“No rhyme or reason as to who is next to whom. Worthy subjects, apart or together, for Norman Rockwell’s brush, Saul Bass’s graphic hand, or Johnny Francis Wolf’s quill.
A battered, old homeless man is given wide berth. Young gay couple share a giggle, scantily clad and on their way to a Pride event. Little boy in Mother’s lap staring, charmed by a face. Blind man pets the dog asleep between familiar legs.
Businessman, NY Times spread wide, is distracted by the shirtless lads laughing to his right. Ladyboy prostitute in daring dress and heels hangs dearly on a subway handgrip. Priest standing, facing door, eyes averted toward our hooker, wondering if the cleavage real, ignores the beggar reaching out a hand for help.
Way over to our left, a bearded man in red. Santa hat adorns his head.
No one is on their device.”
Johnny Francis Wolf describes himself as a Poet, Actor, Ranch Hand.. and a whole bunch else.
Below Johnny’s interview answers is the query letter I received from him when I first started Wild Ink Publishing. It didn’t fit the template of what publishers and agents shackle everyone to. And that is precisely why Wild Ink decided to publish him. Why start a new publishing company if you aren’t willing to take chances on nontraditional stylings? Why try to make waves in an industry if you don’t accept work that will make waves? Johnny does not disappoint!
You can purchase Men Unlike Others, Vol 1 here.
What inspired you to start writing?
Still trying to make it as an actor, I went the Billy Bob Thornton route. I attempted to write my own SLINGBLADE. Though, I do believe it was Sylvester Stallone who initially established this ‘pen your own first film’ with ROCKY.
Mine, called JELLY DONUTS, was a fun write.. took me three years.
Tiny back story, I was living in an under-code poolhouse in LA, with lots of exposed fiberglass lining the ceiling (more a garage with a tiny carve-out for pool supplies and one tenant). The fiberglass did little for warmth, but lots (of bad) to my lungs. And don’t let them fool you, fiberglass is as dangerous as asbestos.
The script, about a middle-aged Cerebral Palsy ‘kid’, occupied the healing years that followed — in the High Desert, north of LA. And it was during that more sedentary life, while getting back my breathing, that my homelessness began. My storied ‘massage’ career, my acting pursuits, my ability for side employment, all came to a hard stop during those years.
WRITING became HEALING. And I’ve plenty more of both in me, and needed. My lungs are better. My head, my demons, my past.. all mending. My search for a home, ongoing.
P.S. The script received little attention. But I haven’t given up on it.
What inspired you to write this book?
I had been amassing quite a library of stories and poems — written during and after the screenplay process — and thought they might have worth. A friend on Facebook just published her own and was doing quite well.
I endeavored to try the same. MEN UNLIKE OTHERS was born. The title purposely, tongue-in-cheek-ly ominous.
What is one thing you really want readers to know about your book?
It is me spitting out moments remembered, imagined, bent, and embellished. Some nice. Some bile. None bitter. No order (other than alphabetical).
Just when you think you have me pegged, I might hit you with a one-eighty.Of the two volumes — and by luck of the alphabetical draw — I think Vol. 2 is the meatier one. Though Vol. 1 is no slouch.
The two together are inseparable. One really needs both in their library.
Can you tell me a bit about your writing habit or the process you took in writing this book?
I write morning ‘til night, whenever I can squeeze in time. I seem to gravitate toward very early AND very late.
More, specific to the book, below.
What piece of advice would you give aspiring authors?
Please, please, please edit yourself carefully before showing the world. Misspellings and bad grammar lose eyes quickly. Awkward phrasing, even faster.
And lose my eyes, instantly.
Don’t ever think close enough is good enough.
It. Never. Is.
Ever.
MEN UNLIKE OTHERS took 18+ months just to cull, organize, proof, polish.. even AFTER it was already written, and BEFORE it was sent to prospective agents and publishers. Definitely polished well PRIOR to presenting it to Ian Tan for proper book editing.
Lastly. Get yourself a good laptop. IMHO, so much better for writing than an iPhone. I can’t even effin’ imagine. Set your damn bar higher.
What would you like to highlight about your writing career?
Below is my first reaching out, following my finish of the book… August, 2021.
I, initially, was looking for an Agent. (Ha!!)
You, Abigail, received my more Frankenstein Cover Letter, curated several times by the time I got around to you.. lots of fun cut-and-pastes. Too unwieldly for this exercise. But THIS Cover Letter might insinuate a little more about me. The ‘IF YOUR TIME IS SHORT’ preamble was, in fact, part of that letter.
