Climbing Maya, coming May 1st from Solstice Publishing...

Writing is different with Vicky…

Lots of big announcements keep coming down the pipe.

As you know, Climbing Maya is coming out on May 1st from Solstice Publishing. I’ve also just lined up my first production in San Francisco – more on that to come.

As I was up working this morning – insomnia, again – I did a bit of reflecting on this, which is easy when you’re half asleep. I thought about how different things would have been – just where my writing is concerned – without Vicky.

I often tell Vicky how thankful I am that she’s in my life and I make sure she knows that this writing career of mine owes quite a bit to her. And I’m not just talking about how much money she makes, though that is very helpful to a starving (obviously not literally) artist like me.

If you look back on my body of work, you’ll find that most of it wasn’t written before Vicky came along. Somehow, I was writing for 20 years before I met Vicky and eight years since and yet most of my books and nearly every one of my plays came after we met.

Look at just the two most recent deals. Climbing Maya literally couldn’t exist without her. She’s in it! And then, there’s Murielle’s Big Date, which will be produced at The Dark Room Theatre in San Francisco during the first three weeks of November. Murielle is a play about love without the pain of love that had tainted everything up until then. It was really my first play celebrating love and it came after Vicky came into my life.

Now, I’m writing Dynamic Pluralism, a book so ambitious it changes the philosophy of ethics. I had been working on it for nearly 20 years, but it wasn’t until Vicky that I believed in myself enough to start writing it. Vicky helped me find that belief in myself.

Granted, she’s a pain in the ass and she gives me a lot of grief – and that’s just the start. But I wouldn’t be the person I am today without the benefit of her in my life.

Thanks, Vic.

Qualifying…

Vicky and I embraced our inner redneck (rednecks?) and went to watch qualifying at the Auto Club Speedway for Sunday’s Sprint Cup race. It is still bizarre to many people – least of which is myself – that I’ve embraced (and then some) Vicky’s love of NASCAR. But I have and so Vicky wasn’t exactly twisting my arm to get me out there.

We made it to the track in time and hustled up to the stands… and hustled up the stands… and up the stands… and up… and up…

By the time we reached our seats, I could touch Mars. We were high up.

Having been there before – yes, I’ve been to a hoe-down or two – I knew what to expect. I had my ear-plugs against the engine noise. I was familiar with how the cars would be scored, what to look for, and about how fast they should run. But… the vertigo and nausea were entirely new to me. I realized it right away, as I looked straight down at the cars, far out into the distance to follow them, and them closer to read the signs… and it was all making me sick.

Once upon a time, I would have shut it down and said, “That’s it. I don’t like this. Let’s go.” But I knew how much Vicky had been looking forward to this and I didn’t want to disappoint her. Anyway, qualifying would take only a couple of hours… of vertigo and nausea…

Fortunately, I made it. I watched my favorite driver (Juan Pablo) qualify fairly well – not great – and enjoyed the efforts that came in faster than him. We left through the sea of fat, white people smoking way too much – so, there are some parts of NASCAR I’m still not used to – and went out to Vicky’s car. From there, we headed off to Vicky’s brother’s place.

Vicky’s brother and his wife, Lani, have this very sweet little girl named Maddy. Maddy is a sweet girl, as I mentioned, but not used to big, white men walking into her house. I mean, beside myself, the only big, white guy who walks in is her grandfather, Steve, and he comes over only a little more than I do. So, it came as no surprise that Maddy was less than happy to see me. In fact, she kept a very safe distance as she looked at me as though I was some kind of oddity, not dangerous but certainly not welcome.

Now, the thing about me is that I know I’ve got to be honest here and it might not be right. So, let me apologize in advance to all involved. But I am very aware that Vicky loves her niece and wants me to love her too – and more importantly wants Maddy to love me. Things haven’t worked out exactly to plan with Vicky and me having children of our own and, while I can’t see into the future, I know her niece (and future nieces/nephews) may be all she gets. And I don’t want her to feel like she won’t get that either, because of me.

So, after playing with Maddy and throwing her kisses, which Maddy promptly threw back in the just-over-one-year-old kind of way of hers, Vicky looked at me and said, “Now, you do it.”

I felt kind of like an idiot. “I’m not throwing kisses to a baby,” I muttered. Yep, that’s how good I am with kids. Deal with it.

Vicky did. She said, “Come on. Just do it.”

So, me being me, I explained what I was going to do to Maddy and asked her not to leave me hanging. I blew a kiss… and got… nothing. I blew a second kiss, feeling like an ass… and Maddy returned it!

I felt like that big white dog in the Warner Bros cartoons who lets the little black cat make a bed on his back.

And when we left, Maddy leaned over to me and, in a sigh of acceptance, bumped her head against mine. What can I say? Kids just don’t communicate like we do.

Nobody can say my life turned out at all like I expected, least of all me. But the things is it did turn out… so I have no complaints.

More than one liners…

Insomnia again last night.

