Why Are You A Writer

Why Are You A Writer?


Now, there’s a good question. Why do you do it? Why do spend hours of your life, almost all of your free time, hunkered over a keyboard, clicking away what’s inside your head?

Do most of us get paid for it?

Hell no.

Why do we do it?

Those who do not write assume that those of us who do write had a choice.

If you are a writer – and you know who you are  – then you never had a choice. Money and fame are a dream and secondary. This is what you must do. No choice.











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Tweet Reports

Tweet Reports

    I am sorry, I know I am old, as in fuddy-duddy. Anyone as old as me knows exactly what that means. Stuck in the past, set in his ways, its always worked, why change it?Yeah, I’m that guy.

When did social media become a means for reporting? When did it become a substitute for… oh, I don’t know…journalism? You know, the kind where you research a story, including actually interviewing someone. Stick a microphone or recorder in someone’s face and see what their reaction is to some really tough questions and then tell me about that!

Today this is the story.

A man is accused of killing his wife. He was arrested early this morning with a blood on his hands, an axe, duct tape, bone saw and some plastic. He was headed up the hills in his SUV with her body in the back.

Here’s what he had to say about the whole ordeal:

Cut to the social media feed…

Uh, I didn’t do it. I was washing my car. I was feeding my cat. It is really sad that I am being profiled for…fill in the blank.

Here’s a newsflash for all the news savvy people. We are who we want to be on the social media page. Of course, I didn’t do it. Unless it was a good thing, then, hell yes! I did it.

It gets worse. The rest of the report is about what everyone else thinks, again quoting the social media blurbs as if journalism is now subject to interpretation by all of the rest of us.

Don’t get me wrong. This is social media. I get it. I like it. We all have our opinions and I want to hear all of them.

Just not when someone who went to college and presumably earned a degree in journalism is reporting something to me.

Next time I write a story, I will just use tweets. No need to do the actual work.


Thanks for reading.






















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I Went Back

I Went Back

I went back there

After she stormed in out of the blue

If you had those memories in your head

I think you’d want to go back, too.


Tim Keen


Thanks for reading





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I Don’t Know

I Don’t Know

Out of the past she came

From a long time ago

I thought I’d buried it all

Now I don’t know


 A memory from decades ago


Thanks for listening


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Feeling Philosophical

I Didn’t Really Think This Through

Story of My Life

Worked So Far


How long do you sit in a pile of your own shit

Before you realize you’re the one who stinks?



Thanks for listening.



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Happy 4th

Happy 4th


This is brief post. Just a shout out to all the military, police officers, fire fighters, and medical personnel. Somewhere today, a life will be saved because these dedicated men and women did not take off for the 4th of July. We are in your debt.



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About Slasher Movies

About the Slasher Movies


Just a few things about the slasher movies that really irritate me.


There are never any guns in the slasher movies. There are more than two hundred and fifty million firearms in the United States alone, yet, no matter how remote the location of the movie scene, a gun is never present. I know no one ever goes camping thinking some asshole in a mask is going to kill you and all your friends, but did you ever stop to think about bears, wolves, mountain lions or coyotes? Toss a gun in the suitcase.

Of course, you can understand the reasoning behind it. The scary man in the mask with his knives and spears wouldn’t last too long if someone had just thought to bring a Glock along, or an AK-47. You see, the movie would last too long.

  Oh look! There’s a scary man in a mask and he’s got an ax! Bang! Bang! Bang! The end. Roll the movie credits. Total time of the movie? However long it took the director to set up the first scene plus three or four shots.

People always die during sex. I don’t how this got to be part of the slasher movie ritual, but it seems to be true. Have sex in a slasher movie and you might not make it through that encounter. Hope it was really good.

The girl is always the last one left in the movies, thus always the one that kills the man in the scary mask – unless it was watched by a lot of people. Then, we find out why the man in the scary mask is still alive. The men, you know the hunter, stalker, types, always get surprised by the man in the scary mask and get taken out quickly. I don’t if they lift weights, are professional boxers or Army Rangers. They’re gone and the poor, helpless, crying girl ends up finishing him off.

The girls who die before the final girl gets away always fall down, sometime more than once when she is running towards the car.

The car is always locked. Why the hell is it locked? You in the middle of the damned woods with only people you know! You afraid one of them is going to steal your shit?

The girls always drop the keys trying to get into the car. This made sense thirty years ago, but not now. Doesn’t every car have a remote key with a panic button? Use it for crying out loud!

There’s the other thing. The movie takes place in the wilderness with little electronically to drowned out noise. In other words, you could hear a pin drop. Yet, here is the young girl, running, screaming, and crying all the way back to the car that is locked because she went camping with thieves and no one takes time to poke their heads out the door to see what the hell is going on?

Isn’t that Julie? I wonder why she is screaming and yelling. You think she’s in danger?

            Never mind, dear. We can go check it out after we get done having sex.

            One last thing that always gets me about the slasher movies. You know if that girl does manage to get into that car, the son of a bitch is not going to start. Even if it does start, the man in the scary mask is going to rise up out of the backseat and slit her throat, so she can slump over the steering wheel and gurgle to death while the car runs into a tree going six miles an hour…

…and then explodes.

Wait, that is a rant for another blog.


Hope you guys enjoyed it.





Please take time to check out Campfire Tales on Amazon.


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