Financial anxiety and fear of debt can feel overwhelming and isolating. In “The Workers Are Going Home,” Greg Luti captures the intense dread of falling behind on bills, the panic of debt collection calls, and the trauma of a sudden middle-of-the-night car repossession — a stark look at the quiet desperation many face. Sometimes I want assurance from people who I shouldn’t get it from. Like people who want my money. I want them to type to me that it is okay that I am behind on a few payments. Type it. I am not talking to them about this. I want to feel as though they care that I got a promotion, and my life on track. Do they? They don’t even have the time to talk to me, what do you think? I get scared when I hear the word collections. I don’t know why. I never had a nightmare where some monster was chasing me, and then when he catches me tells me that I have to pay for something that I forget about. That never happens. So why do I tremble when I hear a company called Sun Radius Area Oval Parenthesis Cylinder Planet Inc. sent me a letter? I have until a certain date to pay off whatever amount I already knew that I owed. What are they going to do really? It is not like I am trying to get away with anything. I am putting my money towards the payment as soon as I get paid. So what do I fear? I don’t know. The boogie man sometimes comes not in an outfit or even a person but of an invisible feeling you give yourself. A thought in your head that only you came up with that is now greater than you ever imagined it to be. The truth is that the guy on the other side doesn’t even know my name past the name he sees on file. He needed a few minutes to look up my account information. He properly even pronounces my name wrong. I am one of many people that he has spoken to today about their credit card problems. And yet, I wanted his approval. I wanted the stranger to tell me that I was not wrong with my money expenses, only that I was hit on tough times. A guy whose name I don’t know didn’t see at all, and just learned about my account information merely seconds ago is the one person then that I seek clarification from. If I tell him my story and get him to understand who and what I am, then maybe he can feel for me, and that makes me feel better about myself. Maybe… Of course, the guy didn’t give me any of that. We scheduled to get my account up to date, and that was that. No drama. No fuss. Only a few letters to be typed. I had to give him my account number, the date, and the amount. He didn’t even type much when I told him I have been trying to get my account back on track. Only, “Is there anything else that we can do here?” I am reaching out to this stranger, hoping that his words can give me some help in my own fragile ego and shattered sense in the world, and he is ready to help the next customer on line, whose account is past due. I am only a customer to this man. Another name on the screen has a problem with his account that needs to be addressed. He is as blind about my life as I am about his. I guess that is why you never go to your banker for health advice. You never ask a cop for money advice. And you never, never ever, ask a politician morality advice. They will lead you down the wrong path, and you will be further from the answer you wanted. Left stranded as the person walks away, not concerned about the lack of direction they gave you. Did I say take a fund out? I meant get some rest. My mistake. When I said follow the law, I really meant that you should live below your means. I get those phrases confused sometimes. Did I say to vote for you? I meant to follow the golden rule. That is on me really. I am afraid that someone will come to my house in the middle of the night and threaten me because of the missed payments I accrued. “Are you (he mispronounces my name)? We are sending you off to jail for not making a few payments on that account.” I mean, that just doesn’t happen. But I fear it, as though my neighbors are being hauled out into the middle of the street, calling out against the tyranny being struck down upon us all for being behind on credit card payments. Once that happened to me. Kind of. It was in the middle of the night. My dad came into the room, and told me that there was someone knocking on the door and he didn’t know what to do. He wanted me to be there, as I am younger than him, so I can fend off anyone trying to break into our house. I got out of bed, not really sure what was going on. My parents are scared as they think someone is there to kill us. I am not sure what to do, as I am not really a good fighter, but it looks like if something happens I am the guy up. I call the police, as I think we are getting robbed. Someone opened the door, and I saw the person I was to confront. It was a driver to tow my car away for debts. The woman was in a wheelchair and acted like she was in the job because that was just what her family did. “You are late on payments.” “What do you mean?” I asked, still half-asleep. She then clarified that I had not made a payment in three months. “Then who the hell have I been paying?” I asked again, still half-asleep. “I don’t want your car.” She told us. As she took it. I mean, I guess she was right, as we got it back. After many phone calls and money lost. People are fine with taking the little money that you have and then acting as though they didn’t take anything from you. As though you are doing them a favor. Thanks. Like I should be grateful that my account is up to date. And she didn’t almost scare my parents to death and give me trauma that I will have for the rest of my life. The guy on the other side for my card and the woman in the wheelchair don’t care about my story. They are only doing their jobs. That is how they look at it. There are rules to follow. I didn’t follow them. There are things that happen to people who do not follow those rules. One of those things is happening to me. And don’t even get me started on the cop with how he handled the entire situation. I don’t know what the hell he was even doing there when my car got taken away. “We are not responsible for