very aggressive salesman, and the first thing I do when a person comes near me is extend my hand and introduce myself and my book. I always ask for the sale, but asking for the sale is all about the inflection in your voice. You need to be positive and firm. If they say no, I always ask them to read the first couple of paragraphs, telling them if they like the beginning I will sign a copy for them right now and they will have a first edition. If they still say no, I hand them a flyer to read at their convenience. My flyer contains the back cover blurb and some of my best reviews. On several occasions people have come back to buy the book.

Wish me luck this Sunday. I am looking forward to selling lots of books.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Writing from the Heart

2011-09-28T14:15:00.002-04:00

My boss, having read Swiss Chocolate and then my unpublished manuscript, El Aguila, urged me to keep writing. I simply looked at her and told her that my main priority right now must be my job, and that I simply cannot write on demand. I need to be in a full-fledged manic episode to do any serious writing, and that could put my job in jeopardy. After all, my third novel Esmeralda, weighing in at 275 pages, was written in just under three weeks. I was half out of my mind when I wrote it, but it has gone up for editorial review three times. My publisher said he would take it if I wrote out the graphic sex, but he was unwilling to give me a contract, which I took as an act of incredible bad faith. It will be published eventually.

Last night I had a discussion with my doctor about being a writer with bipolar disorder. He cut back my meds because I am overmedicated. I told him that I am missing that edge in my psyche that I need to produce. He told me that I should try writing under controlled circumstances as a discipline, without being in mania.

And herein lays my problem: I can’t write unless it comes from somewhere deep inside me. Paul Gauguin once said that art is either plagiarism or revolution. Truer words were never spoken, which is why my work defies any real category. My publisher told me that he has published a lot of fantasy and science fiction, but so much of it, although well written, were just the same old stories told from a different angle. Isn’t this true of what we see on television and at the movies these days?

He went on to tell me that Swiss Chocolate was truly unique, and in a year or two it would make the bestsellers list. In fact, he was counting on it. Although flattered, I have a long ways to go before that happens. I am, however, nailing a lot of book events. In fact, the Barnes & Noble at the Palisades Center Mall in West Nyack, NY asked me back for another event in November! Now, that’s unusual.

My doctor was also concerned that if I started writing, it would trigger a manic episode, so I am in a real catch 22 situation. One thing is for certain, I have really been neglecting my blog, and I need to be making posts every day. I will make an effort to keep up with my blog posts. And maybe this weekend I will try my hand at a short story and see if I flip out!

Love to all!

James M. Weil

September 11, 2001

2011-09-09T15:32:00.003-04:00

My career as an independent consultant specializing in Microsoft Visual FoxPro (VFP) was at its height during 2001. Things were going gangbusters, and I had more work than I could handle. I had clients all over the country, as well as Europe, and often made trips to Germany, England, France and Italy, to name just a few places I did business in.

That September DevCon 12, the biggest developer conference of the year for VFP, was being held in San Diego on the week of the 10th. I lived in San Diego back in the 80’s for ten years and had many old friends there, so I decided to leave Saturday morning and hook up with a few of them.

Of course, my wife wanted to come, but it wasn’t practical because the kids were so young, and I would be attending seminars all day for the entire week. When I got in, I gave my oldest friend a call, Ken Zeigler, and we met up at the hotel for a swim. Ken and I had some crazy times together when we were young and full of vigor. I remember a motorcycle trip we took to Baja California, where we got robbed by the Federales, and had to walk our bikes for miles in the blistering sun after we ran out of gas until we found a town with a bank. We had a lot of really wild times together, much of them involving women, booze and bonfires on the beach.

Ken is now married with two teenagers. We went to the Old Town Café and enjoyed a traditional Mexican dinner. It makes my mouth water just thinking about the food there. Mexican food in San Diego is like no other; it has a flare and a particular spiciness you will find in no other city. Ken’s wife was a little suspicious of me, considering how far back my friendship with Ken went and the times we shared, but I assured her those days were long gone, and I was a family man, just as he was.

Seeing Ken again was really wonderful, but the conference was my main priority. There was a lot to be learned, and some new features in the next version of VFP would be unveiled in the Keynote speech. There was electricity in the air Monday morning when the conference started. People were buzzing with excitement, and I carefully looked over the seminars, planning my week to get the most out of the direction I wanted to go in as a VFP developer. There were so many great sessions I couldn’t quite decide, but the one thing I was sure of was that I wanted to be moving toward an n-tier application model, where the user interface was presented with barely any business logic, with the exception of some input validation, and the business layer would be in objects separate from both the interface and the data, but would be the go-between the two.

The concept was not new, but had never been really effectively employed in VFP. Now, because of some new features in the operating system and VFP, the concept could be used with relative ease. That night after a full day of cramming my brain with knowledge I talked with several VFP developers I had gotten to know on the Universal Thread, a message board devoted to VFP developers from around the world.

It was late, and I was tired, so I decided to turn in early. The next morning I was out of bed earlier than normal because of jet lag, and I turned on the television. Almost every channel showed one of the Twin Towers in New York burning after a jet had slammed into it. I watched in disbelief, and wondered how in god’s name could something so awful happen?

And then, low over the horizon, I saw another plane approach. At first I thought I was watching a reenactment until I saw the plane slam into the other tower. And then it hit me full force: America was under attack!

I threw on some clothes and went down to the lobby. Dozens of television sets had been setup in the lobby and people were glued to them. We all stared in disbelief as the towers burned. A few minutes later another jet slammed into the Pentagon, and then another crashed in Pennsylvania.

Finally, New York’s boldest and proudest architectural achievements, the Twin Towers, collapsed into an enormous dust cloud, taking with them thousands of lives. I could not stop crying.

It took several minutes to get through to my wife. She was in tears as well. “When are you coming home?” she asked.

“I don’t know. They shut down all American airspace, so I have no idea. Try not to watch the TV all the time. It only makes it worse.”

“I can’t help it. How can anybody be so evil? Who would do something like this?” she asked.

"I don’t know, Gloria. All I can tell you is that America will never be the same again. Things will be different from now on. I will call you when I have more information about getting a flight home.”

The DevCon conference promoters decided that the week’s events should go on as planned, and I went to my seminars, but my heart wasn’t into it. Finally, I rented a car and drove around San Diego, looking at old haunts. My most poignant memory was when I drove up to Point Loma, not far from where I lived in Ocean Beach, to the Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery and walked through the rows of fallen military heroes. I was both heartbroken and scared. I knew the ramifications of what was to come.

American airspace would be closed for at least two weeks, and there would be no flights out of San Diego. If I wanted to get a flight, I would have to go to L.A. Because I could not afford to pay for an extra week at the hotel, Ken let me stay at his house until I found a flight.

At last limited American airspace opened up and I found a flight to New York. It left rather late at night. There were maybe three people on the plane. Nobody said a word the entire way home. Being on a plane so soon after a terrorist attack of that type and magnitude left me at a loss for words, but I was thankful when my flight landed safely at Kennedy Airport, and I got home to my wife and kids. Not a day goes by when I don’t think of the magnitude the Twin Towers had on the Manhattan skyline, and how much I loved those towers. But mostly I think of all those who lost their lives and the effect it had on their loved ones on that fateful day, September 11, 2001.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

The Rock

2011-08-30T15:21:00.000-04:00

Years ago, in the early 80s, my father came to visit me for a day in San Diego from New Jersey before heading up to LA to a Hewlett-Packard conference. I will never forget it. He opened his bag and pulled out a shiny-green, ocean-washed piece of granite and placed it in my hand. “I found this on the beach one morning and wanted you to have it,” he said.

It was solid, smooth and heavy and felt cool in my palm. I liked the way it felt, and could understand why my father would want me to have so simple a treasure.

Throughout the years that rock went with me to every city I traveled. It’s been almost 30 years, and I still have it. Momentarily it is in my ex-wife’s possession. She loves it just as much as I do and uses it all the time for cooking. She especially finds it useful for pounding out arepas and plantains.

The rock sits on the kitchen counter next to the stove. For now I will let her keep it, but she knows how I feel about it and its history. She, too, found it to be a very curious story—why a father would fly all the way across the country to give his son a rock he found on the beach, but of all the things my father has ever given me, that is the one thing I value most.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

This Year's Girl

2011-07-22T19:37:00.003-04:00

It’s been ages since I have posted anything on my blog. Basically, I have been going through an emotional upheaval that I feel has now subsided. A lot has happened over the last month. My book event at Noveteas was an enormous success, and my audience was very engaging as I talked openly about my experiences, disease and future plans. Special thanks go to Monmouth County Mental Health Association for coming, and I am especially thankful to Nicole of Novelteas for giving 25% of the evening’s proceeds to such a worthy cause.

My friends, it seems that DBT therapy is beyond my means momentarily. Those who are certified to practice it do not accept insurance, and I cannot afford such an enormous price for something my doctor wants me to have so strongly, but that’s how life goes.

I have done enough reading on the subject to know that I would benefit from the training immensely. It is extremely effective for treating patients with symptoms like mine. Perhaps in the future things will change.

I need to thank the people in my life who have put up with my antics over the last three months. I know I have been very difficult, and my emotions have been all over the place. Mental disease impacts everyone in your life, and takes courage, strength and brutal honesty to come to terms with it and retain a modicum of dignity. I will admit that some of my behavior has been undignified, and for that I am sorry.

Anyway, enough of this group hug horseshit. I wanted to share one of my all-time favorite songs by Elvis Costello called This Year’s Girl from the album This Year's Model, which was released in 1978. Hope you enjoy it.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Catherine Zeta-Jones Talks Openly About Her Struggle with Bipolar Disorder on NBC News

2011-07-06T16:30:00.002-04:00

Catherine Zeta-Jones is all over the media lately about her recent diagnosis of bipolar II, and now the media is jumping all over her struggle with it and what the disease really means. As far as I am concerned, this is a gift from God.

I have said it once, and I will say it again: There is nothing courageous about Catherine Zeta-Jones going public about her disease. She is a role model, a gifted actress and a loving mother and wife. She has a moral obligation to raise awareness of this disease to others, so ordinary people who suffer from it don’t need to be stigmatized.

Catherine is very high-functioning. There are many who cannot function at all with bipolar disorder, although the spectrum is broad. The two major classifications are bipolar I and bipolar II. Bipolar I is much more serious and most manic episodes will land you in the hospital. People with bipolar II suffer from hypo-mania, a much less severe form, although sometimes these bouts can be very serious.

In 2004 I was diagnosed with bipolar I after a manic episode that was so severe that I completely destroyed my marriage, career and home for a woman I barely knew in another country. It was severe enough that I landed in the emergency room of Northshore University Hospital after writing Swiss Chocolate and El Aguila in under a year.

Not so long ago my diagnosis was changed from bipolar I to bipolar II with personality disorder NOS (Not Otherwise Specified), with histrionic and borderline features, more prominent on the borderline side.

I am getting a lot of treatment, and am very proactive about managing my disease. It is not easy, but I thank Catherine for coming out and doing an enormous public service by talking openly about her disease and what it is like to suffer with it. Kudos to you, Catherine Zeta-Jones!

Love to all!

James M. Weil

A Whole New Approach to Therapy

2011-07-06T10:29:00.009-04:00

My doctor and I met last night and decided it was best to start Dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT) therapy right away and not wait for a spot to open up in the four-week, intensive workshop. DBT therapy is used to treat patients who suffer from borderline personality disorder. Although my main diagnosis is bipolar II, my secondary diagnosis is personality disorder NOS (Not Otherwise Specified) with borderline and histrionic traits.

DBT therapy has been very successful, and was developed to help patients deal with their inability to cope with their emotions, interpersonal skills and anger. In most cases, borderline personality disorder is brought on by early childhood trauma. As patients grow older, many unresolved hurt feelings manifest themselves in inappropriate behavior and persistent thoughts of suicide, and those with the worst cases have made several suicide attempts or engage in self-mutilation.

Although I do have strong, pervasive thoughts of suicide, I have never attempted it, but I have reached a point in my life where my self-awareness has never been stronger, and I realize how much I am in dire need of help. I am consumed with rage. My doctor and I talk about it all the time. I am not dangerous. If I were, he would have done something about it by now, but these thoughts and feelings are overpowering. I act out on my anger in non-violent ways, such as making horrible facebook posts about people who I am pissed at, or send out such vitriolic hate mail that my recipients want nothing to do with me again. My interpersonal skills also need a hell of a lot of work.

The DBT therapy would consist of two sessions a week—a group session and a private. Then of course I would have regular sessions with my therapist to treat my bipolar disorder, and my psychiatrist would continue to regulate my meds. I could get the four week program outside system I am at, but that would mean losing my doctor and therapist, which is not something I am anxious to do. My therapist is one of the best I have had in years, and we have made a lot of breakthroughs lately.

My doctor and I discussed the idea of going after the root of all the pain and surgically removing it. That's when the discussion got interesting. He told me that would require several years of psychoanalysis at least two or three times a week.

Although it was an option, it wouldn’t give me the coping skills to deal with my emotions in the here and now. By giving me the skills to maintain control over my psyche, I would eventually come to terms with what is inside me, and perhaps then the hurting would finally go away. Remember, hurt turns to anger, anger to rage and rage turns to vengeance. Who the hell wants to live like that? I am 53 years old, and it’s time for this bullshit to stop.

Unlike so many who suffer from mental disease, I am not in denial about my condition but embrace it, and then work my ass off with my doctors to find ways to cope. I guess that’s why I am so high-functioning. I have a high-paying job with The State of New York as a software engineer, and I get glowing reviews each year. I have written three novels and managed to get one traditionally published. Asking for a girlfriend may be a little much right now, but it’s best that I focus on myself and find my center. (Sorry ladies--this lunatic is off the market until he gets his head screwed on straight. :)

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Rage

2011-06-27T12:12:00.002-04:00

My doctor and I discussed my goals that I wanted to achieve from participating in the intensive four-week program for treating personality disorders, and I told him my biggest goal was to finally let go of all this rage that consumes my spirit.

He told me that it was an unreasonable expectation because rage was an integral component of my psyche. It is one of the reasons I was diagnosed with personality disorder. He told me that I would be given the skills to manage it better, but he didn’t realize the extent of my rage until I laid it out for him in detail.

Although I am a completely nonviolent person and have never struck anyone in anger, with the exception of being forced to defend myself on the streets on a couple of occasions, I have extremely violent thoughts several times a day that are filled with so much rage that sometimes I bite down on my lower lip until it bleeds.

When I told my doctor this, he became extremely concerned. He never realized the extent of my rage. At this point I don’t even know what triggers it. It doesn’t have to be anything in particular. It could be an old memory of someone who mistreated me, or someone who recently pissed me off.

I will never act on my thoughts. I would simply never physically hurt another human being in anger, but my anger comes out in so many other destructive ways; namely, the way I treat others. I have a mean streak a mile wide and I do know how to hurt with words.

My question is do I want to spend the rest of my life learning how to deal with so much rage that rips me apart? What will it take to control these extremely powerful emotions that have been a part of my psyche since I was a teenager? Perhaps my best option is to simply say no. Rage is a poison, and with it I will never experience true joy or happiness. The last half of my life will be a battle against a disease I cannot win, and as a result, I will never find peace. The best I can hope for is balance, but true happiness will always be out of reach with all this rage coursing through my psyche. These are serious questions that need to be answered. My doctor seems to think it's just a condition, like living with diabetes, and that it can be controlled and managed. We'll see. There is a huge difference between a physical ailment and mental disease.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Book Event at Novelteas in Red Bank, NJ

2011-06-25T17:39:00.003-04:00

Join me at Novelteas in Red Bank, NJ on July 7, from 7:00 pm until 9:00 pm as we enjoy a relaxing evening of fine chocolate, some of the best tea you will ever find, and a book signing of my debut novel, Swiss Chocolate!

You can get to Novelties by taking NJ Transit out of Penn Station to Red Bank. Novelties is literally right acorss the street from the train station.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Book Event at Bay Plaza, Bronx Barnes & Noble

2011-06-24T21:02:00.002-04:00

Join me at the Barnes & Noble at Bay Plaza, Bronx on August 25 from 7:00 pm until 9:00 pm for a book signing. This is the second event I have booked this week, and I may have a third coming. Hopefully I will see all my fans from Flushing and Bayside there as well.

Be sure to check my website for upcoming events at www.jamesweil.com

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Blogger is Broken

2011-06-23T06:46:00.000-04:00

Just recently I have found that I can't post to my blog using my Google ID. It puts me in an endless loop where I have to keep signing in when I try to post.

I looked up the problem on Blogger Help, and it seems there are a lot of people who are suffering from this problem, but I did not find a solution. I hope they find one soon, because leaving comments with my Google ID is the best way to get my name and profile out there.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

When Dreams Come True

2011-06-22T12:40:00.010-04:00

I finished writing Swiss Chocolate in September 2004. From there it went through several months of editing. It took a year to find an agent, and I finally found a publisher in 2009, but the book didn’t come out until January 2011. That’s a huge investment in time and energy, but my agent and I never gave up.

I remember when I first finished Swiss Chocolate and it had gone through its first round of editing. I was living in Douglaston, NY at the time, but spent a lot of time at the Barnes & Noble in Manhasset, Long Island. I remember telling the Community Relations Manager that someday I would have a book event at her store. She simply smiled at me and wished me good luck.