I was up and a bit dazed from lack of sleep… and beer, I must admit. Keeping me amused as I sat downstairs, having given up on finding anything on TV, was a stream of one-liners. I had no idea where they came from.

For instance:

That wasn’t an enema, that was Lake Mead.
That wasn’t an enema, you were trying to drill a molar.
That wasn’t an enema, you were checking for storage space.
That wasn’t an enema, you were looking for something I ate in the 5th grade.
That wasn’t an enema, you were drilling an escape tunnel.
That wasn’t an enema, that was five guys with a water pistol.
That wasn’t an enema, that was the Pacific Fleet.

And on and on they went.

I had no idea why the fixation with enemas but, being awake, I kept trying to outdo the last. I had no idea how many I thought of but there were a lot more than I listed here. These were just the ones I remembered. I have no idea what I’ll do with them – because, of course, I’ve squirrelled them away for later use – but you can be sure they’ll pop up somewhere.

For those wondering when I’m “off”… keep wondering.

A Tale of Two Litterboxes…

It’s a dirty story but one that deserves to be told…

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Harley, our Maine Coon cat had taken to peeing, oh, just about anywhere in our garage except in her litterbox, which was also in the garage. No matter what we tried, she just wouldn’t use it.

She had used it before but, for some reason, had stopped and found anywhere on the floor far more convenient.

It was pretty disgusting.

Then, Vicky suggested we get a second litterbox and put that in the garage. This seemed like a silly idea to me. “Why would she use a second litterbox and not the first?” I asked.

And so, despite my logic, Harley kept peeing.

Finally, when a friend offered Vicky a free litterbox, I acquiesced, claiming that Vicky would see the error in her logic once she put in the second litterbox. After all, I reasoned again, why would a cat not use a first litterbox but choose to use a second? It made no sense.

And then, of course, Harley proved me wrong by doing exactly that. She used the second litterbox with no problem and still refused to use the first.

The second litterbox was an open tray box while the first was a booda box styled litter box, which are covered to keep in odors and provide privacy… but mostly to keep in those odors.

On an impulse, I removed the top to the booda box… and Harley began using the first box. And there you go! The reason she was no using the first box was because of the cover!

That said, we kept the second box all the same. After all, I’d been proved wrong once already…

Coming Soon to a Magazine Near You!... (but you have to have the magazine near you...)

Greetings dear reader,


As you may have heard, I'll be in next month's copy of Recovering the Self magazine. They just recently released a Coming Soon piece over on their website, the text of which I will reproduce here...

The coming issue of Recovering the Self (April 2012) takes the theme of “Starting Over” thorough the writings of people had those hard times in their personal and/or professional lives and had those “awakening moments” whereby we receive the gift of valuing life in the present as we have it in and around us.


This issue features the following articles:


Taking the Opportunity by Ken La Salle*
The Woman Who Couldn’t Stop Screaming by Dinah Dietrich
The Blue Dots by Nancy-Gail Burns
Forgiveness Is Not A One-Time Act by Rosana Brasil
Starting Over by Kat Fasano-Nicotera
Take Pride, Not Sorrow by Sarah Jane Conteh… and many others.


Also included in the issue will be a special interview with psychologist Steve Taylor of the Leeds Metropolitan University, author of the recent book Out of the Darkness, which explores the subject of how people transform spiritually after turmoil or hitting rock bottom at some point in their lives.


Inspirational, healing, and empowering, the April 2012 issue is all you want to read for your life to come live again!

Stop by the Recovering the Self website (or your favorite online magazine etailer - Amazon's a good one) and pick up your copy of April's Recovering the Self today! (You probably won't get it until April, though... I'm just saying...)





*Underlining and bolding may just be mine...

New Look/New Home...

There have been some big changes in my world lately.


First, as you can see, I’ve changed the look of the blog a bit. It’s a big more streamlined, a bit less cluttered. Vicky’s bound to hate it.

Next, well, there’s the new book – Climbing Maya coming soon from Solstice Publishing – the article in next month’s Recovering The Self, and continued work on Dynamic Pluralism, my book on ethics. You can say I’ve been busy. Really… you can say that.

The biggest change of all, however, has to be the new website. Yes! Check out http://www.kenlasalle.com/! It’s my new site with books and plays and – well, let me let the press release tell you the whole thing.

Author and Playwright, Ken La Salle, plants his Internet flag with a new website.


Ken La Salle has created a new website at http://www.kenlasalle.com/ to help celebrate and promote his exciting writing career. With areas for coming projects, his theatrical plays, and places where you can purchase his books, http://www.kenlasalle.com/ brings you Ken La Salle in all his Ken La Salliness… if such a thing is possible.


“Dynamic content?” La Salle asked. “We’ve got that. Exciting events around the corner? We’ve got that, too! Lots of cool stuff. Yes! Emphatically so! Future expansion into new and amazing directions? Well… no. Not yet. We’re still waiting for the future on that one.”