this. You have to speak to your car dealer.” I feel like that is the opposite of what cops do at that time. Mind you, I am in my boxers and tank top, my parents are scared to death, as they thought we were being robbed, and there is a woman in a wheelchair taking my car away. The cop though, had no part in it. The guy probably didn’t even write down the event. He was one of those cops that is one because he thought it would be easier than it really is. He wants to help but also not die. That is better than how another cop treated me once. I got pulled over for speeding and I don’t really remember what I said to the guy, but all I know is that the cop gave me a packet of tickets when we were done. That cop was a cop you want to avoid. The type who wants to prove that he is in control and knows what he is doing. I am a felon in his eyes, and I need to be put in my place. He threw the book at me. Technically, it was a packet of tickets, but you get my point. So the cop at my house when my car got repossessed could have been an asshole out to put me away… I will take the indifferent, yet gentle cop, over the uptight over-ambitious cop any day of the week. Sure, the first cop won’t help me, but he certainly won’t hurt me either. What did the woman in the wheelchair, who didn’t want my car, take the car for exactly? Apparently when I was making payments for the car, I was sending the money to the wrong account, and nobody told me, until the woman in the wheelchair showed up and took it. Yeah, that is a thing that happens to people. They make payments the entire time, and then there are other people who are to enforce laws on them for not making payments. Collections…. It sounds like a bad word. Like Area 51 sounds like a place where mystery happens. You never want to deal with people in collections, because I am not sure if there are people over there. They may have the same DNA and body types as you and me, but how they behave is as though they are okay with seeing people suffer. She didn’t want my car but was more than happy with taking it. When that stuff happens, people tell me that I am a good guy. As though they are not trying to take my money. On the one hand, I believe them. I am a nice guy. I mean well. Most who meet me will say that I have a good approach and that they can see I am a decent fellow. On the other hand, I think they are lying. They are only saying that to make me feel comfortable with them. They call everyone a good guy, as that is apart of their tactic to accomplishing their task. If you tell someone that they are nice, they may treat you that way, which is better than not being treated that way. Yeah, that is a good piece of advice if I ever gave it. The real lesson here is that there is bullshit in this world that you will have to deal with, and there is nothing you can do about it. No matter how prepared you are or think you are, life will always throw something at you that makes you say, “What in the hell was that?” What do you do then? I am not sure, honestly. But I can definitely say that seeking friendship from an online stranger and arguing about your car being towed away are not the right answers.

A book project update keeps readers informed about an author’s progress on a novel. In “Book Project - Writing Update,” Greg Luti shares that he has completed the full outline for Hit of Henry, is preparing special edition mail-order books, and has slowed novel writing due to new editing clients while advertising his services in Writer’s Digest and Poets & Writers. The Special Edition Book Project I have been working on a project recently for my books, where those of you who want them can get a special edition of the books. It is going to be more of a mail-order system where you can basically get my books delivered directly to your address. I am still in the process of working out the details for the project, but I expect it to be off the ground in a few months. Current Novel Progress As for my current novel, I have not been working on it as much as I should have been. I have been devoting much of my time to editing for some new clients I have gotten. Hit of Henry Outline Complete The good news regarding my latest novel is that I am done with the outline for Hit of Henry. The meat of the book is done. Advertising My Editing Services You may see my logo, the big G, in some writing magazines, Writer’s Digest, or Poets and Writers, because I have been talking to them about advertising my editing services a little more than I used to. If you do want to chat about a current book you are working on, then you know all you have to do is email me. I love talking to writers and hearing their passion for their own stories. I was telling this to someone the other day, that I only give suggestions for the books I edit, I don’t make the final call, and that is because I am a writer. I know that the work is close to a person’s heart, and so I never want to take away from the person’s original goal while I recommend ways to make the story a little better. Story Ideas from AI I have come up with a few story ideas (because that is what I really need now!), and the most interesting thing is that I got them through asking questions to AI. I would start with a question and then another, and then I would outline a basic story idea. Now, AI is dreadful at writing, don’t get me wrong. There were multiple times I told it not to write up the scene, because the scene was that off-putting. But as far as an idea generator or a place to have ideas tested, AI is not that bad. More Poems and Shorts I want to get back to putting more poems and shorts on here for some of you to read. I got away from doing that in the new year, since the new writing project, and the editing have taken up all of my time. New Structure for Upcoming Novels Oh, and one last thing is that I came up with a neat structure for my upcoming novels that I think readers will enjoy. It is creative and fun, and as you may learn, it is definitely more of my style. My next novel will have this structure, and I think it adds a little more fun to the overall reading experience.