Today, the Community Relations Manager at Barnes & Noble in Manhasset, Long Island set up a book event for me on Thursday, September 22 from 7:00 pm until 9:00 pm. This is my dream come true. That particular store I really love, and the clientele are usually a little more sophisticated, which is better for me because Swiss Chocolate has a lot of intertwining, overarching themes that weave throughout the entire story, giving it a level of complexity that an average reader may miss.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Swiss Chocolate Gets Another Five-Star Review on Amazon

2011-06-21T16:36:00.002-04:00

I have a total of eight 5-star reviews on Amazon, which floors me, because I never expected to be taken so seriously by the few people who have read my debut novel. Thanks to all for your support!
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This book kept me up all night to finish. It made me so sad at times but I truly enjoyed it and find myself thinking about some of the characters in the novel. For anyone who grew up with a drunken parent, many of the experiences will ring true and regretfully seem normal. I loved reading about the adventures in Europe and felt like I was there with him. Very compelling. I highly recommend it. -- March 1, 2011
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Taking a chance on reading an unknown writer is always a little scary. You just have no real clue as to whether the book you have chosen to spend considerable time with is going to be worth it. In this case, this novel really comes through. . The young inexperienced Drew Smith falls head over heels for the beautiful and charming Alexandra.Unfortunately, school and family problems conspire to bring huge obstacles to this relationship.The story moves quickly and is enhanced by scenic travel,colorful characters and some good humor too.Swiss Chocolate is a delicious treat! Try it soon. -- June 21, 2011
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Swiss Chocolate was an excellent book. I couldn't put it down. Fictionalized memoir of coming of age and growing up with old money. James has a true art for writing. I truly enjoyed his attention to detail, making me feel like I was with him throughout the story. -- May 24, 2011
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Swiss Chocolate is the type of American novel that is difficult to put down. Once you start, you are in for a deeply moving adventure of love and coming of age.

James Weil is a master of character development and human relations. Drew Smith, a troubled though gifted and sincere lad from a semi-functional, suburban NJ upper-middle class home--tennis club, private schools, alcoholic mom and philandering engineer-businessman father. There is "old money" in this family. Alexandra is an Italian aristocratic beauty: graceful, independent and determined to maintain what is rightfully hers. Weil's depiction of their family lives, environments and social class is extraordinarily well done. Weil has a sociological gift. I especially enjoyed Drew's Aunt Tess, an artist and cosmopolitan. We all should have an Aunt Tess in our lives.

The action takes place in the Swiss Alps, suburban New Jersey, London, Oxford, Rome, Greece, Spain and Padua. Weil makes these locations come alive.

I identified with Drew's struggle to become a man and a writer, notwithstanding the betrayal of his callous father and the despair of his helpless mom. Alexandra deals with her loving father's early death and the resulting insanity and self-destructiveness of her mother. Her brother, at her mother's insistence, assumes all the power and wealth in the family. Alexandra is determined to make a new life, defying the social mores of her class and society. She will not be undercut by fate. The powerful interaction between Drew and his first love, Alexandra, makes the book riveting. A must read. -- March 24, 2011
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'Swiss Chocolate' is a great book.....among the best I've read in awhile. Honest, straight-forward, exciting and tragic. The Author has a simple, yet elegant style. He is very open about Drew's life in a dysfunctional family and his love of Alexandra, that spans decades. He has a gift for expressing intricate details of the beautiful places he travels. You feel like you're right there with him on his journey. I highly recommend it. -- March 12, 2011
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A brutally honest fictional memoir about a young man's coming-of-age and, years later, the same man in middle age coming to terms with his past. Compelling, exhilarating, tragic. Dealing with first loves, childhood, marriage and life's dreams, this is a book for everyone. I couldn't put it down. Highly recommend. -- March 2, 2011
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The name of the novel has nothing to do with how to make or even eat chocolate. Was I bummed? No I was shocked. But being lucky enough to know the author, James Weil as a Facebook buddy, I should have expected it. Be forewarned, this is some intense and in your face material. What is between the covers of this novel- to the synopsis:

"Drew Smith, a teenager from a wealthy family in New Jersey, is sent to a Swiss Boarding School and falls in love with Alexandra Cavalletti, a beautiful, aristocratic girl from Rome. The innocence of their love affair turns disastrous when they are expelled after being caught in the middle of their young passion. Drew returns home to his dysfunctional family and Alexandra's life is affected when her mother goes insane and sells off the family fortune for a song. Despite their travails, Drew and Alexandra remain in contact and cross paths over the years. Drew never really let's go of her, even though she moves on."

During the summer I was fortunate enough to get a glimpse of James' writing when he shot me over a short story he had written, so I had an inkling as to what was to come. His writing is intense, heartfelt and brutally honest, laying it out there for all to see .For some that is hard to read let alone to write. I am going to say this is a daring move, exposing such deep feelings to so many people. The thing is, if you get to know the guy, you will see that he does that on a daily basis, he wears it all on his sleeve, good or bad, for everyone to consume, kudos. His novel is a mirror reflection of himself: raw, uncensored, and brutally honest. That is the reason for the five stars: total and complete honesty of self. I don't believe I have read it to this degree before. To believe what I've written, go to his Facebook page, become his friend, experience James Weil and then decide if I am not point on here. I am just trying to be honest. -- March 2, 2011
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I tore through this contemporary mainstream novel which tells of a romance spanning nearly 40 years between a young, aristocratic girl from Rome, and an upper-class American from Rumson, New Jersey. Set against the backdrop of political and economic turmoil that so strongly affected ideals and lives from the early 1970's through the turn of the millennium, this book spans six countries telling an emotionally-poignant tale of the human struggle to find happiness and one's natural place amongst all the change. James Weil tells a story that reminds us of the fragility of beauty in life, and the importance of protecting perfection when we find it, and how so often, perfection is there, but our eyes and minds are too narrow to see. -- March 1, 2011
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Pretty damn good for a first novel. Click here to buy Swiss Chocolate from Amazon!

Love to all!

James M. Weil

A Radical Change to my Diagnosis

2011-06-17T10:04:00.005-04:00

I was diagnosed with bipolar I back in 2004 by the psychiatric clinic at Northshore University Hospital after a serious manic episode that completely destroyed me. Although I didn’t land in the hospital, I came close. Instead, I sat down and wrote Swiss Chocolate and El Aguila back to back. Yesterday my doctor told me my diagnosis had been changed to bipolar II, anxiety and personality disorder NOS (Not Otherwise Specified).

At first I was floored, and didn’t know how to accept this news, and asked him to please explain what this meant. He told me that although my manic episodes were severe, they were not the kind that landed me in the hospital, like so many of the guys in my group went through. I argued that during some of my manic episodes I was completely off the rails. He agreed, but a large part of what I was expressing was symptomatic of personality disorder. Then he broke it down further.

He explained that there are many classifications of personality disorder, and I did not fit neatly into any particular one, but the ones I came closest to were histrionic personality disorder and borderline personality disorder, more on the borderline side. It is a condition that is usually triggered by intense trauma, like the kind I had grown up with. He further explained that trauma was not the only cause, and that it had biochemical aspects to it just like bipolar disorder. He went on to explain that many of my intense emotional responses to situations and people, my lack of impulse control and intense rage were all symptoms of borderline personality disorder, but I was not fully diagnosed with this condition because I don’t have all the symptoms, and the symptoms I do exhibit are not severe enough to classify me with borderline personality disorder. If my diagnosis was borderline personality disorder, he told me that I would probably be institutionalized and would never have achieved the kind of success I now have. Most people with this condition cannot function in society.

Having read Swiss Chocolate and working with me for the last few years, he was actually quite surprised I had become so successful in such a demanding job. He then told me that the clinic had treatment plans for these symptoms. It is an intensive four-week program consisting of two group sessions and two private sessions with a therapist a day, as well as meeting with your psychiatrist twice a week designed to help you with controlling your emotions and how you deal with others. Considering where I was at, he felt very hopeful because:

a) I was not bipolar I, which made my prognosis much more treatable
b) My personality disorder symptoms were treatable with an excellent success rate
c) I would be able to focus on the areas that were causing the most problems

Previously, my doctor had been following a protocol for treating bipolar disorder, but I noticed I was getting worse, not better. I had destroyed a lot of friendships, and I was becoming more discouraged and despondent. In fact, my impulse control was so bad I had to deactivate my facebook account. I don’t go there under any circumstances. Too dangerous, and a lot of people are scared of me or don’t like me anymore because of some of the terrible things I have done to others in fits of rage.

One of my good friends and I had a long talk about all this last night. Like me, at first he was a little skeptical. He has told me dozens of times that my greatest gift was to accurately assess my mental well being and get help when I need it, which explains why I have stayed out of hospitals. He has seen me when I was pretty manic, and yeah, I was off the rails, but that doesn’t explain the lack of impulse control and rage. Part of being manic is increased irritability and getting into fights with others, but what I was going through was full-on rage and no impulse control. On many occasions I whipped out some venomous emails that were so vitriolic they left my victims stunned. And I have made some outrageous facebook posts that have scared people away from me for good. Everybody knows how angry I am.

My doctor is convinced that my rage can be brought under control with the right treatment. It would mean taking four weeks off from work to go through an intensive program five days a week from 9:00 am until 3:00 pm, but I am all for it, and yesterday my doctor verified that my insurance covered it. My boss has told me on several occasions to take the time off I need to get myself right, but I kept saying no because I didn’t know what the right course of action was. Now I do, and I am hoping I finally find the coping skills to deal with my emotions and interactions with others.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Book Event

2011-06-12T12:39:00.000-04:00

For those of you who live in upstate New Jersey and New York, I invite you to come to my book event at Barnes & Noble at the Palisades Center Mall in West Nyack, NY from 2:00 until 5:00 pm, June 19^th. This event should be fun because the Barnes & Noble is on the fourth floor where all the restaurants are, and after the event we can all get together and enjoy a great meal with old and new friends.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Amazon Takes Over the World!

2011-06-10T09:40:00.006-04:00

It came as no surprise to anyone at Book Expo America when Amazon announced that they will be going into the publishing business. After all, they have been recruiting new talent for specific jobs for weeks. It was only a question of time. They have already setup several new imprints for non-fiction titles. Everyone is waiting with bated breath to see what their next move will be.

But what does this mean to the big brick and mortar houses that can’t compete with Amazon’s sheer size, and the fact that readers have been forever changed by the way they buy and read books with Kindles and eBooks? It means many of the old fuddy-duddy, arrogant editors who sit in Ivory Tours and reject one author after another and pay pennies on the dollar for all the authors’ hard work and creativity will be looking for secretarial jobs, or become agents and try to sell new talent to Amazon, who will surely corner the book publishing market in a matter of months.

You will be seeing many publishing houses fold, but the smaller ones will probably take the biggest hit. When Borders closed the majority of their stores, the smaller publishers got nailed the hardest because Borders loved working with small, independent publishers. And the way things are going, I don’t see how Barnes & Noble can compete with Amazon either. They are being swallowed by the leviathan’s enormous distribution network, the fact that they lead the market in eBooks, and that by publishing their own titles, they would pretty much leave everyone strapped and hogtied.

Amazon does discount their books by a wide margin, but said that when they start publishing, they would be paying their authors roughly 30 percent, which is astonishingly generous. So, even though they may charge $9.00 per book, the author would get an enormous percentage of that, making it more attractive to agents and authors.

Be prepared folks. We are facing a literary revolution. There will be blood baths and many casualties. My first novel, Swiss Chocolate, published by Daily Swan Publishing, may be forced out of print before it has a chance to become successful. My publisher is very small and hanging on by a thread. He runs his company on a wing and a prayer, but still manages to get books out. I pray that he makes it, because I don’t want to shop Swiss Chocolate all over again. In fact, I just may not, and let it go being happy that I was good enough to get published.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

On Writing Swiss Chocolate Slips off into the Sunset

2011-06-07T17:43:00.001-04:00

As much as I hate it, my post "On Writing Swiss Chocolate" is destined to slip off my "Popular Posts" sidebar. I have been watching the stats for weeks, and the daily, weekly and monthly counts all point to the retirement of my very first post, and probably one of my favorites.

This is how it goes, but it may be revived. Old posts that never received that much attention are now getting a lot of hits. Fascinating.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

When Friends Take Advantage

2011-06-07T12:03:00.004-04:00

I saw my oldest friend recently. I haven’t seen her in almost a month ever since I anonymously trashed her grandson for making a post on his Facebook wall about hacking into people’s accounts.

The whole thing got so out of hand that the kid’s mother and sister jumped into the fray, and then I took the entire post down. I was pretty frazzled by what happened, and had been suffering from depression for quite some time, so I decided to check myself into the inpatient psychiatric clinic for a few days, just to disconnect my mind from the situation.

When I got home I found my spare keys taped to my door, meaning my relationship with her was over. She didn’t bother to come talk to me; she just slapped my keys on the door and left. She actually put me in danger, because if somebody had come by and seen them, they could have let themselves into my apartment and cleaned me out.

So, I saw her sitting on the park bench in front of my building a few days ago. She said to me I didn’t need to be cold to her. I told her that I preferred a clean break, and for as long as I had known her, I had bought her a pack of cigarettes a day, often bought food, and helped out in any way possible.

All that’s over now. She is not in my life, and I can focus more on taking care of myself. I took better care of her than her miserable husband did. When his appendix burst and he almost died, I paid for his TV and phone for an entire week. I also went to see him almost every day, and shaved him when his beard got too thick. I took care of his wife because she had no money while he was in the hospital. I was the only one of anybody he knew who went to visit him. Not even his best friend, who was staying at his apartment, would go see him, because he is such a miserable, bigoted son-of-a-bitch. Nobody, and I mean nobody, wanted to visit him in the hospital, and barely anybody called.

When he got out he was on disability for months, and I continued taking care of them, but once he got his health back he became a miserable prick again, and started treating me like shit.

These are people I don’t need in my life. Although she was a wonderful friend, whenever I was down there, I had to put up with her miserable husband. No more. I am not a doormat, although I will always be kind and generous with those I love.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Book Sales

2011-06-03T23:19:00.005-04:00

I am shocked that my blog gets so many hits. I average between 700 and 800 hits per week, and all I do is write what’s in my head and heart. You would think that some of those hits would translate into book sales, but that simply is not the case, despite the fact that my top three blog posts are “Swiss Chocolate Continues to be Painful” and “On Writing Swiss Chocolate,” which happens to be the very first post I ever made.

Recently my agent sent me some references for some reputable book PR firms in New York. One would not take me because she did not work with unknown fiction writers. She specialized in non-fiction, but took on some established fiction writers as well. She looked at my blog and had no idea how to turn all those hits into book sales either, and told me to give her a call if I figured it out. Of course I was discouraged, but I had a few more agencies to contact.

Last week I contacted another well-know PR firm, and she really liked my blog, the fact that there was such a strong emotional connection between my reason for writing the book, and the bipolar angle. She asked me for a copy of my manuscript, which I sent her, and then she went up to Amazon and read all seven of my glowing 5-star reviews. She is very interested in working with me on a six-week intensive PR blitz, getting my name in front of as many people as she possibly can.

Now, even though there is a link to my author page from the top of my blog menu, I average between five and six hits per day on jamesweil.com. Go figure. My blog gets hundreds of hits per day and my author site gets almost nothing. And I use GoDaddy’s Web Site Visibility package, which I put a lot of work into setting up. I also have Web Site Analytics, which can track visitors all the way down to their zip codes. I think it’s time to update my Web Site Visibility settings because my site has changed recently. This surpises the hell out of me because aside from a book sample from Swiss Chocolate, you will find samples of some of my best writing. There are synopses of two of my best unpublished novels and book samples to go along with them. One of my short stories, Harmony House, recently won first place in a nationwide short story contest sponsored by my publisher. That has to be of interest to some, no?

Also my bounce rate is about 60%, meaning people look at my home page and leave right away. The most popular exit link? My blog, of course! Fascinating. People would rather read my blog than go to Amazon and buy my book. How in God’s name do I change that? Public Relations, book events, patience and persistence. My publisher told me sales are steady, and to not give up.

I will keep plugging away, and hopefully I will build a name for myself. Getting reviewed is difficult, especially since I don’t have any author copies. Long story, and quite sad. I am thankful to those who come and read my musings. I put my heart into everything I write, and I laud any writer who can get traditionally published. It’s an honor few people get, and I am damn lucky to be one of them, considering there are more than a million manuscripts floating around looking for agents and publishers. And all told, last year there were 700,000 books published. That’s a hell of a lot of competition. I urge you to go up Amazon, take a look at my reviews, and buy a copy of Swiss Chocolate. It’s a great story, and has an interesting history. If you have an eReader, you can buy an eBook in any format you want from Scribd.com.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Do E-Cigarettes Really Work?

2011-05-30T19:58:00.004-04:00

Once New York City raised the price of cigarettes to $12.00 a pack, I decided it was time to try an alternative. I had seen many people with e-cigarettes, and those I talked to who had one swore by them, although they claimed the batteries easily burned out. So, I decided to do a little bit of research.

