Author Archives: C. A. Sanders

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About C. A. Sanders

Hi, everyone. I am a semi-established writer of fiction and non-fiction. I live in Rockland County, NY, where I ply my trade and occasionally get paid for it. You can see my full website, with links to published work and my blog, at www.casanders.net

2016 Never Happened

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On New Year’s Eve, Katie and I were driving to my friend’s place for a party. My mind tends to wander when I drive, and I come up with all sorts of weird thoughts…weirder than my usual thoughts, and my usual thoughts are already packets of mud and glitter that nobody understands.

The universe is 14 billion years old. Step back far enough to take it in, and it’s like 2016 never happened. Step back further, our lives never happened.

Humanity is about 200k years old. it’s like people never existed. We’re a blip, an anomaly. Archaeologists from some advanced species a billion years from now probably won’t even notice us.

Hell, it’s possible that other civilizations have been on Earth, but they lasted for such a short time that we’ll never know that they were here. Maybe there was a giant plant society that died out, or talking dinosaurs. Who the hell knows? They’re all blips. They never mattered. Neither do we, and 2016 is a blip of a year in a blip of a civilization in a blip of a species.

I feel better now. BRING ON INSIGNIFICANT 2017!!!

PS: I wish that I could step that far back. But scale matters, and I can’t see beyond the small scale. All I see are actions that cause dramatic reactions and pain. I know logically that it doesn’t matter, but I’ve not logical. I’m human, and that sucks.

cosmic-cat tripping balls redux

Chanukah

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menorah

This menorah has been in my family since before I was born. It was the one my father and mother lit, and now I keep that tradition alive.

I remember staring into the tiny flames, my head barely above the kitchen counter. I’m staring at them again, but from above.

And I wonder: who will light them when I am gone? Who will keep the tradition alive? Or does it end with me?

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On Love, Or, Love On

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I had a conversation with a friend of mine the other day. She is in a new relationship and madly in love with this guy. While talking about him, she said “I thought that I knew what love was with ____, but now I really know what it is with ____.”

I didn’t say anything at the time, and it wasn’t until later that I realized that something didn’t click with me. It’s about love.

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Humble Brag

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So the good news is that my blog broke 17,000 views the other day. I don’t know if that’s good or not, but it’s a few thousand more than last year. The bad news is that I was hoping to break 20,000, and it doesn’t look like I’m going to do that. Still, I’m happy.

gif-bear-in-big-blue-dancing

Less bragging:

I got my review for The Watchmage of Old New York back from the Writer’s Digest 24th Annual Self Published Book Awards. No, I didn’t win. I did score an average of 4 out of 5 though, but I feel that I could’ve done better. The full review pointed out some weaknesses, some i was aware of, some I was not. I’m considering posting the review. It’s brutally honest. My mood has been pretty shitty for some time now, and the review didn’t make me feel any better. I know that it’s a big contest and a 4/5 is pretty good considering that thousands enter. It just feeds into my insecurities that I’m not good enough. But hell, what good writer thinks they are? If you don’t think that your work is shit, you’ll never try to get better.

The constant rejection from agents has been hurting me too. I’ve pretty much given up.

Man, all of my stuff goes to dark places these days. I’m having trouble writing the 3rd Watchmage book. The second one is still in edit phase. My super secret romance project under a different name (shhhhh!) is almost ready, and the website going along with it is becoming something bigger than I expected. I don’t talk about sexuality here for good reason, but I’m human and it’s a big part of who I am. Like everyone else, I need to be loved…preferably as often and in as many different positions as possible. 😉

Ok, that’s why I don’t talk about it here.  Bad Craig! Naughty, evil Craig!

monty-python-zoot

Ok, I’m punching out. I’m freaking starvin.

doge-in-space-card-redux

 

She Smoked Menthols…

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She smoked menthols. Newports, I think, but they might have been Newport Lights, or 100s. It’s been almost four years, and these details have faded away.

She liked to wear black, but she had this tan, plaid skirt that she wore a lot. It looked good on her, but everything did. I loved how she did her makeup: dark eye shadow against pale foundation. It made those dark eyes stand out, but even on sleepy mornings, makeup free, long hair a mess, yawning and staggering out of bed in her Pac-Man pajamas that said “Eat Me,” her eyes always stood out. Maybe it was an illusion because I loved her so, but I don’t think it was. She was real, and her love held me together at a time when I was crumbling apart.

Tomorrow is Valerie’s birthday, and she will not be around for it. Val died in January of 2013. She is forever 35. She will not grow old like me. She will not grow old with me. She is permanently young in my memories, getting smaller in my rear view, details fading away.

But I know that she smoked menthols.

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