This seems like the perfect time to take a short break from the novel. Let people catch up or catch their breath. Let the suspense build. Just for a few days.

At this point in writing the story I remember wondering what the heck was going to happen next. I had thrown in some mysterious bad guys shooting up the saloon because I knew I wanted to start some trouble. But I had no idea who they were or what they looked like or what their plan was. And I certainly had no idea how Rufus and his friends were going to save the day. I just had faith in good old Rufus. He is such an unlikely hero, but I had a hunch he would think of something…

But enough about the novel. Let’s talk about me.

You know that band I joined? The one my brother was in? The one that I had to learn to play the bass for? For a while now it has just been me, my brother, Henry, and our drummer, because the lead guitar player has been having arthritis problems… (Ha! old guys rockin’)… Well, they called a guy, and now we have a lead guitar player. And a bass player they used to play with called and said he wanted in. So I got bumped to rhythm guitar, which is where I wanted to be anyway. So now there are five of us, and we have three guitars. And we are doing three of my original songs, with plans to do some more of them.

I am as happy as a clam, as they say. But let me share a little story that sums up the way my brain works. It is about one of my original songs, titled: 500 Shades of Blue.

Remember way back when I told you that when I decide to try new types of art projects I never learn the ‘right’ way to do them? I don’t learn the tricks or techniques. I don’t get the proper tools or even the normal materials. I don’t do research on the internet. I don’t take lessons. Never have. I just teach myself to do it, whatever it is. Go back in my blog and look at my paintings and drawings, my tikis, even my Photoshop pictures. I never ‘learned’ how to do any of that stuff. I just start doing it.

Why do I keep reinventing the wheel, you ask? Because my art may not be good, but it is original. It is totally unique.

So naturally, even though I have written well over 50 songs, I can’t read music. I know nothing about music except that I can feel it inside me. So here is the funny part. In my song 500 Shades of Blue, at the end of each chorus, there is a rising blues scale, and then I strum the last chord a certain number of times. Then the last note just hangs off into silence for a few beats before the song slams back into the next verse.

Our drummer, being the guy who has to hold the beat, the rhythm, asked me how many times I was strumming that note before we all had to stop on the pause.

“I never counted it before,” I mumbled. So I played that part and counted the strums, or beats.

“Nine,” I proclaimed proudly.

They, all four of them, exchanged glances. Then they all looked at me with pity.

“It can’t be nine,” they all agreed.

Music, it seems, is always based on even numbers of beats. I may not know anything about music, but I have been playing that song for a lot of years.

“Nine just works,” I stated firmly.

They proceeded to explain that since I was now playing with four musicians who knew about music, I would have to play by the rules.

“But nine feels right,” I insisted.

Nobody was moved to take pity on me.

I tried one more approach. “People who don’t know about music won’t care. And people who do know about music will think we are all cool and experimental. Or they will think we just don’t care about the rules. Either way, it is good for our rock and roll image.”

They were unmoved.

“Let me play it once more, and just listen without playing along,” I pleaded.

They listened. Then they exchanged puzzled glances.

At last, our drummer said, “That does seem to work, somehow.”

I think we are going to play my song that way.