E-cigarettes were developed and manufactured in China. The technology is quite simple really. A rechargeable battery is used to atomize propylene glycol and nicotine into a vapor that delivers a hit of nicotine that feels a lot like you are smoking. I have to say, at first I loved them more than cigarettes, because they are oderless, tasted just like my favorite brand of cigarettes, and I didn’t have to leave my office whenever I wanted to smoke. Even better, when I flew down to Miami last winter, airport security let me take it on the plane and I even smoked during the flights going down and coming up, because nobody complained.

After researching several companies on the internet, I realized there were a lot of scams out there, and I didn’t know which company I should go with. Finally, my boss got in touch with her daughter who had been dealing with a reputable company for a while, and really liked their products. I ordered a USB charger, a battery and twenty “five-packs” of nicotine cartridges for a total of $240.00. The cartridges come in several different flavors and levels of nicotine. I decided to start out with 16mg, which is one step lower than the top amount of 21 mg. A single cartridge is about a pack and a half of cigarettes.

Unfortunately, I burnt out three batteries in a matter of months, but by this time I found that my throat was very raspy, I had a terrible hack and it hurt to talk. It has been several days since I have used them, and my voice and throat are still not right. I think the biggest problem with e-cigarettes is that they are more addicting than regular cigarettes because they are much more available. Simply put, it is very easy to pick it up and take a few drags. If you can monitor your usage, you may do better than I did, but I found myself smoking the damn things constantly, until I actually found myself completely sick of them, and was glad when my final battery burned out.

Several things had happened. One, I weaned myself off my $12.00-a-pack cigarette habit for good; two, I had found a viable alternative to smoking them; and three, I finally gave up nicotine altogether. So, as far as I am concerned the damn things work, although there is still a lot of investigation about the health concerns of e-cigarettes, their efficacy and their impact on the environment.

I recommend them if you are really committed to giving up nicotine for good. They will get you off cigarettes. It’s the closest thing to smoking them without all the combustibles and carcinogens, but they can also be very addicting. The only reason why I quit them was because they were ruining my throat and voice, and I was also running very low on cartridges and didn’t feel like spending a lot of money on something I felt I didn’t need or want anymore.

Good luck with your efforts to quit smoking. It's not easy I know, but e-cigarettes did it for me.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Sleepless Nights

2011-05-27T05:05:00.003-04:00

It’s 4:30 am. Not a good thing, and can only mean that trouble is brewing. With the amount of medication I am on I should always sleep through the night, but the fact that I didn’t means my circadian rhythms are changing.

This could be due to stress, or I was simply awakened by a bad dream. If it had been a bad dream I would have remembered it. I always remember my nightmares. So, what does this all mean? It means I could be teetering on the edge of a major manic episode, depending how many sleepless nights I go through in a row.

Sleep is the single most important thing you can do for bipolar disorder, and it is extremely important that you stick to a regular sleep pattern no matter what. Once you go off your sleep pattern you are asking for trouble, and if you are doing it involuntarily you need to talk to your doctor. There is not a hell of a lot more that he can do for me to help me sleep as far as medication is concerned. I am maxed out on Ambien and Klonopin, and there are a slew of other drugs I take to keep me stabilized.

Perhaps this was just a single bad night, and I will sleep well tonight when I get home. The problem is that if I go to work overtired, my system will overreact and push me into hyper drive. It’s a snowball effect, and can be incredibly dangerous if you don’t stay on top of it.

This is the last thing I need, but on the other hand, I have several books roiling around in my psyche that are itching to come out, so maybe a really good manic episode will give me the creative explosion I need to put one of them down on paper.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Taking Responsibility

2011-05-26T12:00:00.000-04:00

There are times when living with bipolar disorder becomes so unbearable it seems like it is not worth the effort. My doctor and therapist are working hard with me to keep me stable and focused, but beyond suffering from just bipolar disorder, I am plagued with horrible demons that tear at my soul from an abusive childhood.

The combination of these two factors makes it difficult for others to deal with me at times, and I have to admit there are times I don’t like dealing with myself either. I have done things that I am not proud of. I have hurt those who I have loved with all my heart, only because they didn’t love me the way I wanted and rejected me. I have a tendency to lash out at those who have hurt me or who I feel have done me wrong with viscous words and actions.

Much of this has to do with how I was raised and what I endured as a child, but my instability of suffering from bipolar disorder doesn’t help much either. Really what it boils down to is choices. With enough self-discipline and focus I can choose how I want to react to certain situations without causing so much damage. That’s the God’s honest truth. There comes a time when a man must take responsibility for his actions, no matter what obstacles he faces in life.

Although I suffer from a debilitating mental disease, things could be far worse. I could be stricken with cancer of some other life-threatening disease. Instead, I simply need to ride out the wild mood swings I go into, and hope to God I don’t wreak to much havoc. I have lost several good friends because of some recent manic episodes where I was completely off the rails. Some of these friendships went back for years, and at this point I really don’t know if they can be repaired.

It’s a damn shame when a man throws away all those who are closest to him, only because he can’t control his impulses and is driven by demons from his past, and the instability of a mental disease that can be managed.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Russian Scam Artists

2011-05-23T11:04:00.002-04:00

Elizaveta

Do you remember the Nigerian scams that were so utterly ridiculous that you hardly believed anybody could possibly fall for them? Well, believe it or not, there were a surprising number of people who got suckered by these obvious scams and had lost thousands.

Now there is a new scam coming out of Russia from young women posing to be in love with you and send you email after email with intriguing pictures of innocent, good-looking young women until they finally hit you with the proposal that you wire transfer them money so they can get a visa to come see you.

I am certain there are a lot of desperate, lonely men out there who will fall for these traps. Some people are born suckers, but what it boils down to is that they are looking for a way out of the loneliness that eats them alive, and are simply looking for love.

Below is the latest email I have gotten from the same woman everyday for the last two months. She is relentless and won’t take no for an answer. I am certain the pictures are not of her either. I suggest we all send her an email and play with her head. That’s what I have been doing ever since she started all this. I have to admit, it’s rather fun, and I am sure she is starting to get frustrated, but, like I said, she won’t take no for an answer.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

____________________

Hello my dearest one how are you today? As for me I am not really in the mood.
I have a feeling that I did something wrong.
I have never thought this could happen to me. That I could fell in love with the person I
have never seen in my life.

I want to less the distance between us so much, to take your hand, to look into your eyes
and to see that you understand my naive soul.
I know I shouldn't be so open. I have to be strong and keep everything inside.
I am too emotional but I don't want you to be scared and run away.
If I could be closer to you and if I could show you my feelings.
I want you so much to see me, to feel my touch. I would kiss your eyes and say how I love you.

Again I am acting like a silly little girl. I am mad at myself. But at the same time I can't stop. I want you to know my feelings. I even thought of coming to you. And I have even went the tourist agency to check about the visas.

And now I know that the best way for me to come to you is to get a tourist visa. It will not take much time.
And they told me at the tourist agency that I have a very good chance to get it. And it is a very good reason for giving me a visa.

I've checked that a visa and all documents will cost $400. (International passport, police report, medical documents (about my health status), documents from my work and credit report, visa)

You know with my salary I just can't afford it. And I will need your help. It's up to you, of course. But I really hope you will be able to help me with getting visa.

Please, think about it and let me know. But if you can please send some extra for food and etc... Do you want me to come to you? Do you want to meet with me at last? I want it very much. Hope you too. I will give you the information for the case you decide to do it.

The best way to send money is to do it via MoneyGram or Western Union. It is an easy and quick way to get it. It is necessary to know the full name of receiver.

My full name is Elizaveta Guseva.
Saint-Petersburg, Russia

And after sending money, the one who is getting money should know an Reference number (for Money Gram) - 8 digits,
MTCN (Money Transfer Control Number) - 10 digits and the sum of money that was sent and the full name of the sender and the city where you are living.

Also you can send money on-line!!! (please visit http://www.moneygram.com and http://www.westernunion.com and for more information)

Well, I hope that you will think on this information. You have lots of food for thought. Please, write me as soon as possible. I am waiting for your reply.

Love you.

P.S. You can send money to any Money Gram or Western Union of Saint-Petersburg, Russia. Here is the closest Money Gram and Western Union office:

URALSIB BANK
VOZNESENSKII PROSPEKT, 34
Saint-Petersburg, 190031, Russia

P.P.S. Also I have asked to copy the following instruction for you: While you're sending the wire transfer you might be asked to provide information concerning transfer purpose and destination. In order to speed up the process please reply that these funds are sent to your friend, relative, business partner and etc.

Please do specify that the receiver is known by you personally and also note that these funds are your own money. Main reason for this request is financial regulations in receiver s country, so be serious and answer teller s questions carefully because incorrect answers could cause a significant delay for the wire to be processed.

P.P.P.S check my new pics http://photostoshare.com/?/users/blond2010

Elizaveta Guseva
lapalady2010@gmail.com

On Friendship

2011-05-17T20:27:00.003-04:00

Friendship is about love, trust, forgiveness and understanding. It is about giving your all to another because you want them to succeed and be happy. The things you do for your friends must come from the heart, without expectations, or even gratitude. In other words, your intentions must be pure, and the love you give must be unconditional.

Sometimes these waters get a little muddy, and serious miscommunications and misunderstandings occur, creating enormous friction. That’s when tempers flare and things can get ugly. We all have expectations of others in all our relationships, no matter what kind of relationship it may be—platonic, romantic or simply professional.

Sometimes these expectations cloud our judgment of what another is capable or willing to give. The bottom line is that you must be sensitive toward other’s feelings, and not push too hard when they cannot take being pushed, or allow them space when they feel they are being crowded.

It’s a question of love. Love comes in so many forms, and often it becomes corrupted when we are not paying attention to what’s going on inside our heads and hearts, and the needs of the ones we care about most. It’s so easy to get wrapped up in your own personal problems, and take them out on people who are closest to you.

Friendship is about sharing. Sharing what’s in your heart and soul. Without a doubt there is a bit of risk involved, and people do get hurt, mostly not by callous actions, but by misunderstood expectations. We all have limitations, and the ones we love must learn to work with them and around them. This is how you build trust, and without it, there can be no friendship. And without friendship, there can be no love.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

River Road Books

2011-05-13T19:26:00.000-04:00

I am sorry to announce that one of the partners at River Road Books in Fair Haven, NJ had a death in the family, and that my book event, scheduled for this Saturday, May 14, will be rescheduled for Saturday, May 21 from noon until 2:00 pm.

Sorry for the inconvenience, and hope to see you there.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Martial Arts as A Way of Life

2011-05-11T14:59:00.024-04:00

Moti Horenstein

Rey Leal

The older I get, the more self-aware I become, and I realize the importance of protecting myself from those who would do me harm on a spiritual, emotional and physical level. Being an abused child, my spirit had been crushed and my self-esteem demolished. In my early twenties I was just a shell of a man with no direction and someone who was really hurting.

I remember when I decided to get into martial arts as a way of dealing with all my pain and anger. It just so happened I joined one of the top Kenpo dojos in Southern California. The training was intense and brutal, and on top of it I worked heavy construction as a tile setter. I was built like a brick shithouse and I did learn how to fight. Most people who joined the studio didn't last more than two weeks; the training was simply too intense for most guys to handle, and Monday night conditioning classes went for three hours, often running in the soft sand for nearly five miles before going back to the studio and doing endless calisthenics, then working the heavy bags until you were on the verge of puking your guts out. It was common knowledge that eating before Monday night training was a huge mistake. We were a small, but incredibly dedicated group of guys who were fiercely devoted to the training.

My instructor, Rey Leal, was a very intense man and an international point sparring champion. He brutalized me more than anyone I had ever dealt with. I took it for almost ten years, not knowing the man was abusing me. He belittled me, picked on me, and often gave me black eyes or laid me flat on my back when we sparred. He was relentless in the way he singled me out and made my life miserable, until finally I told him I had enough of his shit and was quitting. He simply looked up at me and said, “You needed to be spanked, so I just gave you what you needed. Now you don’t need it anymore. Walk with your head high and be proud of who you are. When you are ready to come back, let me know.”

I never did go back. Just too many bad memories of all the abuse I took. His way of teaching was far too brutal, but I did learn a valuable lesson: Those who are hurting wear their pain on their sleeves and bring negative attention. Those who are strong in spirit are respected and have positive relationships. He could have taught me these values without playing so many head games and beating the living daylights out of me.

A few years after I quit he closed down his studio in Ocean Beach and retired from teaching, taking on only private students out of his home in Chula Vista. I have tried several times to get hold of him, but so far I have been unsuccessful.

Years later, when I was in my early forties, and the onset of my disease was just beginning, I got into Israeli Survival, probably the deadliest form of mixed martial arts I have ever seen. My instructor, Moti Horenstein, is an internationally-known professional fighter, and holds World Titles in five different styles of martial arts. He was also the Heavy Weight Champion of Israel for three years in a row before coming to America. It was quite common to see him come walking into the studio with black eyes, broken fingers or toes, and contusions all over his body. He lived to fight and loved any kind of challenge.

He developed Israeli Survival from all the years of practical training he had in the Israeli airborne Special Forces, many years teaching self-defense to several Israeli commando divisions, and all the years of experience he had as a professional fighter in bouts all over the world. It was based on Mas Oyama, a form of Japanese full-contact karate, Krav Maga, Muay Thai, and several other styles he incorporated in his self-defense techniques. A lot of it entailed fighting on the ground, which is where many fights end up. He constantly told us that the techniques he taught were tried and true in battle and all the professional fights he had over the years.

There were no flashy, impractical spinning jump kicks—just simple, effective self-defense techniques designed to disable your opponent quickly by any means necessary. His philosophy was to quickly move from a defensive posture into attack mode, striking vulnerable areas with whatever was available, while holding onto a “survival” state of mind.

He developed Israeli Survival from all the years of training he had as as Israeli Commando, teaching Israeli Special Forces self-defense, and as a professional fighter who has had bouts all over the world. It is based on Mas Oyama, a form of Japanese full-contact karate, Krav Maga, Muay Thai, and elements from several other styles he incorporated in his self-defense techniques. A lot of it entailed fighting on the ground, which is where many fights end up. He constantly told us that the techniques he taught were tried and true in battle and all the professional fights he had over the years. There were no flashy moves and bedazzling jump-spinning kicks with no practical purpose. It was all about extremely effective self-defense techniques, designed to go quickly from a defensive stance into attack mode and completely disable your opponent by any means necessary, and to always hold on to a "survival" state of mind.

Unlike my first instructor, he treated me with respect and kindness, and went easy on me when we sparred, pushing me just enough to allow me to learn without kicking the living shit out of me. Regardless, the training was brutal and painful. I stayed with it for six years until I herniated two discs in my lower back, thus ending my martial arts career for ten years.

After all those years of inactivity, I went to see a spinal injury specialist. He told me the discs were no longer the problem; the problem was the muscles around the injury that were constricted and weak. I started doing Hatha yoga, and now I do it everyday. The muscles in my lower back sometimes spasm, but I am usually not completely incapacitated. I just feel uncomfortable and the pain can be managed through lots of Advil, ice packs, and heat patches. I am back to training with my children at Moti Horenstein's Mixed Martial Arts; I train around my injuries. There are so many lessons I learned though all those years of training besides how to kill a man in two moves—the most important are respect for others, self-discipline, and letting go of my fear of others.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

An American Poet

2011-05-10T14:15:00.004-04:00

Throughout most of my life I have been a huge Doors fan. I remember hearing their first album when I was only fifteen, but it sent chills up my spine when I heard Jim Morrison’s deep baritone, and his intense passion and dark undertones made me feel as though there was someone else out there who understood what I felt on such a gut level, even at such a young age.

Ever since then I played their debut album over and over, and became obsessed with Morrison’s music and poetry. Strange Days also blew me away the first time I heard it. The Doors had an amazing ability to capture the macabre and darker side of life, while at the same time revealing a timeless truth that has stood the test of time.

There is no question that The Doors were one of the most important bands in the 20th Century, and were years ahead of their time. In the summer of 1978 I went to Paris and stood over Morrison’s grave. I will never forget how I felt, and the tears that welled up in my eyes. The world had lost a true genius, but he died on his own terms, even if the cause of his death is still mysterious.

I still listen to The Doors on a fairly regular basis. Their self-titled debut album is by far my favorite, but I have every album they ever produced, including the ones after Morrison’s death. There are so many songs I love so well, and it is just too hard to say which is my favorite, but I will post one that I feel touches me in a truly special way.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Peace Frog

There's blood in the streets, it's up to my ankles
She came
Blood in the streets, it's up to my knee
She came
Blood in the streets in the town of Chicago
She came
Blood on the rise, it's following me
Think about the break of day

She came and then she drove away
Sunlight in her hair

She came
Blood in the streets runs a river of sadness
She came
Blood in the streets it's up to my thigh
She came
Yeah the river runs red down the legs of a city
She came
The women are crying red rivers of weepin'

She came into town and then she drove away
Sunlight in her hair

Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding
Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mind

Blood in the streets in the town of New Haven
Blood stains the roofs and the palm trees of Venice
Blood in my love in the terrible summer
Bloody red sun of Phantastic L.A.

