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When neareth the end of life, it behooves one to reflect on what has transpired over the course of years and, perhaps, pass along a bit of wisdom to future generations.
The wisdom I have acquired amounts to very little: respect yourself and others, take responsibility for your actions, and - to echo the great philosophers - know thyself.
Beyond that, I look back on many loves, those who inspired countless short stories, novels, novellas, series, and even poems. From my youngest days, watching "Family Classics" hosted by Frazier Thomas on WGN out of Chicago, I came to know the likes of Errol Flynn, Basil Rathbone and Claude Rains.
John Barrymore, accidentally, introduced me to Robert Louis Stevenson's "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" - as a silent movie, no less. Spencer Tracy's Jekyll offered a slightly different take on the story, thus began my lament about Hollywood always throwing a woman into the mix in an attempt to "improve" the tale.
At least, Disney's "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea" followed Jules Verne's novel more closely. That's how I discovered James Mason.
Can I really name all the inspirations who've colored my work? Sean Connery, Peter Sellers, Roddy McDowall, Bill Bixby, Oliver Reed, Peter O'Toole, Richard Burton, James Cagney, Billy Connolly, Ricardo Montalban, Jeremy Brett, Arthur Conan Doyle, Alexandre Dumas - writers and actors who lit fires in my soul, sparked my brain to the point where I neither ate nor slept for days, scribbling plots and dialogue or, later, typing on a computer keyboard with unrivaled fury.
Robin Williams, gone too soon, so consumed my energies over a six month period, I completed more than forty stories and nearly lost my life through my own stupidity.
While Robert Downey Jr. exploded on the silver screen in Iron Man and Sherlock Holmes, he also made possible some characters in my tales. David Tennant, Kevin Kline, Jackie Chan, Ben Kingsley, Christian McKay, John Cusack and Johnny Depp are among those living who inspired what I termed "twisted" stories.
Flesh-and-blood friends figured into a number of plots: Gene King, my best and longest friend, and Grant Pontius, who died so young. A certain individual, who shall remain nameless because he almost destroyed me - body, mind and soul - found his way into a half-dozen tales as I worked through my angst.
The fiction I wrote might not be considered "commercially profitable" but gave me the basis to periodically ply my trade as a journalist, engaging and informing readers. Following the advice of Lin-Manuel Miranda - and others - I dedicated myself to doing what I love, rather than worrying about making money (which is why this website is free for all who wish a good read).
A reflection of my personal journalist integrity, excerpts of the "Declaration of Principles" Orson Welles devised for Charles Foster Kane in Citizen Kane cost me paying jobs on a number of newspapers, while my off-hours generated 40 pieces of fiction in less than six months during that cycle.
In conclusion, I can positively state: many acquaintances may have viewed me as "anti-social" or aloof, but by focusing on these unseen - albeit tangible - inspirations, I experienced more joy, delved into deeper truths, and acquired more wisdom than if I had trusted those human beings I encountered as part of my daily routine.
It could be said I "sold my soul" to bask in the glow of those inspirations, often enduring spiritual and mental torture - a literal agony and ecstasy = for prolonged periods that threatened my sanity. Those individuals who possessed my mind, nonetheless - while characters, plots and dialogue poured from me like a fountain in a feverish mania = have my eternal gratitude for sharing themselves by this most unorthodox means. Hopefully, I will join them on whatever plane humanity exists after casting off this mortal coil.