Ken La Salle is the author of many e-books available on Amazon and Smashwords for every e-reader, with genres spanning horror and fantasy, comedy and romance, and more. Later this year, Solstice Publishing will release La Salle’s philosophical memoir, Climbing Maya, which examines the illusory nature of success in the 21st century. You can also catch La Salle’s monthly articles on pursuing your dreams at the Recovering the Self website.


Ken La Salle’s plays have been seen on stages up and down the California coast and in New York as well. Last year’s OC-Centric New Play Festival featured La Salle’s short, The Myth of the Cubicle, to enthusiastic crowds. A shockingly true farce, Cubicle analyzes the absurdity of the American workplace and a social safety net chewed through by the rats of big business. Recently, Horse Trade Theatre in NY also featured a staged reading of La Salle’s comedy, Murielle’s Big Date.


La Salle recently stated that http://www.kenlasalle.com/ will feature dynamic content that will be regularly updated to keep fans, supporters, and haters alike up to date with new releases, appearances, and everything the struggling artist plans to do to make a little scratch in our changing theatrical and publishing world.


Ken La Salle is represented by Sullivan Maxx Literary Agency supported by a beautiful wife and abused by more people than he can or would like to name.

I hope you enjoy http://www.kenlasalle.com/. The big changes are only beginning…

A few things you might not know about Vicky…

I was sitting here, trying to think of what I wanted to write about this week, and all I could think about was Vicky. That shouldn’t be too surprising. Here at my desk, I am surrounded by five pictures of Vicky. I love seeing her face.

I’ve probably mentioned how terrific Vicky is but today I thought I’d tell you a few reasons why she’s so great. There are, of course, reasons why she is great for me. For anyone else, she’d be a nightmare – so keep away!

A couple of weekends ago, on a lark, we headed down to Metro Pointe. A lark? We had no reason to be there; I can’t even remember how we ended up down there! But there we were, talking about visiting the Barnes and Noble to languish through some books (sometimes, there is nothing better) or wandering to the Container Store to look at… well, containers. It really didn’t matter much. Vicky is just nice to be with.

I think that’s the key. I just like being with her.

Plump people that we are, we were both typically peckish and decided to drop into Boudin Café. I’d never been there before. My only experience with it had been walking by with Essex – so long ago that it such things as walk by with Essex – and talking about how good it looked. Well, Vicky found that a perfect reason for taking me.

We went in and enjoyed soup in bread bowls and we each enjoyed eating the bowl. It was great, just enjoying this simple pleasure with my wife.

Then, off we went to Barnes & Noble. Now that there’s no Borders, I really hope to find one of my books in there one day. For now, we wandered the aisles and gabbed. Vicky saw a Crock Pot and called my mom to see if she had one. That’s just the kind of person she is. Vicky will see things and say, “Let’s buy it for such and such.” Mind you, it’s hell on our budget but you have to love her generosity.

After a while, we went our separate ways, texting each other now and then. While I was there, I witnessed a couple of teenage couples kissing against the bookshelves. Okay, Vicky and I are no longer there but I’m okay with that, for the most part.

That’s the thing about Vicky. She has become my partner in business and love, my best friend, and the neatest person I know. I just wanted to share that.

This month's Recovering the Self...

Dreams can be downright silly at times and pursuing them is sillier still. But sometimes, you just have to go with it. Embrace the journey!

This month's Recovering the Self blog talks about just this kind of thing (click the link!), grabbing ahold of the weirdness any dream will take you on and enjoying every minute! Oh, there's a little name-dropping, too.

Hope you enjoy it!

to bury and not to praise...

What do we consider a successful life? When is someone’s passing considered a loss?


Andrew Breitbart lived a disingenuous life where every hurt he caused someone else was later shrugged off as a joke. Breitbart had a good laugh over the harm he and James O’Keefe caused ACORN. Breitbart acted like hurting Shirley Sherrod and the good that she was doing was hilarious. When Breitbart cost Anthony Weiner his job, for doing absolutely nothing illegal, he had a grand time.

And just a few weeks ago, he accused people who were simply exercising their first amendment rights of rape. Of rape. He slandered them in the press and smeared them on the Internet; he went this far to hurt the reputations and yes the feelings too of those involved with the Occupy Movement. He then appeared on The Young Turks and responded to Cenk Uyngur’s sincere questions as if it was one big joke.

Andrew Breitbart, just like the Limbaughs of the world and the (what was his name? ) Becks, respond to the serious issues of the day by mocking those who try to help, by smearing those who care, by verbally assaulting anyone who would bother to lift a finger for those less fortunate. Now that he has passed, I wonder who would cry for such a person. Would even his family feel bad about the loss of someone who would rather hurt the innocent than help them? Probably, but I cannot imagine many others.

If a successful life is measured by those who touch the lives of others and help where they can, Breitbart’s must be seen as little more than a waste. Let’s hope whoever steps up to replace him remembers that.