Blood screams her brain as they chop off her fingers
Blood will be born in the birth of a nation
Blood is the rose of mysterious union

There's blood in the streets, it's up to my ankles
Blood in the streets, it's up to my knee
Blood in the streets in the town of Chicago
Blood on the rise, it's following me

The Aftermath of a Psychiatric Crisis

2011-05-09T21:01:00.002-04:00

Today I met with both my psychiatrist and therapist. After committing myself into the inpatient clinic, it is protocol that an intake session be made to assess my mental health. Both of them lauded my decision to remove myself from Facebook indefinitely, and that my therapist and I would focus on my inability to control my impulses that seem to get me into so much trouble. In one fell swoop, I lost every friend I have, but I guess these were really never friends to begin with, so it doesn’t matter all that much.

I told them I was going to focus on my blog, and really work at networking with other bloggers. Again, both of them warned me about making posts about my disease and focusing on too much about what I am feeling. Yes, I know that blogging can be dangerous if you say the wrong things, and that posts you make can come back to haunt you, but I don’t use names and usually focus on what is going in my head and heart. Still, they told me that focusing on my disease would perpetuate my problems and could make matters worse.

I find writing about my disease is extremely cathartic, and although I may seem like a complete lunatic, that is not always the case. My problem is that I rapid cycle, meaning I swing into depression and mania rather quickly, sometimes to the extremes, but usually I stay close to my baseline, and I live a fairly drama free life.

My psychiatrist is going to start making major changes to my medication to keep me more stable. This will be gradual and done with extreme caution because the medication he wants to put me on can have rather nasty side effects. He told me we have lots of time to work on it, and it wouldn’t happen overnight.

My main concern is focusing on my job and getting my work out. That is one thing I cannot let slip. The last four years I have gotten glowing annual reviews, but my boss informed us this morning that our annual reviews would be given to us this week. I have a feeling this year’s review won’t be as good as the previous ones. There are definite issues I need to work on, and overall I have had a bad year as a result of my disease. Also, the publication of my debut novel has had some serious ramifications on my mental wellbeing, but Swiss Chocolate came out in January, so it didn’t impact my entire year.

I have two book events that I managed to setup on my own. One will be at River Road Books in Fair Haven, NJ this coming Saturday from noon to 2:00 pm. The other will be at Barnes & Noble at the Palisades Mall in West Nyack, NY on June 19 from 3:00 to 5:00 pm. I am excited about this, but I really have no idea of what kind of turnout I will have at River Road Books. The turnout at the Palisades Mall will depend upon what kind of promotion I can do in the immediate area. I am going to focus on local colleges, small business associations, and local area book clubs. I don’t have a lot of lead time, so I had better get busy.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Sinking Into the Maelstrom of Madness

2011-05-08T10:05:00.007-04:00

What do you do when your whole life is spinning out of control, and no matter how hard you try you cannot keep your emotions in check? Imagine the horror of ripping people’s reputations to pieces because of some uncontrollable rage that takes control over your impulses.

And what makes it even more horrifying is that you are aware of the damage you are causing as you are doing all this, but simply cannot stop yourself from what you are doing. This has been an ongoing problem with me for quite some time, and I have alienated so many friends who have witnessed my horrific actions.

Trust me, these things make it very hard for me to live with myself. People know me as a generous, kind, and loving individual, but when I go into mania or one of my debilitating depressions, I become extremely unstable and capable of exploding into torrents of anger, making me feel that my disease is progressing. My doctor is constantly jacking up my medication and making adjustments, but there are times when I still I cannot control all this self-destructive behavior. Sometimes I feel like a sinking ship that is about to go under.

I need a lifeline to grab onto. I need to spend more time with my children. They are only ones that keep me happy, and I know that Samantha is proud of me and loves me. Andrew loves spending time with me and taking trips down to the city, which we will do later this afternoon, unless it rains.

Other than that, there are so many that are pissed at me right now because of my last manic episode, which quickly swung into a deep depression. Unless they know what it is like to suffer from a disease as debilitating and destructive as bipolar disorder, they don’t know what it’s like to feel as though your life is being ripped to shreds.

Believe me, there are times when I feel as though living with this disease is not worth the effort. It brings nothing but guilt, pain and an incredible feeling of self-hatred at times. Not even my friends understand me anymore, and even one of my best friends is pissed at me for something I did on Facebook.

I have so many responsibilities, and I desperately need to keep things together. Thankfully these fits of rage and depression are not my normal state of mind, and I can usually function rather well. But every so often I do go over the edge, and I must continue pressing on, battling a disease that ravages my psyche. It is a battle that rages within me everyday, and it takes courage, strength and conviction to keep it at bay, as well as the right combination of medication, which constantly needs to be adujusted. I am a fighter, and I will not let this disease get the best of me. There is simply too much to lose and too much to live for.

My battle with bipolar disorder reminds me of a quote by one of the greatest thinkers of the 19th Century. "One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star." - Friedrich Nietzsche

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Terror on the Cross Bronx Expressway

2011-05-07T23:29:00.002-04:00

Several years ago, when I was still living with my wife, I commuted from Rockland County to Floral Park, Long Island to a job I absolutely abhorred. All told, it cost me $600 a month in tolls alone because I had to cross two bridges and go through a toll booth. But the worst of it was always the dreaded Cross Bronx Expressway, which was choked with traffic from tractor trailers and cars trying to squeeze through a stretch of road that was so narrow and filled with potholes that if your tires were not ripped to shreds, you were constantly terrorized by truckers who loved to bully people who drove old, beat up cars.

I drive a 93 Toyota Corolla that’s beat to hell and looks like a rusty tin can. Once I tried to change lanes in slow-going traffic to inch my way toward the Throgs Neck Bridge. A trucker took umbrage at my getting in front of him, and he nudged my rear end. At first I thought he did it accidently and brushed it off, but then he inched forward ever so slowly, pushing the rear end of my car around until I was nearly horizontal. The whole time this was happening I was in sheer terror and leaned on the horn.

Nobody paid attention, and in desperation I dialed 911, but the traffic was so thick there was no time for the cops to get there to stop what this guy did. When he had me perfectly positioned so that my car was perpendicular to the front of his truck, he crushed my front door to the point where the window shattered, and then got out of the truck and asked me if I was okay. I wanted to beat the crap out of the guy but I was trapped in the car.

When the cops arrived he told them I had cut him off and he hit me by accident—a complete and total lie. The cops believed his story over mine, despite my 911 call, and let him go. They had to pry my door open, and then jam it shut so I could drive out of there. My nerves were so shot I could barely work the rest of the day, and ever since then I have been terrified of truckers.

Since that day there have been two incidents where a trucker has gotten behind me and gave my bumper a good nudge forward, letting me know he is there. Being on the Cross Bronx Expressway during rush hour there is no place to go, so I just prayed that the son-of-a-bitch was just bored and wanted to have a little sport with a piece a junk in front of him that wouldn’t matter if it sustained a few more dents and scratches.

On the other hand, there are times I wished I carried .50 Desert Eagle gas-powered semi-automatic that would be sure to penetrate their engine blocks and leave them stranded for hours on end while I find a way to skedaddle the hell out of there.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Black Hackers vs White Hackers

2011-05-07T07:44:00.001-04:00

Last week my best friend’s twelve-year-old grandson sent me an invitation on Facebook to an event where he would teach people how to hack into people’s Facebook accounts. Then he listed all the names of the accounts he had hacked, and said how easy it was. This immediately triggered an alarm, and I posted on his wall that if I found out he was hacking into people’s accounts, I would notify the authorities and he would be arrested.

Not less than ten minutes before my appointment with my therapist last Tuesday, my friend called me on the phone and screamed her head off at me. She told me what her grandson did was none of my business, and that I was only causing family problems. Then she hung up on me and would not take my calls. This made me absolutely furious. I made that post almost a week ago, and the kid’s mother is just now getting around to reading it? Apparently, she does not take too much of an interest in her son’s activities on the internet.

Later that night, I made a post on facebook about what this kid had done. I didn’t use any names—everything was anonymous. All I said was that some misguided twerp had setup an event to show people how to hack into people’s accounts and then listed all the accounts he hacked, and that I had admonished him pretty sternly.

This set off a flurry of posts from people telling me that I did the right thing. I must have gotten twenty responses from people telling me that what I did was right and that the kid deserved to be taught a lesson. Several of my closest friends told me that they would not have warned him at all but simply reported him. I gave the kid a break because he is the grandson of my best friend. The next day I found my best friend had taped my spare keys to my door, meaning our friendship was over.

Although I ripped the kid apart for his stupidity, I did not use any real names. However, his mother took it upon herself to jump into the thread to defend her child. At that point, his identity was revealed, and I immediately backed out of the conversation.

All this happened while I was waiting to see my psychiatrist. I told him the story, and that I was pretty rattled, and had so many mixed emotions over what happened because I felt it was my duty to say something to this kid, but at the same time I lost one of my closest friends. My doctor could see how agitated I was, and asked me if I would like to check myself into the inpatient clinic for a couple of days. I asked him if I could think about it, and he told me to wait outside and he would be back in about twenty minutes.

I had been suffering from depression for weeks, and then the added stress of losing my best friend put me in uncharted waters. I didn’t feel as though I were in danger of hurting myself; it’s just that the thought of going back to an empty apartment in my current state of mind did not feel safe. I needed to disconnect from the situation for awhile and be in a place where I didn’t need to think so much, so when my doctor came back I told him I would like to check myself in.

They processed me, gave me a strong sedative, and I was taken into the clinic. This was my first stay in a mental ward, so I had no idea what to expect. It was dirty, the bathrooms were disgusting, the beds were uncomfortable and the food was surprisingly good.

I slept the entire day on Thursday all the way into Friday morning. They woke me up only to be interviewed by my doctors. I explained to them what led me to make my decision to commit myself, and they understood. I also made it clear that I was not a danger to myself or others; I just needed a break from the world.

By the time Friday morning rolled around I was going out of mind with boredom, and could not stand being in this place a moment longer. When it came time for my doctors to interview me, they told me that my primary physician recommended that I stay the weekend. I told them that would do more harm than good, because I could not stand it here and wanted to go home, do some writing, and pick up my children on Saturday.

They told me I could file a 72-hour Petition for Release because I admitted myself voluntarily, and that they would not fight it because they did not feel I was dangerous to myself or anyone else; however, they were concerned about me being alone over the weekend. I assured them I would be fine.

I was eventually released, and I went home and slept a couple of hours. Today I feel pretty good. Last night I talked with a good friend who knows the computer business inside and out. He knew the story about what happened with this kid, and he told me he would have reported him—no questions asked.

We talked quite awhile about it, and he explained that “script kiddies” did the most damage on the internet, and wreaked havoc with viruses, Trojans and ways they find to hack into people’s computers. He has zero tolerance for it, just like all my friends on facebook who responded to my original post. He told me there were two kinds of hackers—black hackers and white hackers. Black hackers hack into other people’s computers for nefarious reasons. White hackers hack into their own computers to increase their knowledge. White hackers are the enemy of black hackers, and without them, we would not have the level of security we now have. But it’s a never ending battle.

I have since taken the original post down because this kid’s mother made his identity public, and I do not want to be involved in that mess. My friend told me if this kid hacked into anybody’s accounts like he said he did, because he made it so public, you can damn well bet the FBI will show up at his door and he will be taken out in handcuffs along with his mother. Computer hacking is a Federal offence and there is no age limit. He will go to Juvenile Hall and his mother will be liable for any damages he incurred. She may also be charged with Criminal Negligence for not monitoring her son’s activities.

So, what started out as the best of intentions turned into a complete mess and I ended up having an emotional meltdown. Basically, I was standing on a house of cards that was destined to come apart, but the one thing I learned most from all this is that a mental ward is the last place I want to be.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Controlling my Impulses

2011-05-04T11:45:00.000-04:00

One of the biggest problems I have with bipolar disorder is controlling my impulses. When I start to move up on my scale, I make comments on Facebook and other social networking sites that I always regret.

Sometimes these posts are made in anger, other times I make idiotic comments about suicide that scare the hell out of my friends. Thankfully the latter is rare, because most times I am not suicidal, even though when I slip into a really deep depression I have prevalent thoughts of suicide.

But, throughout all my bouts with depression I have never once attempted suicide, and many of these depressions have lasted for months at a time. I remember one depression that was so debilitating that every morning while waiting for the train I would actually debate whether I should throw myself off the platform in front of an oncoming train.

I told my doctor about these thoughts, and several times he thought about hospitalizing me, but I convinced him that these thoughts were simply a product of my disease, and that I had no intentions of following through with them.

Despite the severity of this depression, and how utterly miserable I was, I still got up every day and went to my job. My boss kept me busy, and I was able to focus on my work and produce very well.

Lately, things have changed. I am unable to produce, and my depression is so debilitating I can’t get out of bed for days. Now, this boggles my mind because I have so much to be thankful for. Swiss Chocolate is doing relatively well, and I have two book events lined up, one of them at a huge Barnes & Noble at the Palisades Mall in West Nyack, NY. This is a major event because this store gets an amazing amount of traffic.

Today I am seeing both my psychiatrist and therapist. I need to figure out what’s causing this depression and perhaps make some adjustments to my meds. As far as my impulses are concerned, I need to take a deep breath and think before I post anything on Facebook and create problems for myself and alienate my friends.

My blog is a much safer forum for me because I have the opportunity to really think about what I am writing before I publish my post. As my good friend and editor, Susan Mary Malone, told me, Facebook is much more dangerous because everything is so immediate, and I can blast out a post off the top of my head without thinking about the consequences.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

My Inability to Focus on My Job

2011-05-03T09:05:00.003-04:00

For the past few weeks, I have been sitting in front of my computer, staring at code that I simply cannot decipher. A couple of weeks ago, I was given a rather complex project that involved a lot of analysis and not too many code changes. I hit a brick wall, and simply could not follow the logic. My boss and I had a talk about why it was taking me so much time to complete a project that I would normally turn around in a few days.

I told her I could not focus on the task at hand, and that this has never happened before. She knows me well, and has seen me crank out enormous amounts of work very quickly, some of which has been extremely complex. Granted, the logic for this project was pretty convoluted, and we worked on it together for days until we found the solution.

For whatever reason, I simply cannot focus on my job, and even the simplest tasks are beyond my reach. I don’t know what’s happening; this is not like me, and I usually can read code and understand the underlying logic within a matter of minutes. But lately I look at the code in front of me and am at a total loss.

I am useless unless I can somehow turn this around. I need to figure out what’s blocking me from doing what I usually do so well. My boss knows that I have been suffering from depression, and that this may have something to do with it. She suggested I take a leave of absence and get help. I may have to do just that. Sitting in front of a computer all day and being unable to do anything only makes matters worse.

Perhaps my bipolar disorder is creeping up on me and destroying my ability to concentrate. I have heard that this is a possibility. Then again, this may be something temporary that can be treated with the right medication. I am not exactly sure what is going on, and that’s what bothers me the most.

I want my job back. I want to be able to sit down and crank out code the way I have been doing for the last four years. My boss has always been able to count on me to get multiple projects done well before my deadlines, and my users are always happy with what I produce.

I have always had a good work ethic, and I take pride in doing my job well. If my disease is keeping me from doing my job, I will fight it tooth and nail. I will do whatever it takes to remain productive and happy in a career that spans several decades in which I have gained a lot of respect. The last thing I want is to succumb to my disease and end up on disability.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Tragic Endings That Could Have Been Avoided

2011-05-02T22:38:00.003-04:00

Let’s talk seriously about Kurt Cobain and Ernest Hemingway for a moment. Both these men had a lot in common in that they both were serious substance abusers, and Hemingway was believed to be bipolar. Kurt Cobain was most definitely bipolar. Granted, suicide was rampant in Hemingway’s family, but Hemingway lived a full life. He was always a heavy drinker, and finally succumbed to alcoholism in his later years. He also suffered from severe depression.

Kurt Cobain had a slew of substance abuse problems, the worst being his heroin addiction. So what did these two men have so much in common? The answer is that they lost faith in their ability to create. Hemingway never left a suicide note, but he did say the treatment he received for his alcoholism and depression ruined his memory, thus his ability to continue writing.

Cobain wrote in his suicide note that he lost his passion for his music and art, and felt as though he were a complete fraud. In one of the last lines of his suicide note he wrote, “I don't have the passion anymore, and so remember, it's better to burn out than to fade away.”

And, finally, both these men used shotguns to blow off their heads, probably the most violent off all suicides possible. What makes all this so terribly tragic is that neither of these men got proper treatment for what they suffered from most. Granted, their substance abuse problems were serious, but if their bipolar disorder had been addressed, perhaps Cobain could have reinvented himself and found his passion again. And maybe Hemingway might have found a way to continue living his life with a modicum of dignity for all that he accomplished, and perhaps if his alcoholism were brought under control and his bipolar disorder was properly addressed, he could have kept on producing.

These are questions that will never be answered. The truth is, 80% of all men who suffer from bipolar disorder are also substance abusers. Many don’t get help, so they self-medicate, making matters worse, until the inevitable happens—an overdose or suicide.

Cobain’s legendary vocal ability and guitar work will live on forever, as will Hemingway’s brilliant stories, but the tragedies of their untimely endings should be examined more closely to prevent something like this from happening again. Some say that with great genius comes a heavy price, but look at Einstein, probably the greatest genius known to mankind. He was forever an optimist and his quotes live on in the hearts of many. My favorite being, "Imagination is more important than knowledge."