The letter starts here:
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IF YOUR TIME IS SHORT
– Unpublished Author looking for representation.
– I’ve recently completed a manuscript of 160 poems and short stories.
– Men Unlike Others pontificates plenty on men. Plenty, too, on the more frothy affairs I deem related.
– I’d love to send you a sampling.
Below is a dizzyingly circuitous missive written to engage, amuse, beguile. (Stop reading here if not easily engaged, amused, beguiled.)
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August 1, 2021
Submission Query
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Dear Mr. Literary Agent (name changed),
A part of me will ever be this way.
I look for pretty pictures. Handsome faces. Men.
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An unrelated –– maybe –– googling of poetry publishers yielded too many blazoners of books… too beaucoup a band of bard boosters and backers to imagine tendering that many cover letters.
Muckraking cross the top ten aggregate sites (who each offered a collated top fifty), purging the duplicates, I weeded out well more than half those left as self–publishing (with me not interested).
Eliminating the survivors requiring contest submissions (often with entry fees), culling through printers who have long since abandoned poesy as a promotable literary genre, curating the few remaining classic compositors accepting unsolicited words, turns out exactly one is yet open to verse proffers –– bidding welcome Christian odes only. Of course, I embroider some of the particulars.
But left me thinking, “A better life through representation.”
Engaging someone who knows how best to find and forge a publisher/author relationship just sounds smart. Having dabbled in acting over the years, I recall how ably a talent agent aided my seeking auditions and thespian employment.
Perhaps the same would work here.
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Returning to my initial tease apropos of men and handsome faces, I began a new and pioneering online search. This time for literary agent. I ordained that pictures helped –– furthered my examen –– and divined good–looking male headshots seemed draw.
Yours, Mr. Literary Agent, stood top of that list.
Googling you, your works, your wedding earlier this Century, made for a well–rounded and deep dive into the sort you are, attendant the type of person who might be interested in representing an idiosyncratic poet (check), who is similarly gay (check), and not 19 (check, check).
Anything further and personal beyond those three is irrelevant. So stated to assuage any fears about my predilection to a nice visage. Specifically yours..
Simply trying to address the probing in your Agency’s submission guidelines as to, “how you heard about TCA.”
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I am a homeless gypsy –– an artist, actor, unpublished writer –– making little money and currently living in my brother’s attic.
I am autistic and savant.
Acting classes helped enormously deciphering how to bide in genteel society… imparting methods that accorded me the means to ‘fake it’ when my own cerebral editor could not feel for best practices.
Withal, I am still very much a loner. And, as this introductory email reveals, can be quite prone to gaffes.. verbal as well as writ… precipitously impromptu else laggardly circumspect.
A dangerous hallmark to lay claim to (and clear proof of) when hastening headlong unto a description of one’s manuscript ––
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My book is comprised of 160 poems and short stories.
Men Unlike Others is not devoted expressly to males but to all the subjects this gay man enjoys expounding upon –– men, beasts, writing, men, life, family, aging, men, angels, gods and men. Did I mention men?
And any the shades of gray and light betwixt.
Whilst marbled and layered and oozing deep thoughts (SNL’s Jack Handey would approve), I aver my tales are firstly entertaining… deceptively lean and airy.
With gaffes edited out, except when felicitous.
I’d love to share more. I beg you consider asking me this very thing.
Yours faithfully,
Johnny Francis Wolf
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P.S. A dear friend once described my wordplay in a way I thought both crudely apt and much too kind. I paraphrase ––
Three grains of sand and fuck the rest..
plumb as they ford, if solely but then…
the narrowest cut of an hourglass stem.
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P.S.S. Whilst unpublished in a very real sense, a few of my earliest poetic swings (and misses) can still be found on social media.
Some wide–eyed and cringeworthy verses, I fear.
(I’ve nothing against ‘wide-eyed’ as a style. I wield it often. I find fault when it belies a slapdash effort. And a goodly bestirred ‘cringe’ can be lovely. When deliberate.)
There even exists a handful of primordial odes commandeered by sweet and self–published friends for their anthologies / blogs.
Ignoble attempts mine, these originations.
If 2 years of self–editing has taught me anything, it is to never hence present works–in–progress for public consumption.
No wine before its time.
Best save them for a thirsty compositor.
Wild Ink Publishing 