I am not the best author or writer in Toledo despite winning that very award today from the Toledo City Paper.
First, there are more proficient, prolific, more talented and more accomplished writers and authors amongst Toledo’s rich and diverse pool of writers, and second, best isn’t really a thing amongst artists until a certain rarified air. I’ll debate the best of many genres of art with you on a good stoned evening, but I’ll hold fast to my belief that the only competition I’ve ever been in, is am I the best writer I can be? So far, my writing keeps getting better the longer I do it, and that’s the only thing I’ve ever measured myself against.
And yes, this award was a reader nomination and then vote once a day kind of contest, and I know a lot of people. So, I take the award with a few grains of salt dulling the sheen, but I’ll take it nonetheless.
Yes, it was a contest where your friends could vote once a day, but to be fair, I’ve met the majority of my 2,500 Facebook friends through being a UAW chief steward, or being a poet and writer. Anyone not in those groups ain’t allowed to tell you how they met me, because of the second word in the 12 step program.
And to be even more fair, I’m comfortable standing on the belief that after years of working at it nearly everyday of my life, I am ONE of the best writers and authors in Toledo.
This is someday going to bite me in the ass, but I’m not good at keeping track of my writing. I can’t remember sometimes which poem was published where, and I have no idea how many pieces of poetry I’ve had published, or where. I’ve never kept a list. Hell, I rarely know the day, the time, or lunar cycle we’re in either.
But one time I was asked to fill out an “artist resume” for a grant, and by the time I was done listing the things I could remember: the publications, significant readings, big benefits I’ve helped support, books, reviews, interviews and all that jazz looks real goddamned impressive if I ever cared about it much.
But I don’t. I only care about the next poem I write. The next book I need to get cracking on. I only care about getting my work out there so people have a chance to find it. But I’ve worked really hard to be a writer everyday despite surviving homelessness, alcoholism, halfway houses, terrible mental health, and despite 60 hour work weeks in the factory forever, and sometimes the pat on the back and hug of reassurance that I am indeed a good writer is a welcome one. If you’ve read my work, you know a lot of the things I’ve overcome to be the man and writer I am today. Not many ever survive the life I’ve lived and get to be an elected chief steward in one of the largest unionized auto plants in the U.S. Most bipolar homeless alcoholics don’t become published writers. Most certainly don’t get voted the best author in their city.
And sometimes, a big, giant cool moment like this comes crashing through the daily traffic noise fog of life, and I take a moment to bask in the totality of the life I’ve lived, and think about how many goddamned times a less determined human might have quit.
In 2016 I won the Toledo City Paper’s annual poetry contest. The same paper that’s giving me this best of award today. It was judged by Joel Lipman, Lucas County’s first poet laureate. That was a huge turning point for me. It gave me the belief that I could be a good writer if I kept working. Joel is a friend and an invaluable supporter these days. He’s loaned and given me rare books to read, my favorite kinds of friends.
It was two more years before EMP Books published my first chapbook. Three years later in 2021, at the age of 42, before Punk Hostage published my first novel. And I’ve averaged a book a year since.
In 2022 I was even nominated for Lucas County Poet Laureate, an unbelievable honor to me, but I also declined the nomination and referred others that were more worthy.
Eight years after that big citywide poetry contest, I’ve been voted the best author/writer in Toledo, and if only you knew the true scope of that eight year journey. Even right now at this very moment, my writer life is way more bananas successful than I ever dreamed, and most everything else in my life is a struggle. Me and a lot of my most dear loved ones have been through a lot the last few months. The last few years really.
So, yeah man, I’ll take the award with the grains of salt, and like a wise man I met in an anonymous group once told me: “you can celebrate today but tomorrow we get back to work.” We were talking about my first sober anniversary. Some people call them birthdays. I understand why, and I’ve had a lot more birthdays since.
And this is something I’ll get to celebrate a lot actually. A few receptions and parties, and if you know me, I can enjoy a good celebration with the best of them. I’ll certainly be proud as fuck to add this to my updated author’s bio. But the work won’t take a day off, not even today, on one of my best days I’ve lived as a writer.
The work is all that matters, and it has cost me everything in life. Everything. As my third ex wife, the one time forever apple muse of my eye once told me, “you’re already married to your art.” And brother, she wasn’t wrong.
Today is Friday. Fuck it Friday. My favorite day. We smoke the good weed. Celebrate a thousand virtual hugs from the best friends and supporters a Midwestern blue collar writer could ever have. Today we boast a little. Brag some. Shed the goddamned inevitable grateful and happy tears alone and in silence. But today’s work has already began. And while I hope I never find a reason to quit, somedays the work is easier than others, and on the good ones, it hardly feels like work at all.
Thank you Toledo City Paper, my patrons that support me, those that buy my books, my thousands of friends and supporters, anyone that’s ever sat and listened to me read poetry, my publishers, and all of Toledo. Thank my kids for putting up with me, and as has been pointed out by all of them, it’s good to be loved polyamorously by incredible humans that support me beyond reason. So, thank you for voting your butts off and getting your friends to do the same.
I’m probably not the best writer in Toledo. And I’m ok with that. Once upon a time my only dream was to get a book published, and now I have three, with three more undergoing the months-to-a-year long publication process. I’m already living bigger than my biggest daydream, man. Now, I’m just real fucking happy to be a good writer. What a life.
Ps. The anonymous friend that taught me how to celebrate and work to change my life? I dedicated my most recent novel to him. You should check that shit out. He’d be real goddamned proud of me today.
Pps. My required reading honorarium just doubled. It’s now two pre-rolls and a hug.
Me winning the award for winning the Toledo City Paper’s annual poetry contest in 2016.
My current sexy author photo taken by PhotoDave photography in Toledo
A blurb from my last novel. Get a copy at www.magicaljeep.com
Man. What a hell of a Friday. Thank you everyone.
The task of writing down all your publications and all of your accomplishments when applying for grants, etc., that's known as your Vanity File. I've always liked that title and find it kind of comical trying to remember everything.
In your piece you mention giving up everything in order to write which reminds me of a few lines from one of my poems: "It will cost you everything/ which to me/ seems like a pretty fair deal."
Unfortunately, in our society and many others, that's the only chance a writer has. The rewards are greater than what it costs.
Enjoyed your piece and we're all proud of you.