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood

2011-05-02T13:29:00.003-04:00

Baby, do you understand me now?

Sometimes I feel a little mad
But, don't you know that no one alive can always be an angel
When things go wrong I seem to be bad

I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

If I seem edgy
I want you to know
That I never meant to take it out on you
Life has its problems
And I got my share
And that's one thing I never meant to do
'Cause I love you

Baby, don't you know I'm just human
And I've got thoughts like any other one
And sometimes I find myself, oh Lord, regretting
Some foolish thing, some foolish thing I've done

But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood
Oh Lord, don't let me be misunderstood
Please don't let me be misunderstood

Baby, do you understand me now?
Sometimes I feel a little mad
But, don't you know that no one alive can always be an angel
When things go wrong I seem to be bad

'Cause I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

Baby, sometimes I'm so carefree
With a joy that's hard to hide
And sometimes it seems that, all I have to do is worry
And then you're bound to see my other side

'Cause I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

If I seem edgy
I want you to know
That I never meant to take it out on you
Life has its problems
And I got my share
And that's one thing I never meant to do
'Cause I love you

Oh, baby, don't you know I'm human
I have thoughts like any other one
And sometimes I find myself, oh Lord, regretting
Some foolish thing, some foolish thing I've done

'Cause I'm just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

I would have to say that Elvis Costello's cover of this 1964 classic was by far the best I've ever heard, even if The Animals forever immortalized it. This is one song that will live in my heart forever.

Bipolar Depression - The Opposite End of the Scale

2011-05-02T13:18:00.002-04:00

For anybody who is bipolar I, they know what it is to swing into a -5 depression (See my post “The Bipolar Spectrum and Management of the Disease,” Monday, April 18, 2011.) It is a feeling of being so hopelessly depressed that the simplest tasks are impossible to accomplish. If it continues for more than a few days, then hospitalization is most certainly required, and the threat of suicide is real and prevalent.

My bout with it lasted from late Friday afternoon until late Monday morning, but I was able to come through it okay. I did make a post on facebook about suicide this morning, which scared the hell out of my friends, and it wasn’t until my brother-law-law called and told me to snap out of it when I realized I needed to get hold of my doctor.

I left him a message and then had a talk with my boss. She strongly recommended that we get HR involved, but I asked her to hold off until I saw my doctor. The last thing I want is to be stuck at home with nothing to do, or to be hospitalized unnecessarily for a temporary state of mind. On the other hand, she does not want me to be stuck here unable to focus on my job. If I can manage to find my focus I will be okay.

So, which is worse? The self-destructive manic episodes I find myself falling over the edge? Or the hopeless depressions that are so utterly debilitating I can barely function, and all I can think about is suicide?

Bipolar disorder is truly a curse, and I do feel for those who have it. On the other hand, if you are responsible and take control over your disease you can live with it, but no matter how hard you try, you will slip every once in awhile and find yourself in a horrible mess of your own creation.

For me, that’s the hardest part to live with. I am constantly apologizing to people who get steamrolled as I go crashing into catastrophes created by my disease. There is a lot of guilt associated with what I go through, and that in of itself is an unhealthy emotion. When I am completely off the rails I can say and do some pretty awful things.

Underneath all this conflicting emotion and enormous passion is a a truly kind man full of love and generosity. I am constantly reminded of the Animals' classic song, "Please Don't Let Me be Misunderstood."

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Weekend Blues

2011-05-02T06:12:00.001-04:00

This was a bad weekend. There are times when I think many of my friends can’t deal with me because of my destructiveness when I go into mania or I get angry. Most people live their lives on the surface, meaning they don’t really let on what is going inside their hearts and heads. They build a façade for others to see, never allowing anyone past that for fear of what they might expose.

I live my life completely differently. There is something that drives me to expose all that is going on in my head and heart. For some, that is hard to take. But what makes it most difficult is when I have these moments of anger, and I start lashing out at the world. By attacking Nanette Reiss, the Director of The Oceanic Free Library, on a public forum, I served no purpose except to make myself look bad.

Yes, without question, she blew me off rather rudely, and never responded to any of my messages, nor did she tell me that the library had purchased a copy of Swiss Chocolate and put it on the shelves. So, after exchanging a few Facebook posts she disappeared and blocked me, and I went into a deep depression that lasted pretty much the entire weekend. I have no idea how many hours I slept the last two days, but the only time I got up was to eat and use the bathroom.

I did make a public apology on Facebook, and I also wrote her an apology, which will go out in today’s mail along with my rent. I am depressed because women are not responding to me on Match.com, despite the heartfelt, honest messages I send. I guess they are going up to my author page on Amazon and reading my blog posts, which reveal all that I stand for and suffered through as a victim of child abuse and someone who suffers from bipolar disorder. Nobody wants to get involved with someone who has endured that much shit and has been so emotionally damaged.

But what they fail to recognize is that I am a winner. I turned all that pain around and created a lasting work of fiction that actually got published. Very few writers get that honor. I also have a very successful career with the State of New York as a software engineer. Despite everything, I came out on top, and continue to grow as a writer and a human being.

I cannot lie to people and tell them I am not bipolar, because eventually the truth would come out anyway. They don’t need to know it right up front, but it is part of who I am, and although it is a difficult disease to live with, unlike so many who suffer from bipolar I and are on disability, I am strong, determined and live a rather normal life, in that I hold an important job with a lot of responsibility, I am able to crank out great works of fiction when I hit my “zone”, and I do have a strong group of loving friends.

Love to all!

James M. Weil.

Burning Bridges

2011-04-29T13:52:00.004-04:00

With the publication of Swiss Chocolate, and now the enormous popularity of my blog that tells so candidly my feelings about my disease, family and all that I endured as a child, I am afraid I have gone beyond the point of no return. My family really wants nothing more to do with me, and I have been shunned by all.

But as my good friend and editor said, Hemingway once wrote that it’s the writer’s job to tell the truth as he sees it, and that I am only a bi-product of what I went through growing up. So, as I sit here and bleed from all the veins I have opened, I ask myself was it worth sacrificing my family the way I did? I am also sure there are plenty of people in Rumson who scorn me for what I have written, but I simply wrote what I felt from my heart, and for that, I simply cannot apologize. I will just have to live with it, and so will they. This is the cross that any artist who is true to himself must bear.

Swiss Chocolate is a fictionalized memoir, but that doesn’t mean the passion and feelings that went into the story are not real. And although it is a work of fiction, it is largely based on truth. I will never forget how the Library Director at The Oceanic Free Library blew me off after reading Harmony House. I must have hit a nerve pretty damn close to home. When we first started corresponding she was so exuberant and excited about hosting my book launch party at the end of January. She was perfectly clear in her correspondence that the renovations would be finished at the beginning of January, and that the perfect time for a book event would be at the end of the month.

But then suddenly I got a very terse email from her telling me that she could not guarantee the event, and a host of other things she never mentioned before. Basically, she was backpedaling rather quickly from any involvement with me, and I sent her an email telling her what I thought of what she did. I never mince words, and I never heard back from her.

I made a grave error trying to setup a book event at The Oceanic Free Library. Basically I was rubbing salt in my father’s wounds. Hell, I don’t even know if he read the damn thing; he said he wouldn’t, and to please not market it in his area. But, then again, I grew up in that damn town and have every right to market my book wherever I please. Still, going to The Oceanic Free Library is out of the question. Rumson will never open their arms to me; I am forever a pariah—someone without shame or honor in their eyes.

I see it the other way around. I am the one with honor, and they are the ones who are filled with shame. Dirty, little secrets are not to be exposed, but hidden away from public view. People in Rumson are a rare breed; they live in a world of high society where everyone is king of their patch of the world. Go to Sea Bright Lawn Tennis & Cricket Club or Sea Bright Beach Club and you will see immediately what I am talking about. These are people who are very comfortable in their skins and have achieved great wealth and stature in their communities. Many of them are CEO’s of Fortune 500 companies, or Wall Street gurus. Scandals are something they don’t like seeing; it makes them human and vulnerable, and it could happen to any of them.

So, I must rise above, be proud of my accomplishment, do not second guess myself, keep blogging what I feel, and write with honesty and passion when I have the muse. This is all that can be expected of a writer who has any aritistic integrity at all. Indeed, he must push the limits of what is acceptable.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Michael Douglass Says Catherine Zeta-Jones' Welsh Background Kept Her Quiet About Her Disease

2011-04-28T16:28:00.003-04:00

Michael Douglas says that Catherine Zeta-Jones did not seek help for her bipolar disorder because of her Welsh upbringing and “stiff upper lip” mentality. Although there may be some truth in what he says, it hammers home an earlier post I made on Saturday, April 23, 2011 called “Men Who Suffer in Silence.”

I lived in England for about a year, and, yes, the British do have a tendency to keep their emotions in check. But American men are ostracized to the point of total isolation if they admit to having psychiatric problems. They are more apt to die earlier than women from problems related to serious depression. This is a well-documented fact, and has been written about in several magazines and scientific journals.

The drug companies and media would lead us to believe that women suffer more from depression than men, which, in of itself, is yet another stigma. The fact is millions of men suffer from depression and never get help. I invite you to read an enlightening article in “The Ladies Home Journal” called Why Men Suffer in Silence: Male Depression. I hope this will bring to light the enormous problem that men face in today’s society about the stigma of having to live with depression and other mental illnesses.

All my love,

James M. Weil

Horror Stories on Match.com

2011-04-28T11:32:00.006-04:00

I recently reactivated my account with Match.com. I have had the account for years, but some of the lunatics I went out on dates with made me shy away from there for a very long time. And this is coming from someone who knows he’s a lunatic!

I can’t tell you how many women have asked me to meet them in restaurants and then stick me with the bill, only to never hear from them again. And several women have recently complained to me that men constantly take ten years off their ages to get their foot in the door. There seems to be a bit of animosity on Match.com. Many women I have corresponded with seem to think that most men are intrinsically dishonest. I think everyone has been burned to some degree because it is so easy to meet someone and be completely disappointed with what they see or find out about whom they are dating once they meet them in person.

Now, my profile is carefully worded. I do not come out and say I am bipolar, but I do talk about my passion for writing and editing. I am pretty honest about myself without going into too much detail. I also mention that my debut novel has just been published, and that if they like they can look me up on Amazon. There they will find my blog feed on my author page, where they can read all my posts I make about myself and how I feel about life. It doesn’t get any more honest from there, and if they can handle it, there is a possibility of some sort of connection.

Every woman without exception talks about how upbeat they are, how much they love life and live it to the fullest, that they are satisfied with who and where they are but are looking for their soul-mate to complete them, that family means everything, and how many great friends they have. They talk about their interests and what they do, what they are looking for in a man, and how much they love to travel to exotic places. What strikes me the most is that every profile is almost exactly the same with the exception of a few minor details.

This is all about salesmanship. Women send out hooks in hopes of finding the perfect man, but online dating has made it all too easy for people to simply speed date. I have one hard and fast rule: If you want to meet me it must be in a coffee shop on a weekend afternoon—no exceptions. Coffee and conversation for an hour is more than enough time to figure out if I am interested in pursuing a relationship further. And I don’t a give a damn what any woman says about how fulfilled and happy she is on her profile. Most women my age have been through at least one horrific divorce and have some serious emotional scars and plenty of baggage to go with it. Life will do that to you.

I skim through profiles and read them carefully, knowing full well there is a lot to be read between the lines. I don’t wink; emails are far more personal and display my interest in finding more about a woman who has caught my eye. And I do not respond to women who do not post their pictures. A picture tells a thousand words. Oh, and one other thing, many women say they are successful entrepreneurs and are looking for a financially-secure man. That's like a five-alarm fire going off in my head.

So, I will try Match.com for a little while and see what happens. If nothing else, I will have some good material for future stories. By the way, as a literary agent who has worked for Chamein Canton Literary Agency for the past six years, I have read some hysterical proposals for nonfiction books written by women who have been put through the wringer in online dating forums. There are actually a lot of them out there, and some of these stories will make you laugh hysterically. We live in interesting times. And it keeps getting more and more interesting as time goes on.

All my love!

James M. Weil

Our Little Angel

2011-04-28T10:12:00.000-04:00

This is the place where I made my best mistakes
This is the place even angels don't understand
I've seen the disappointment in her face
And the collection of engagement rings on her right hand
She sits alone apart from the crowd
In a white dress she wears like a question mark
Friends speak of her fondly
Enemies just think out loud
You think you're man enough to please her
And you're fool enough to start
You're not going to do a thing to our little angel
There's nothing you're thinking tonight that tomorrow won't change
Now the cabaret is frozen and the laughter comes in cans
And the lonely hearts club clientele don't know what to do with their hands
You think that you'll be sweet to her but everybody knows
That you're the marshmallow valentine that got stuck on her clothes
But you're not going to do a thing to our little angel
There's nothing you're thinking tonight that tomorrow won't change
So you mix your drinks and words
You make bad jokes you make bad time
The floors are there to walk over
The walls are there to climb
You swear that you'll never go back again once you're inside
You're never the bridegroom she's always the bride
And you're not going to do a thing to our little angel
There's nothing you're thinking tonight that tomorrow won't change
You'll come in a sweetheart and you'll go out a stranger
Well you try to love her but she's so contrary
Like a chainsaw running through a dictionary
So get your mind off the sweet behind of our little angel
You're not going to do a thing
You're not going to do a thing
You're not going to do a thing to our little angel

Our Little Angel - Elvis Costello
Released February 1986
Columbia Records

I have seen Elvis Costello in concert at least five times. He is a true intellectual and a genius who speaks to me on so many levels.

Kenny Bayside

2011-04-27T20:10:00.003-04:00

I have a wide assortment of loyal friends from all walks of life. One friend in particular I call Kenny Bayside, even though that’s not his real name. He is not the kind of guy you can call and have a two hour conversation about how life is treating you. But he and I do share a special relationship.

He is a wealthy man, and enjoys life on his own terms. He has no wife or girlfriend, loves his job, his brother, and during the summer he always takes Fridays off to go to the beach at the crack of dawn where he sits in the sun smoking a fine cigar until he gets hungry.

On occasion he will give me a call shortly before noon and tell me to meet him at Peter Luger in Great Neck. No questions asked, I jump in the shower, and drive down there and usually have to wait a few minutes because he is always late.

The manager and waiters know him well; he is a frequent customer. He takes me out just to find out what’s new in my life and how I am doing. He sees nothing but positive things in every aspect of my life, even when I feel differently. He is a bit of a lunatic of sorts, and put him in a crowd and he’ll come out with things completely off the wall. It’s quite a spectacle really. He has no tolerance for stupidity and people who are full of shit. I have seen him rip people to shreds when he sees through their bullshit. One guy we call Barney the Dinosaur tells nothing but lies about his apparent covert military background and highly successful hedge fund operation he ripped apart so effectively he finally left in tears.

Now, he is a puny little guy with a very loud mouth, but he gets away with murder because he’s so damn brilliant and thinks so fast on his feet nobody can touch him, and if anybody tried he has enough friends to back him. He gets respect, even if he is a raving lunatic. I guess that’s what I love most about him.

He read the first chapter of Swiss Chocolate before it was published and told me I had an instant winner. I asked him if he wanted to read the rest of the book, and he told me he didn’t need to. The first chapter told him everything he needed to know about how well the book was going to do. I left it at that.

He is proud of me for persevering and following my dream of becoming a published writer, and told me 90% of the American population doesn’t have what it takes to get where I am. He may be exaggerating, but he also loves the fact that I am doing well in my job, and that now that my divorce is over I can really move on with my life. He sees nothing but good in me.

When I have money (which is rare) I sometimes give him a call and invite him out to dinner. Tomorrow night we are going to Uncle Jack’s on Bell Boulevard in Bayside. It rivals Luger as far as quality, but the atmosphere is much nicer. One hundred dollars per head, including appetizers, but the food and service are impeccable. Looking forward to seeing one of my good buddies and enjoying a truly delicious meal.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Promoting Your Book is Where the Real Work Begins

2011-04-27T15:52:00.001-04:00

When I talked to one of the partners at River Road Books to schedule my book event, I told her she could order my book through any of her distributors. She asked me for my ISBN, which I gave her, and she looked up my book on Baker & Taylor and Ingram, the two main distributors she uses.

I was a little shocked when she told me that Ingram only had eight books in stock, and that Baker & Taylor had none, with none on order. I called my publisher in a panic and asked him what the hell was going on. He told me to relax. First off, he was shocked that Ingram kept eight books in stock at all, because that meant they expected to sell them, and would probably be ordering more. And the fact that Baker & Taylor had no books was a good sign, because they had preordered quite a few, and given this is the season where distributors start making their returns, Swiss Chocolate was doing pretty well in that department. My publisher said to tell her to order the books through Ingram and Midpoint would ship the copies within a couple of weeks.

I still have no idea how many books I have actually sold, but my publisher told me to relax and keep promoting as much as I could. Writing the book was not easy, getting published was a matter of persistence and luck, but promoting the book once it came out is where the real work began.

I am a nobody. People know me on Facebook and other social networking sites, but who in America knows that I wrote a book? Quite frankly I am shocked that my blog gets so many hits, but I have yet to figure out how many of those equate into book sales. And despite the number of hits I get on my blog, jamesweil.com, gets hardly any hits at all. This surprises me because there is a lot of content on my site with plenty of samples of some of my best writing.

Persistence pays off. I will keep hammering away at promoting my book. There are a lot of ideas my publisher gave me, and I am going to try a few of them and see what happens.

Wish me luck, and love to all!

James M. Weil

River Road Books Event

2011-04-27T11:10:00.003-04:00

River Road Books in Fair Haven, New Jersey will be hosting a book signing for Swiss Chocolate on Saturday, May 14, from noon until 2:00 pm. They are located on 759 River Road and can be reached at 732.747.9455.

I am very excited about this and hope I have a good turnout. I still have many friends who live in the area, and hope they show up just to say hi and have a good time for a couple of hours.

Hope to see you all there!

All my love!

James M. Weil

The Beauty of a Small Publisher

2011-04-26T22:57:00.005-04:00

Dailey Swan Publishing is a small house that is growing rather quickly. There are benefits to signing with a small house, in that your book will get a lot more attention because most small publishers are in it for the love of books. Although getting signed with a big house will pack a big punch, typically they leave the promotion up to the author, and if your book does not do well in a rather short window, you will be back-listed rather quickly to make room for newer titles.

Small publishers, on the other hand, will keep your book alive for years as long as it turns a profit. Even if it is not a bestseller, the revenue generated is essential because cash flow is a huge problem in the publishing industry, especially for smaller houses.

The biggest problem I had with my publisher was all the false starts getting the book to press. It was delayed several times, but he finally got it out. The other big problem was with the copy editing. Even though I saw the final proof in PDF format, I missed a ton of errors because in my mind I see words that are not there, and miss my own mistakes. All told there were more than 90 typos, spelling errors, grammatical flaws and missing words in sentences. The majority of these should have been caught by my publisher’s editor before the manuscript came to me, but, ultimately it was my responsibility to make sure the manuscript was clean.

What I should have done was given it to a good copy editor to go over it with a fine-tooth comb, but I trusted my own editing skills, only to realize I cannot edit my own work very well. I am a damn good editor when it comes to working with other people—just ask any of my clients. It’s just that my mind doesn’t catch my own mistakes, and I really got burned on my first print run, which, thankfully, was only a thousand copies.

I took a three-day weekend and went through my manuscript word-for-word twice, marked up the page numbers, the line numbers, the errors, the corrections and an explanation on an Excel spreadsheet. Then I highlighted the mistakes in a copy of my book. When I was done, I gave my work to a friend to go over it again. She found a few more errors, and those got marked up as well.

As I ride the train home from the city, I sometimes thumb through my book, just to see what I might have done better or differently. And would you believe that I spelled Ernest Hemingway’s name Hemmingway twice on the same page? I called my publisher and he told me to email the correction.

A facebook buddy who grew up in my area pointed out that I spelled Navesink wrong, which is the name for both a town and a river that goes through part of Monmouth County. I used Naversink, which he said irked him a bit. That will be corrected as well. All these errors are a bit of an embarrassment, but there is nothing I can do about them until the next print run comes out.

It’s never ending!

You can buy the book directly from Amazon.com.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Introspection is Healthy

2011-04-25T20:39:00.005-04:00

My therapist read several of my blog posts, and we had an interesting discussion about it. He wondered if it was such a good idea to be so forthcoming about my disease and what I feel, and whether there may be some negative ramifications as a result of putting so much of myself out there for public consumption.

I told him I really don’t give a damn, as long as I enlightened people about what it is like to suffer with bipolar disorder, an uncontrollable rage that threatened all my relationships, an abusive childhood that nearly destroyed my spirit and ripped me of my self-esteem at a very tender, young age, and on top of it all, the complete alienation from my family.

Everybody has an epiphany in life—that moment when they realize something so completely honest and true that it forever changes them. That moment came to me when I just turned thirty, was living in San Diego, my career as a tile setter was ending because my back and my knees couldn’t take it anymore, and I was standing at the bar of The Old Ocean Beach Café next to two women having a conversation about men.

One woman said to the other, “If a man doesn’t have his shit together by the time he is thirty, it’s never going to happen.” Those words were like a slap in the face and a very rude wakeup call. Within a month I sold all my tools, my truck, gave up my apartment, moved to Philadelphia and enrolled in Temple University’s School of Journalism.

There was no way in hell I was going to go through four years of college, so I got special permission from the Dean to average 21 credits per semester. I made the Dean’s List almost every semester, and graduated Cum Laude in two years, but I had to take classes through the summers, and I hardly ever slept. I was also able to transfer credits from several classes I had taken at Mesa Community College in San Diego.

Temple University’s School of Journalism is topnotch, and it brought my writing to a whole new level. I am glad I did it; without it I would not be where I am today. I remember once I was dating a woman who broke up with me because she told me that I had been broken and that I could never be fixed. Perhaps she was right. I am broken. In some areas I am completely shattered. But isn’t that what makes me unique and special?

I am forever working on self-improvement through honest introspection and therapy. My writing is an endless journey of self-exploration and the examination of human nature in its rawest form. Some find it offensive; others find it fascinating. I just try to be honest in everything I endeavor.

Love to you all!

James M. Weil

Easter Dinner

2011-04-25T12:36:00.003-04:00

Today is a good day. I feel hopeful and rested. I worked hard this weekend on my blog and a few other writing projects. Although I did not get to see my babies this Easter, I did talk to them yesterday morning.

Last night an old friend called out of the blue. We haven’t spoken in ages. He has it rough in that he is a temporary employee with the New York City Police Department. He is a police photographer, and although he passed his civil service exam and is number thirteen on the hiring list, he probably won’t get hired fulltime.

Beyond that he has no family and few friends, so last night I offered to take him out to dinner. We went to a nice Italian restaurant in Port Washington and ate well. That was our Easter celebration. A nice meal between old friends.

He owns a house he can’t afford, and although he has an apartment on the second floor, his last tenants screwed him and didn’t pay the rent for an entire year. Adding insult to injury they completely trashed the place before he finally got them out. He doesn’t have the money to fix the place up and put it back up for rent, so I suggested he just sell the damn place and get the hell out of dodge.

New York is killing him because it is so damn expensive, and police photographers make next to nothing. He says he would like to move out West and enjoy the wide-open country. I say go for it. He has more than $400,000.00 in equity—more than enough to get some place really nice in an area where the cost of living is cheap.

His dream is to teach photography and build his portfolio. Follow your dreams is what I told him. Now is the time, because he is getting close to retirement age, and he has several good years ahead of him to make his dreams come true.

He is a kind, gentle soul who just needs to be nudged to flee the trap he is snared in New York City. Moving out West would be good for him, and I know if he got out from under all this pressure that is stifling his happiness, he would follow through with his dreams and find peace and tranquility. He deserves it, and I hope he gets what he wants with all my heart.

All my love!

James M. Weil

Men Who Suffer in Silence

2011-04-23T23:38:00.004-04:00

Recently I met a woman online who said she was looking for a relationship with a man who was not bipolar. Curiosity got the better of me, and I asked her what she meant by that. Apparently, she was married to a man for sixteen years who was bipolar but refused to get treatment. I can only imagine the hell she went through living with him, but her pain was nothing compared to his.

I have to ask myself, why would anyone want to live with this disease without getting treatment? Without the right medication you are on a constant emotional rollercoaster ride, and depending on the severity of your disease, you can easily tear yourself and those around you to pieces.

The answer is it’s a cultural thing with men of my generation. We are taught to suffer in silence, and that admitting that you have emotional or psychological problems is a sign of great weakness. This is tragic on so many levels, because many men suffer from depression and never get help. Although they may not be bipolar, which is far more severe, depression can be pretty damn debilitating and can destroy your outlook on life.

There are many emotional and psychological disorders that go untreated by men who refuse to admit they have a problem. Have you ever noticed that all the commercials for antidepressants focus on women? I have yet to see a single one where a man is sitting in a chair looking despondent and depressed. Yes, this is most certainly a cultural thing. Depression among women is much more acceptable, but a man must suck it up and keep going, no matter how bad he feels.

I am going to keep pounding this issue until people start listening. It’s okay for men to admit they are depressed or suffer from mental diseases. The HR Department and my boss work closely with me when I start a major mood swing, and understand completely when I have to take an afternoon off to go see my doctor. I stay on top of my disease like white on rice, and I never wait for things to get out of hand. That’s the biggest reason I have never been hospitalized and function so well at my job.

There have been a few times when I have gone completely off the rails, but that hasn’t happened in ages, and is pretty rare by now. I have found the right medication, I am getting individual therapy, and I am in a support group for people with bipolar disorder. I am doing all the right things to keep myself stable.

I wish more men in my age group would do the same. I feel bad for that woman’s husband. He may never seek help for his bipolar disorder, and now that his marriage has failed, who knows how that may affect him. I know she doesn’t care; after living through hell with this poor guy for sixteen years, the only thing she wanted was to be free of all the drama. She made that perfectly clear in her correspondence.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

When the Little Boy Stands Up and Becomes A Man

2011-04-22T18:23:00.006-04:00

Every session with my therapist is another opportunity for a breakthrough in self-awareness. It is not my past that needs to be explored, but how I react to others in abusive situations, and how I let myself be put in these situations in the first place. There is actually a good rationale for this because going back into my past could trigger stressors that may send me into mania or into a deep depression.

In an earlier post I made the observation that abused children internalize what they went through and seek out abusive people because that’s what they know and their self-esteem has been ripped away from them. The point is to not act out like a hurt child when you feel you have been wronged, or simply swallow your emotions when someone has put you down.

On the other hand, lashing out in anger is not healthy either, as I have made perfectly clear in more posts than I think people need to read at this juncture. This is when the little boy in me has to stand up and become a man. Instead of swallowing back my pain from being hurt or abused, or worse, lashing out in a blind rage, causing more damage than good, the healthy choice is to simply not allow the abuser power over your emotions and simply walk away or gently make them aware that their behavior is unacceptable. It all depends on what you want out of the relationship.

For a healthy person, all this makes perfect sense. But for a victim of child abuse, it is actually a long, hard lesson to be learned and requires lots of practice. My relationship with my father’s abusive wife is a perfect example. She cannot hurt me anymore unless I allow her. But I have already made the choice I would not go down there again after what she did to my daughter.

So, here it is, folks! The grand epiphany! Life is about choices. You choose who you want to be and who you want to surround yourself with. You choose to allow people to walk all over you if you want. You choose to stand up to those who would put you down. Or you simply choose to walk away from abusive situations, just as you choose to react in anger because of what you felt as a young boy.

My therapist gave me a worksheet to fill out whenever I get angry or have these moments of “darkness.” What we are trying to do is establish a pattern, and with that, we can find effective ways of dealing with my anger. I will need to build an Excel spreadsheet because I get angry a lot, and the sheet he gave me is not nearly long enough, and this is going to take some time.

I see progress in my future.

Love to you all!

James M. Weil

Swiss Chocolate Continues to be Painful

2011-04-22T12:55:00.004-04:00

I think Giovanni Gelati said it most elegantly in his review of Swiss Chocolate that he posted on Amazon and Goodreads—“His novel is a mirror reflection of himself: raw, uncensored, and brutally honest. That is the reason for the five stars: total and complete honesty of self. I don't believe I have read it to this degree before.”

Swiss Chocolate is a fictionalized memoir, but I drew upon my deepest feelings and emotions from the bottom of my soul. I was suffering as I was writing it, and that only enhanced my ability to tap into the pain that is so deeply embedded in my psyche.

Most of what I wrote about my family is true, although I did take a few creative liberties when it came to the sequence of events and the way certain things happened. Writing Swiss Chocolate was extremely cathartic, and I truly believed that publishing it would bring me freedom and redemption. How wrong I was.

The publication of Swiss Chocolate has proven to be a double-edged sword. Although I wrote a captivating story that many have truly enjoyed, I have opened up a whole new can of worms. I find myself suffering from mild depression over the publication of my book, and although my story is now out in the open, and thought I would find vindication for all that I endured as a child into adulthood, really what I have done is bring out a whole new set of anger issues that need to be explored.

Much of this has to do with the fact that the town of Rumson, New Jersey never accepted me, and I was considered an outcast by many. This was especially true in high school, but more so as an adult by my father’s contemporaries. My contemporaries from my high school years at Rumson-Fair Haven have grown up and many are now my friends, and have read the book and loved it for the most part. But the Library Director of The Oceanic Free Library in Rumson wanted nothing to do with me or a book event. The same holds true for most independent bookstores in the area. Even though I accomplished publishing my debut novel, they still refuse to acknowledge me.

Alexandra Cavalletti is based upon a real woman—a siren who led me astray and pretty much ripped my guts out. Regardless, she helped me write major portions of the book, and was very supportive in the beginning—until things became a little uncomfortable for her. Now, every single person I went to school with at Ecole des Roches in Switzerland wants nothing to do with me, and I have been blocked on all alumni sites and forbidden from ever attending another class reunion, which they hold every year at a different location.

They just don’t seem to get that this is a work of fiction told from the heart. It was never my intention to sully her reputation, but to tell an honest, forthright story about first love and the tragic fates of two people who were cast out of the lifestyles they grew up with and had come to expect out of life. This is utter stupidity on their parts; they are simply too narrow-minded to see what I have accomplished and take it for what it is.

No worries. Swiss Chocolate will find its place among contemporary mainstream literature, and eventually all these people simply won't matter anymore.

You can buy the book directly from Amazon.com.

Love to you all!

James M. Weil

Catherine Zeta-Jones is Diagnosed with Bipolar II

2011-04-21T18:30:00.002-04:00

There is nothing courageous about Catherine Zeta-Jones admitting she suffers from bipolar II, considering how many millions of people suffer from the same disease. I am, however, glad she made her disease public, just to raise awareness of bipolar disorder to so many people who have stigmatized this disease with crazy people. Nothing further from the truth could be told.

It is unfortunate that she was diagnosed so late in life, just as I was, because who knows how many years she suffered in silence. She should be thankful she is not bipolar I, because then she would be doing battle with manic episodes that could potentially tear her apart. Instead, she suffered from deep depression and probably small bouts with hypo-mania, a mild high, which is a common manifestation for people with bipolar II.

Now that she has been properly diagnosed, she can be properly treated and not suffer so much from the mood swings that are so prevalent with this disease. Her condition does not surprise me in the least; many very creative people with high IQ’s suffer from bipolar disorder to varying degrees, some more high-functioning than others.

I have enormous respect for Catherine as an actress, woman and role model. Beyond everything else she is a devoted wife and mother of two. And the fact that she did battle with her disease for so long and maintained her composure is a true testament to her strength and character. Let’s hope that she does more to make others aware of this debilitating disease.

Jeanne Claude Van Damme, the martial artist and movie star from Brussels, was also diagnosed with bipolar disorder late in life, but not until it nearly destroyed his career and personal life. Van Damme once said that he used martial arts as a way to quell the rage and wild mood swings that are so prevalent with people who suffer from bipolar I. I can empathize completely; I did the same through 25 years of serious study of the martial arts, until I herniated two discs in my lower back, thus ending any athletic career besides yoga and meditation.

So there you have it, folks! Superstars with bipolar disorder who are not raving lunatics, but talented, productive people who have left their mark on the world in all that they do. Van Damm is doing much better now that he has found treatment, and his personal and professional lives are getting back on track. I hope Catherine Zeta-Jones also finds relief from her depression, and that she and Michael Douglas enjoy each other for years to come. I know they are very happy together—a very rare occurrence in Hollywood romances.

Love to you all!

Five Keys To Understanding Men

2011-04-21T12:02:00.008-04:00

Five Keys To Understanding Men: A Woman’s Guide by Susan Mary Malone and Gary L. Malone, MD.

Susan Mary Malone approached me a few weeks ago about making a witty post about Five Keys on her facebook page without reading the book. Of course, I was glad to help, but told her I would rather buy the book, read it and then tell people what I really think of the book.

I was immediately drawn into the depth and brilliant psychoanalytical profile of the male psyche that was so clearly explained through the combined efforts of Gary’s enormous professional knowledge and Susan’s amazing gift to make the obtuse explainable to just about anyone.

The book takes you on a journey explaining the male psyche from infancy into manhood, told from a clinical prospective, with lots of case studies to illustrate what happens to men when they subconsciously respond to the overpowering, instinctive forces that drive them.

For many, the psychological growth of men remains a well-hidden secret, understood only by professionals, but in Five Keys, these secrets are revealed and explained, giving the reader a clear, concise picture of the underlying, powerful impulses that make men who they are.

Yes, the consequences of different upbringings and attachments to parents are explored, and there are many examples shown of what to look for in a healthy individual, as well as what to look for in one who may be emotionally damaged.

But, beyond that, there are lots of advice given to help women cope with what men are going through as they respond to important life changes and other stressors that affect the deepest regions of their psyches.

This book is a must read for men as well. I have gained enormous insight into myself as a result of reading Five Keys, and I am forever changed by this powerful book. I urge all men to read Five Keys. Men will appreciate the depth of the book, and will gain invaluable knowledge to help them with their coping skills as they plunder through life (like most men do) and will help them better understand the underlying psychological forces that drive them.

The book is easy to read, but don’t be mistaken by its readability; there is an awful lot of brilliant information packed into this wonderful book, and once read, you will be forever enlightened by the enigma of what drives men, and that although men are most certainly different from women, Five Keys definitively proves that men can be understood, despite what has driven so many women out of their minds for years and years.

I give Five Keys five stars. *****

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Recent Reviews of Swiss Chocolate

2011-04-21T09:39:00.000-04:00

REVIEWS ON JAMESWEIL.COM

“Drew Smith didn’t have a choice about boarding school in the Swiss Alps, but once there, he falls in love with the beauty not only the area, but of Alexandra as well. Of course, the path to true love never did run true, and such is the case for the young lovers. Caught in the act, Drew is sent home to the same family who rejected him to begin with, and the results sentence him to a life of longing for all that he lost.

James Weil has written a funny, poignant, and often heart-wrenching story of the passions of youth, and of what happens when those are stolen from us. A beautiful tale. A must read.”

Susan Mary Malone
Author of: By The Book; Fourth and Long: the Kent Waldrep Story; Five Keys for Understanding Men; BodySculpting
See Malone’s short stories on Amazon Shorts!
______________________________________________

“James Weil has written a fun, sexy story about a boy coming of age. Drew is a character we can all relate to on his travels into manhood. Great writing and a wonderful story that will make you laugh and cry.”

Joann Hamann Buchanan
Host of “Around the Coffee Pot” on Blog Talk Radio
Cofounder of “Slaves to the Muse” with Tami Snow
Coauthor of “Shadows of This World” due out in 2011
______________________________________________

“Swiss Chocolate is a wonderfully written tale about the blush of first love between Drew and Alexandra, two young people from different worlds. Though as time passes they go on to lead separate lives, however, they never forget the love they felt in the past, which turns out to be both a blessing and a curse. You will thoroughly love reading it.”

Chamein Canton
Chamein Canton Literary Agency
Bestselling author of ten romance novels
______________________________________________

AMAZON REVIEWS

Swiss Chocolate by James Weil, March 24, 2011
Swiss Chocolate is the type of American novel that is difficult to put down. Once you start, you are in for a deeply moving adventure of love and coming of age.

James Weil is a master of character development and human relations. Drew Smith, a troubled though gifted and sincere lad from a semi-functional, suburban NJ upper-middle class home--tennis club, private schools, alcoholic mom and philandering engineer-businessman father. There is "old money" in this family. Alexandra is an Italian aristocratic beauty: graceful, independent and determined to maintain what is rightfully hers. Weil's depiction of their family lives, environments and social class is extraordinarily well done. Weil has a sociological gift. I especially enjoyed Drew's Aunt Tess, an artist and cosmopolitan. We all should have an Aunt Tess in our lives.

The action takes place in the Swiss Alps, suburban New Jersey, London, Oxford, Rome, Greece, Spain and Padua. Weil makes these locations come alive.

I identified with Drew's struggle to become a man and a writer, notwithstanding the betrayal of his callous father and the despair of his helpless mom. Alexandra deals with her loving father's early death and the resulting insanity and self-destructiveness of her mother. Her brother, at her mother's insistence, assumes all the power and wealth in the family. Alexandra is determined to make a new life, defying the social mores of her class and society. She will not be undercut by fate. The powerful interaction between Drew and his first love, Alexandra, makes the book riveting. A must read.

A Powerful Fictional Memoir, March 12, 2011
'Swiss Chocolate' is a great book.....among the best I've read in awhile. Honest, straight-forward, exciting and tragic. The Author has a simple, yet elegant style. He is very open about Drew's life in a dysfunctional family and his love of Alexandra, that spans decades. He has a gift for expressing intricate details of the beautiful places he travels. You feel like you're right there with him on his journey. I highly recommend it.

Powerful Stuff, March 2, 2011
A brutally honest fictional memoir about a young man's coming-of-age and, years later, the same man in middle age coming to terms with his past. Compelling, exhilarating, tragic. Dealing with first loves, childhood, marriage and life's dreams, this is a book for everyone. I couldn't put it down. Highly recommend.

Gelati's Scoop, March 2, 2011
The name of the novel has nothing to do with how to make or even eat chocolate. Was I bummed? No I was shocked. But being lucky enough to know the author, James Weil as a Facebook buddy, I should have expected it. Be forewarned, this is some intense and in your face material. What is between the covers of this novel- to the synopsis:
"Drew Smith, a teenager from a wealthy family in New Jersey, is sent to a Swiss Boarding School and falls in love with Alexandra Cavalletti, a beautiful, aristocratic girl from Rome. The innocence of their love affair turns disastrous when they are expelled after being caught in the middle of their young passion. Drew returns home to his dysfunctional family and Alexandra's life is affected when her mother goes insane and sells off the family fortune for a song. Despite their travails, Drew and Alexandra remain in contact and cross paths over the years. Drew never really let's go of her, even though she moves on."
During the summer I was fortunate enough to get a glimpse of James' writing when he shot me over a short story he had written, so I had an inkling as to what was to come. His writing is intense, heartfelt and brutally honest, laying it out there for all to see .For some that is hard to read let alone to write. I am going to say this is a daring move, exposing such deep feelings to so many people. The thing is, if you get to know the guy, you will see that he does that on a daily basis, he wears it all on his sleeve, good or bad, for everyone to consume, kudos. His novel is a mirror reflection of himself: raw, uncensored, and brutally honest. That is the reason for the five stars: total and complete honesty of self. I don't believe I have read it to this degree before. To believe what I've written, go to his Facebook page, become his friend, experience James Weil and then decide if I am not point on here. I am just trying to be honest.

Swiss Chocolate, March 1, 2011
This book kept me up all night to finish. It made me so sad at times but I truly enjoyed it and find myself thinking about some of the characters in the novel. For anyone who grew up with a drunken parent, many of the experiences will ring true and regretfully seem normal. I loved reading about the adventures in Europe and felt like I was there with him. Very compelling. I highly recommend it.

Beautifully Written, March 1, 2011
I tore through this contemporary mainstream novel which tells of a romance spanning nearly 40 years between a young, aristocratic girl from Rome, and an upper-class American from Rumson, New Jersey. Set against the backdrop of political and economic turmoil that so strongly affected ideals and lives from the early 1970's through the turn of the millennium, this book spans six countries telling an emotionally-poignant tale of the human struggle to find happiness and one's natural place amongst all the change. James Weil tells a story that reminds us of the fragility of beauty in life, and the importance of protecting perfection when we find it, and how so often, perfection is there, but our eyes and minds are too narrow to see.

New Talent Is My Passion

2011-04-21T07:02:00.004-04:00

I am by no means a prolific writer, but I do keep my hands in the business of writing. I work very closely with my agent, Chamein Canton. Aside from being a bestselling romance writer who has ten books published, she also runs her agency fulltime.

I spend a lot of time reading queries and manuscripts for her. She has authorized me to offer contracts to writers I really fall in love with. Mostly I look for unpublished writers with great potential. A few months ago, I befriended Joann Buchanan on facebook, and I went to her blog and read the first chapter of I AM WOLF. I fell in love with her writing, and asked her if she was finished. She said she still had a ways to go.

Shortly after that the Fiction Editor of Book Reviews for the L.A. Times read her first chapter as well, and sent her a message asking when the book would be out because he wanted to read it. Joann contacted me in a panic and asked me what she should do. I told her to tell him that she just found representation by an established agent, and that her manuscript was in the process of editing.

Somewhat shocked by what I told her, I asked her to check her email. I had just sent her an author-agent agreement and wrote that she needed to print two copies, sign them and send them off to Chamien. I then told her I would personally edit her manuscript at no charge, because Joann is a struggling mother of four, and couldn't afford to pay my rates. Chamein flipped when I told her what I had done, and said she would drive to my house and kill me if she didn't like the manuscript. I had no doubts about Joann's ability. Her story was so compelling and her writing is beautiful.

She finished the manuscript and sent me the bones. There was a lot to work with, and I knew right away what a completly unique story she wrote. We spent a month working together to pull the manuscript into shape. Joann was an enormous pleasure to work with; she knew right away what I wanted and why when I asked for changes, and continually blew me away with how brilliantly she executed exactly what I was looking for. She was always right on the money.

At the end of it, I submitted the manuscript to Chamein, and she liked the story a lot. She especially liked the multi-cultural aspects of the book, and the fact that this was no ordinary werewolf story.

In Joann's own words I submit to you her teaser that she wrote for Chamein:

"We all take the form we are meant to take. Angel. Devil. Monster. Hero. We are all the same in our fates. Based on our choices, we become what we really are. I AM WOLF is a coming of age story centering around Jonah, city kid forced to live on a Native American Reservation with his grandparents, because he is coming into his own natural abilities- he’s becoming a wolf.

Natural versus unnatural, Jonah must learn to control his own abilities in order to kill a werewolf he accidentally created. Together with the love of his life, and his newfound youngling pack, Jonah races head on into manhood and finds his destiny."

Joann has just finished her sequel, and she has been invited to write short stories for two separate anthologies. She also cowrote a book with three other writers called SHADOWS OF THIS WORLD, with the proviso that all proceeds go to a town in Italy that was devastated by an earthquake. The book got picked up by XOXO Publishing, and is due out next year sometime.

Currently, I AM WOLF is at seven major publishing houses, and Joann is going out of her mind waiting for answers. That alone is phenominal for a first-time novelist, and really demonstrates the uniqueness of the story.

But rather than sit around and wait for answers, Joann is busy making a name for herself through her blog talk radio show, "The Eclectic Artist Cave," which is now airing five days a week, and is about to become nationally syndicated. She interviews writers, musicians, actors and comedians, and the response to her show is overwhelming.

Joann is a prolific writer who experiments in all genres. I have no doubts about her future success as a sparkling new voice in the literary world.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Family Is Everything

2011-04-20T16:33:00.012-04:00

Family is everything. I have heard so many say that on so many occasions I have no idea how to respond. Family for me is something to be avoided and kept at arm’s length. Although my mother is no longer with us, she was a very toxic element in my life, and I kept as far away from her as I could.

My father was abusive and mean when we were growing up. A few years ago he came to me and said, “When my father died I didn’t give a damn, and I don’t want you to feel the same about me when my time comes.” Since that day, we enjoyed a good friendship, and he was extremely generous and supportive. He paid my rent when I lost my job, helped pay the mortgage on the house, and even helped pay for lawyers.

Still, he had moments when he could be incredibly insensitive and mean. I will never forget last Father’s Day when I called him and asked if I could bring the kids down for the weekend. He called me back and told me no because he can’t deal with my son’s autism. You have no idea how much that hurt, and it took every ounce of strength I could muster not to lash out.

His wife has been a thorn in my side for the last twenty-five years. She goes out of her way to make me feel uncomfortable and inferior, and loves to put me down whenever she gets the chance. There are pictures of all of her grandchildren throughout her house, but there is not a single picture of mine. I suppose my father is partly to blame for this, but he does not interfere with matters of decorating the house, and lets her get away with it. Believe it or not, it hurts every time I walk into that house, knowing there is not one picture of my beautiful children to be found.

Beyond that, she emotionally abused my eleven-year-old daughter when she told her she could not have another piece of pie because she was too fat. Samantha was very upset about this and we talked about it on the way home. I told she was not fat, that she was a beautiful, little girl, and that my father’s wife was just mean. She agreed, and I made the decision not to go back there again.

With the publication of Harmony House, my father was so upset he told me he wanted nothing more to do with me ever again. Swiss Chocolate was just published, and so far he has said nothing about it. He did say that he would not read it, and to not market it in his area. I suppose he has taken the high road and simply chosen not to acknowledge it, which is truly a gift on his part.

For me, family means that when I am in trouble, the last place I can turn to is my family, because they don’t want anything to do with me, with the exception of my youngest sister, who is incredibly supportive and loving. However, she can’t handle hearing things that are a bit too intense and bring up unpleasant feelings. My oldest sister is so completely dysfunctional she has never held a job. My middle sister simply can’t deal with me, and although she read Swiss Chocolate, the only thing she could say about it was that it was difficult to read because it brought back so many painful memories. And I had to call her to find out how she liked it; she would never have called me.

Just recently I was granted a Default Judgment, and I am now divorced. Though I should be happy about this, there are still a lot of unresolved issues that need to be hammered out in court. So, if family is everything, who is my family? The answer is my children. They are my family. Nothing else matters but them. I need to focus on the love I have for my children to keep centered and my priorities in order.

I want Samantha to grow up knowing that she is loved and appreciated. And Andrew, although autistic, is a very bright, sweet young boy full of laughter and smiles. He can be a handful, but patience and understanding can go a long way if you try.

My children will ultimately be my salvation, and it is up to me to make sure they grow up having every opportunity I can give them. So, the next time someone tells me that family means everything, I will say, "True, but that only applies to my children."

That’s my answer. Honest, to the point, and no mincing words.

Love to you all!

James M. Weil

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

2011-04-19T14:32:00.002-04:00

Dylan Marlais Thomas (27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

-- Dylan Thomas

This is one of my all-time favorite peoms. It speaks to me on every level of my being. It is, without a doubt, one the greatest literary works of all time.

Pensieri Prematuri

2011-04-19T13:57:00.001-04:00

Photo by Steve Garfield

Premature thoughts
Like boats in the night
Tied securely to moonbeams
Break free of their moorings
And bump against each other
Their silent whispers
Spread through the port
By the lapping waves.

The Bipolar Spectrum and Management of the Disease

2011-04-18T23:25:00.003-04:00

Although the spectrum for bipolar disorder is rather wide, there are actually two major classifications for the disease—bipolar I and bipolar II. Bipolar I is considered much more serious, and most people with this classification are usually hospitalized when they go into mania or severe depression. People with bipolar II go into what is known as hypo-mania, a less severe form of mania.

What differentiates the two classifications is the severity of your manic episodes. I am bipolar I, although I have never once been hospitalized because of my disease. As my good friend Joey always tells me, my greatest gift is to accurately assess my own mental well-being, and get help when I need it, or talk myself out of some pretty hairy trees.

People with bipolar I usually hover on the manic side, and don’t take antidepressants unless they swing deeply in that direction. I rapid cycle, meaning my moods go up and down rather quickly, but generally stay pretty close to my baseline. We rate our moods from a -5 to a +5. The scale looks something like this: -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 +1 +2 +3 +4 +5.

Zero is our baseline, and we are completely stable at that level. A +1 is a slightly elevated mood. A +2 is a comfortable, happy high with lots of energy. At this level I can produce enormous amounts of work very quickly. I have astounded my boss on many occasions when I hit this zone and stay there for an extended amount of time. A +3 means you are probably not getting enough sleep, and need to stick to your sleep pattern. A +4 means get help immediately, and adjustments to your medication may be necessary. A +5 is when you are completely off the rails, and here you experience incredible highs with lots of energy, little or no need for sleep, a huge increase in your sex drive and often delusions of grandeur. This is a very dangerous place to be if you don’t get help because you are apt to be very self-destructive and can spend reckless amounts of money or take huge risks.

On the other end of the spectrum, there are rare occasions when I go into a deep depression, and thoughts of suicide are pervasive and overwhelming. My last depression lasted several months, and my doctor was thinking seriously about hospitalizing me, but I convinced him that these thoughts of suicide are just thoughts that come with the disease, and that I had never acted upon them in the past and had no intentions of acting upon them in the future. But I will tell you I was miserable beyond all belief, but still managed to go to my job everyday and produce. I just put it out of my head and concentrated on my work. Self-discipline is a very powerful thing.

My doctor does not worry about me. He knows how responsible I am and how seriously I take my mental health. My therapist, on the other hand, worries about me quite a bit because of all my anger issues and unhealthy situations and relationships I get involved in. We work well together because all my years of introspection have taught me to be brutally honest about what I feel and think, and I express it so succinctly in our sessions, although I have a tendency to go off on tangents, which drives him crazy. Anger, without a doubt, as I have made clear in so many earlier posts, is my biggest demon. But together we are wrestling with it, digging deep within my psyche to find the source, deal with it, and let it go. There are other issues that we deal with, but my anger is on the front burner for now.

My regimen consists of 2,000mg of Depakote, a powerful mood stabilizer; 500mg of Seroquel, an antipsychotic; 3mg of Clonazepam, an anti-anxiety; and 10mg of Ambien, a sleep aid. These are hefty doses of medication. There are other regimens, and I have tried a variety of them. Lithium is considered a leading standard for treating bipolar disorder, but my system can’t tolerate it, so we changed up my medication until we found a combination that works.

Sleep is the most important thing you can do for bipolar disorder, and without a regular sleep pattern you are asking for trouble. Ironically, the first thing that happens to you when you go into mania is sleep deprivation. It feeds upon itself until you completely wipe out your system. For some, their manic episodes are so severe that hospitalization is their only option. For me, writing a full-length novel in a matter of weeks does the trick, and keeps me out of the hospital, but I do pay a heavy toll afterwards in that I am incapable of functioning for about a week.

I hope this discourse has provided an education and some insight into what many people with bipolar disorder suffer through. This is not an easy disease to live with, but it can be managed with the right regimens and behavioral training. Beyond doing individual therapy, I am also in a support group for people with bipolar disorder. Some of us are more high-functioning than others. There are a few guys in my group who are so debilitated by their disease they are on disability. I find that heartbreaking, and wish I could do or say something to help them cope with their disease more effectively. Several men in my group are going through divorces or have been recently divorced because their spouses can’t deal with their diseases. I have to admit this disease is hard to live with, but I am lucky in that I am very high-functioning, and hold an important job with the State of New York. I get along very well with my coworkers, and adore my boss. For the last four years I have gotten glowing annual reviews that are beyond spectacular.

This year has been tough, however, because the publication of my debut novel has had ramifications I wasn’t expecting, and I have had trouble concentrating on my job. I need to turn that around and really focus on what’s important. My job is paramount, and I need to keep it. I have many responsibilities to my family, and provide my ex-wife with enough child support to make sure my kids have all that they need. This is important to me, and I take the well-being of my children seriously. My lawyer and I are in the process of nailing down the details of my visitation rights much more concretely, and the matter of the house was never decided because I was given a Default Judgment. That will be decided as well.

Love to you all!

James M. Weil

Facebook

2011-04-18T06:29:00.002-04:00

Last Saturday I made the decision to deactivate my facebook account and stay away from that forum for awhile. There were many reasons for this decision, but the main reason was that I was venting my anger on a public forum, which made a lot of people uncomfortable, not to mention what it was doing to my own comfort level.

I have made many posts about anger, and how destructive it can be. My therapist and I are digging pretty deep into my psyche to find the true source of the anger, and ways to deal with it more constructively. Writing helps, but I am not prolific, and I cannot simply write on demand. But it will take a lot more than just writing to deal with this problem.

To be perfectly honest, at my age anger shouldn’t be such a big issue anymore, but I have talked to many people on facebook and several support groups who are filled with rage because of what they went through as kids. This is not how I want to live my life, so I continue digging deep inside myself with the help of my therapist to get to the root of it all, and hopefully find a way to let it go.

Anger is a cancer that consumes you, and roils deep in your psyche until everything goes black and all that you can think about is doing damage to yourself and others. Even though I am aware of when I have these moments of darkness, there is nothing I can do to stop them, except to try to keep them under control and not lash out.

Wish me luck on my quest to vanquish such self-destructive rage. Acknowledging it is the first step in dealing with it, but I have known about it for years and years, yet I have never been able to control it very effectively. Maybe now I will be able to see inside myself with the help of my therapist, deal with the pain that is causing all this anger, and then let it go and be happy.

Life is too short to be so miserable.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

The Violinist

2011-04-17T11:51:00.001-04:00

Some of the most amazing musicians I have ever heard have been in the bowels of the New York City subway system. I have heard everything from truly gifted vocalists to jazz bands that could rival the best. This is only part of what makes New York City so great.

I take the 6 train from 51st and Lexington one stop downtown to Grand Central, where I jump on the 7 express to Flushing-Main Street. On dozens of occasions I have heard a master violinist standing at the foot of the stairwell going down from the 6 platform to the 7 train. I always stop for a few minutes to listen to her play. She is a master—no doubt about it—and her music is filled with stunning precision and breathtaking passion. On several occasions I was nearly moved to tears by a Mozart concerto or a Vivaldi piece.

Last Friday, I was extremely lucky because as I approached her she was just finishing a piece by Beethoven. I dropped a twenty-dollar bill into her violin case and she handed me a CD. We talked for a few minutes. She had been studying violin since the age of five, and had played in several major symphonies. She practiced for hours on end in the subway to earn a bit of extra money, and perhaps connect with aficionados who appreciated the Masters.

I always carry a copy of Swiss Chocolate with me, and I showed her my debut novel, explaining that the book just came out, and that it had gotten six 5 star reviews on Amazon. She read the synopsis on the back, and I told her about where I got the inspiration for the book. She seemed fascinated by the story, and I handed her a bookmark, directing her to my website where she could read more about me and my work. In return, she handed me one of her business cards.

I intend to call her sometime next week, and ask her if she is interested in having coffee. Amazing things happen in New York, and there are opportunities everywhere for all kinds of magical things, be it a simple friendship based on appreciation for the finer things in life, or just hearing some truly gifted artists who put their heart and soul into what they do as subways go roaring past them.

I do love working and living in New York City, even if it is way beyond my means and I live like a pauper. But this city has so much to offer; you just need to find out where and when to go to wonderful cultural events that are within your means and available to all.

Wishing all of you a wonderful Sunday!

James M. Weil

A Day at the Frick

2011-04-17T10:57:00.001-04:00

Yesterday, I took my eleven-year-old daughter, Samantha, to the Frick. I originally wanted to take her to the Guggenheim, but it had sold out when I tried to purchase tickets on the internet at 6:00 am that morning. I was a little disappointed because there were some really great exhibits there this weekend, but, as it turned out, going to the Frick was a better choice because the Frick collection contains the best of the best of some the earliest masters.

This was Samantha’s first time at an art museum, and I was anxious to see how she reacted to really fine art. I was pleasantly surprised by her delight at everything she took in. She was astounded by the amazing architecture, the gorgeous antique furniture, the paintings that she studied with utter fascination, Frick’s taste in delicate statues and even the splendid Persian rugs that covered the floors of the main rooms.

We both took audio devices, and next to each painting or statue was a number which you punched in and then hit play. Samantha wanted to know about every single piece, and was fascinated by the short discourses about the artists and their work. Although Frick was not a major fan of the Impressionists, he did have a few important pieces. Samantha fell in love with them. I explained to her that Frick’s collection of Impressionism was atypical because the ones he chose were somewhat dark, unlike the majority of the movement, where everything was depicted in soft pastels and full of light. I will take her to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where there is a much more extensive collection of Impressionist work.

We stayed several hours until we both got hungry and had seen every major piece. I took her to Lumi on Lexington and 70th, a really fine Italian restaurant. Samantha had the ravioli and I had fettuccine Bolognese. The food was extraordinary and Samantha was happy. After lunch we shared a delicious piece of chocolate cake, and I finished with a cappuccino.

As we left the restaurant it started raining in buckets, so we decided to go back up to Rockland County to the Palisades Mall and go see a movie. Thankfully the traffic wasn’t bad, considering how hard it was raining. Samantha said she wanted to see “Hanna.” The movie didn’t start for another hour and a half, and Samantha said she wanted ice cream from the Cold Stone Creamery. The ingredients she chose were pretty creative—strawberries, chocolate chips, walnuts and peanut butter in vanilla ice cream. They slap the ice cream on a frozen stone, throw in the ingredients and mix them all together using two putty knives. Too rich for me, but Samantha loved it.

We walked around the huge mall and did a bit of window shopping. I bought her a really cool cover for her iPhone 4—a picture of a tiger stalking its way toward you on the back. The movie started and we were lucky to have gotten there early to get the seats Samantha wanted because the theatre was packed. Hanna was a great action/thriller, and I was riveted throughout the entire show. Samantha loved it just as much as I did. She said she wanted to be Hanna in the sequel. We talked about the movie, and Samantha said that Hanna only wanted to be happy and have a normal life. She was convinced she got what she wanted.

It was time to take her home, so we got in my car and started up the Palisades Parkway to Spring Valley. We both had a wonderful day, and I know this will be a day she will cherish forever. I hope there will be many more like this one with both of my kids. It’s really too bad Andrew’s autism would never allow him the patience to enjoy an art museum, but there are so many other things that he can enjoy, and I will be there to make sure that he enjoys all that he can.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

Anger is not Healthy

2011-04-15T13:15:00.004-04:00

Click on Picture to See Hysterical Video

There are times when my anger takes control over my psyche, and I find myself in a very dark place. Anger is one of my biggest issues, an unfortunate side-effect of child abuse and having your spirit crushed by callous parents. Years of torment by cruel children who seem to instinctively know when another is hurting and hone in on them and bully them relentlessly is yet another cross to bear, and can also leave deep scars. At least that was the case with me during my younger years.

It is during these times when I have to exercise a lot of self-control, and not allow my anger to get the best of me. There are times I do lash out, and I have no tolerance for abusive people. This took a long time to learn, because people who were abused as children internalize what they went through, and because their self-esteem has been ripped away from them, they gravitate toward relationships and situations that cause them more pain. It takes a lot of work and years of therapy to overcome these issues, and to break the pattern of self-abuse, and abusiveness toward others, which is often what happens to adults when they were abused as children. The cycle of child abuse is difficult to break, and it takes great courage, conviction and dedication to face your demons and exorcise them.

Most of my writing is my way of coping with my anger and pain, and therefore I write with brutal honesty. I have learned to be brutally honest in therapy and with my friends. Some can handle it, most cannot. As an editor and writer, I am compassionate toward others, and it is because of all that I went through I can empathize so well with so many people and the pain that everyone suffers from time to time.

However, when my anger roils and erupts from the depths of my psyche, I have a tendency to become extremely self-absorbed, self-destructive and destructive toward others. All of this is compounded by my bipolar disorder, which makes things even more complicated because of my many mood swings. But, believe it or not, it is my medication and talk therapy that keeps things balanced and in check.

I have a strong relationship with my children, a great job, a lot of success as a writer and editor, and I do have a strong, core group of loving, supportive friends who would do just about anything for me. For me, this is extremely important. My friendships are what sustain me, and without them I would be lost. They understand and know when my anger is coming on, or I am in danger of going into mania. They are, without a doubt, the most amazing people I have ever known.

Love to all!

James M. Weil

The Elusive Muse and Bipolar Disorder

2011-03-30T20:32:00.003-04:00

There is no question that when I write, I do so with great passion and brutal honesty. Although I tend to write mostly about my life, I have written books that have nothing to do with me at all, but what I have experienced firsthand, such as my trip to Colombia with my ex-wife several years ago, when I visited her father’s finca in the mountains above the town of El Aguila, hence the title of my second novel, a heart-wrenching story about the cafeteros who get forced into growing coca when the bottom drops out of the coffee market. It is told from the eyes of a seventeen-year-old girl who watches her parents get murdered by the guerillas and the military when all hell breaks loose over control for the town. It is a story told with immense passion and my firsthand experience with Colombia and the coffee fincas in the Andes.

But mostly my writing comes from somewhere deep inside me, and when I do my most serious writing I am usually in mania. Being bipolar is both a gift and a curse. When I go into mania I reach creative heights most people will never experience, but on the downside, I need to avoid going into mania if I want to maintain any normalcy in my life. I take enough medication to bring down a horse, and a normal person could possibly be killed by the enormous amounts of medication I need to control my manic episodes, but without them, I would be completely over the top, and I certainly would never be able to hold the kind of job I have with the State of New York.

Regardless, every so often I do have a major manic episode, and that’s when I tap into my innermost psyche and write what’s at the bottom of my heart. And I do it with shameless honesty, baring my deepest secrets, demons, degenerate impulses and desires and could care less about what others think. This is what I call true artistic integrity, and I push the envelope of what is acceptable.

Esmeralda, my third novel, was written in just over three weeks while in the midst of one of the most violent manic episodes of my life. My agent has been shopping it around for awhile, and some of the responses I get from editors who care only about Chick Lit have made me laugh uproariously. Some are simply horrified at the brutal honesty and rawness of the story; others have actually taken the manuscript seriously, and it has gone up for Editorial Review twice.

My publisher told me he would take the manuscript if I wrote out the incredibly raw, graphic sex. However, he was unwilling to offer me a contract, which I took as a show of incredible bad faith, and besides, I am adamant the sex should stay exactly as it is, and I told him he is the wrong publisher for this book. Not one editor besides my publisher complained about the graphic sex; they had other objections about the story and the main character, but other than that it is too literary to be considered erotica, and too raunchy to be considered mainstream.

I will keep shopping it around until I find a home for it. Believe me, the damn book wrote itself. How else could anybody write 100,000 words in just over three weeks? I was aware of my characters as they played out in my head, but I was so jacked up I didn’t sleep for three, full weeks, and the book came gushing out of me as if I were not fully conscious of what I was writing at all. I can pretty much guarantee it will turn a few heads once it is published. Until then, I will bide my time, and laugh at the rejections of the horrified editors who just don’t understand the implications of what I accomplished. But, sooner or later, someone will pick it up and take it to press, and I am confident people will appreciate the raw truth in the story.

You can read samples of my work on www.jamesweil.com.

All my love,

James M. Weil.

The Premise

2011-03-17T22:11:00.002-04:00

Love is never angry
Even if it hurts
Like an angry mob
In the heat of mindless sorrow
That twists you up
Like a car wreck in the night
Leaving you scarred and bleeding
Love is never angry
Even when it hurts . . .
Sorrow turns to tenderness
Regrets turn to memories
Love is never angry
When tears force their way
Through the pain
Letting go of love so deep
Rips you apart
In violent shuddering moments of
Magnanimous gestures
That finally fade to serenity

On Writing Swiss Chocolate

2011-03-17T07:12:00.009-04:00

A View of the Mediterranean from the Bluffs of Ibiza

I wrote Swiss Chocolate out of utter despair off the top of my head for nine months solid. At the end of it I was left with 600 pages of pain and anguish. I was undiagnosed bipolar at the time, and was in the midst of some of the wildest mood swings I had ever experienced, so the amount of passion that went into my writing was phenomenal. If it weren’t for that book I may have done something serious to hurt myself, or at the very least landed in the hospital.

The inspiration for the story came from a young Italian girl I had a crush on when I was a teenager in a Swiss boarding school. As the years went by, every so often I would thumb through my yearbook, stop at her picture and sigh. Although we were never really friends, my last year at school I signed her yearbook for her. I wrote: “It’s a shame we never got to know each other better, but I wish you the best of luck in life.”

Thirty years later the impossible happened. She contacted me through classmates.com. We exchanged emails on a regular basis, and then it became occasional phone calls. After several months of correspondence I decided to fly to Ibiza to meet her where she lived with her four children and three au-pairs. As it turned out she was a very wealthy woman who had built her fortune on her own.

Although we both had aged quite a bit, she was still stunning and she took my breath away when she greeted me at the airport. It didn’t take long for me to fall in love with her, and after telling me her life story, I realized we had a lot in common. I thought I truly had found my soul-mate, but as it turned out she was in love with another man who wanted nothing to do with her. Still, no matter how much I pleased her, and all the wonderful times we had together, she could not purge him from her heart, and she ended up breaking mine.

I gave up everything for this woman: my job, my house, my family and career, and went back to the U.S. a broken man. Out of the ashes of such a tragic ending I weaved her life story with mine into a love story that spans nearly thirty years, and takes place in several different countries, all of which I have lived in for extended periods of time.

What makes this story so unique is that it is about two young people who come from great wealth, and what happens to them when all they expect out of life is swept out from under them, leaving them with an undying longing for all that was lost, and what they will do to regain what they once had and expected out of life.

Her story is true, and so is mine, but this is a fictionalized memoir. The merging of our tragic fates is what makes this story so heart-wrenching and powerful. I hope you enjoy the book.

You can buy the book directly from Amazon.com.

All my love,

James M. Weil

The Love of the Written Word

The Kiss

Poem from A Friend

Dat Shit Crazy Moose!

Just in Case Anybody Should Ever Forget

Phantom Page

You Nailed It, Reverand

Urban Survival

The Blog Farm

Esmeralda

Beware the Beast of Amazon

The Money Tree

The Brave New World of Publishing

Cell Phone Nightmares

Set Your Shit Straight

The State of the Publishing Industry

Happy New Year!

Looking Good, Feeling Good

The Perils of being Over-Medicated

Two Little Hitlers by Elvis Costello

Getting back into Shape

How to Sell Books at Book Events

Writing Seriously

The Partial

Barnes & Noble on Rittenhouse Square in Philadelphia

Writing from the Heart

September 11, 2001

The Rock

This Year's Girl

Catherine Zeta-Jones Talks Openly About Her Struggle with Bipolar Disorder on NBC News

A Whole New Approach to Therapy

Rage

Book Event at Novelteas in Red Bank, NJ

Book Event at Bay Plaza, Bronx Barnes & Noble

Blogger is Broken

When Dreams Come True

Swiss Chocolate Gets Another Five-Star Review on Amazon

A Radical Change to my Diagnosis

Book Event

Amazon Takes Over the World!

On Writing Swiss Chocolate Slips off into the Sunset

When Friends Take Advantage

Book Sales

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Do E-Cigarettes Really Work?

Sleepless Nights

Taking Responsibility

Russian Scam Artists

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On Friendship

River Road Books

Martial Arts as A Way of Life

An American Poet

The Aftermath of a Psychiatric Crisis

Sinking Into the Maelstrom of Madness

Terror on the Cross Bronx Expressway

Black Hackers vs White Hackers

Controlling my Impulses

My Inability to Focus on My Job

Tragic Endings That Could Have Been Avoided

Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood

Bipolar Depression - The Opposite End of the Scale

Weekend Blues

Burning Bridges

Michael Douglass Says Catherine Zeta-Jones' Welsh Background Kept Her Quiet About Her Disease

Horror Stories on Match.com

Our Little Angel

Kenny Bayside

Promoting Your Book is Where the Real Work Begins

River Road Books Event

The Beauty of a Small Publisher

Introspection is Healthy

Easter Dinner

Men Who Suffer in Silence

When the Little Boy Stands Up and Becomes A Man

Swiss Chocolate Continues to be Painful

Catherine Zeta-Jones is Diagnosed with Bipolar II

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