A writing update often shows an author’s commitment to consistency. In “Same Plan - Writing Update,” Greg Luti explains his decision to stick with the same steady plan for the new year — moving all content off Patreon, launching previews of Hit of Henry, and focusing on regular poetry and flash fiction while keeping long-term projects on track. Same Plan for the New Year My actions for the new year and my writing have been consistent in that I am doing the same things I was doing in the past few months. The plan is still the same, so in that sense, I am happy to report to you, the reader, updates on my career. More Editing Clients I am happy to say that I am getting more and more editing clients as I have been trying to actively connect with other writers. I am not one to openly like connecting. I have learned over the years, though, that no man is an island, and the people I have met who love to write stories as I do are truly a treasure in themselves. I won’t say to contact me if you need help with your editing, because if you have been paying any attention to me, you know you can easily reach out to me about that. Moving Everything from Patreon I want to get all my stuff off of Patreon and on my site. I am currently doing that, and the reason for that move is that I want to control all of my work. I don’t want to one day have Patreon be gone, and then my work is gone with it. I know that one writer spoke to me about Substack, and I have experience with blogs and Patreon, so I am not really interested in another medium where I can share stuff and not actually control the work. If you want to read my stuff, you can go to my website. The updates like this are always free. There are some poems and flash fiction that everyone can read, and if you want to read more from me, then you can subscribe to a monthly membership, where you get more poems, flash fiction, book updates, and short stories. Book Previews Now Live Concerning book previews, I finally got around to putting up my previews on my site. You can now read previews for Day in the Life, Collected Poems, and Everything Must Go here. (I will put them on the blog at a later time, so they are a bit easier to read) Novel Updates For the novels, I have not given them the time I should have, honestly. I have spoken to a few people about Hit of Henry, and so far, they do like the idea of the book, which is encouraging, but I will get you guys a preview of the book on the site, hopefully, soon. I wrote a fun dialogue between Alexander the Great and William Shakespeare recently, and I think there is a book in that idea, but I have not really fleshed it all out. Poems and Recent Writing This year has been hectic for me and frankly not as productive for my writing as I wish it to be, but I am happy to say that I have been writing up some poems and I am going to share them in their complete forms sooner than later. Sometimes I write up a scene or a story, and it is not finished, but I decide to share it on social media anyway as a way to show you guys that I am actually writing. Site Improvements Coming I am going to put more information about the various aspects of my career, so those who don’t know about it can get a better idea of what it is about. For example, I will give the Greg Luti Literary Club and the Luti Library a page on my site to explain what the hell those things even are. The club is a paid membership for site access, and the library is a mail-order membership for my books. I know I am not always clear here. A Realistic Optimism There is always so much to write and so much to do, but I guess that is life for you. I have found that if I approach things with a realistic optimism, then I will be able to handle most things. I don’t want to be naïve and act like that thing doesn’t matter, because it does. And I don’t want to say I don’t care either, because I do, so I see struggles as a way to impress myself and others, rather than seeing them as chains to my progress. If all we do is from our mind, then it is the mind that matters most in the balance of our life. I will stop here, before I make this a philosophical rant on the importance of balance to one’s life and how that can better the progress of the mind.

A poem can turn an ordinary late-night smoke break into a raw confession. In “A Smoke in the Cold Night,” Greg Luti listens in on two coworkers outside a yogurt shop as their conversation reveals deep frustration with hypocrisy, dead-end jobs, and the quiet desperation of doing what you’re “supposed” to do instead of what actually makes you happy. A disgruntled worker leaned up against the cement wall behind the yogurt shop, smoking his cigarettes as the new guy sat on the curb by the dumpster. “Bukowski was full of shit.” The worker said to the cold air. “Saying he banged every girl who read his poems. Fuck that. No poet gets that much pussy. Or any pussy, for that matter. Guy wrote a perverted poem and got some success with it. So decided to write a bunch of dirty shit. That’s like Poe. He played to the audience. Insanity sells, so be insane. Sex sells, so be perverted. Bullshit man. It’s all bullshit. People got their heads so far up their asses when they take a shit you think they’re throwing up. Fucking Christ, I’ll tell ya, if you ever find a man who isn’t a two-faced self-righteous hypocrite who lies more than a blanket on a bed, that’s like finding the Holy-fucking-Grail. Man, some guy like Indiana Jones can find the Grail, and they will put it in a museum. But no one will ever put the honest man out there. Cause they can’t find one. Everyone is full of shit. And no one acts like they are. That’s the fucked up part of it all. Everyone is a goddamn saint. Everyone is living the right life. Everyone is reliable. No one is. I’m telling you, man, no one is. The only person you can rely on in this world is you. Everyone else, just be happy that they are there. I swear the more I learn about this world, the more I start to think, Fuck everybody. I’m looking out for me and my family. I’m getting mine and I hope that God or whoever the hell runs this place, don’t mind too much. All the other jackasses out there can suck a fucking dick.” A co-worker opened the door and called out to the two. “I got some pizza. I’m gonna eat inside. It’s too cold out here.” The smoker acknowledged, “Yeah, cool.” “Whose Butgosky?” The new guy asked, still sitting on the curb. “Nobody, I guess. What time are you here till?” “Eleven.” “That’s not bad. If you’re too cold, you can go inside.” “Nah. I’m fine.” For a moment nothing was said, between the two, as though they allowed the cold air to make a few silent remarks. The smoker kicked his cigarette into the ground and continued, “Do what you love to do. Fuck money. Fuck fame. Do whatever makes you happy. If you like something, then do whatever the fuck you can to do it. You know? Fuck the rest. Cause that shit you like, whatever the hell it is, that shit is the real thing you gotta do.” He looked up from the now-destroyed cigarette. “How old are you?” “23.” The new co-worker answered and tried his best to not show his body was starting to get cold. “Ah, please, you’re a fucking kid.” “A lot of people seem to think that, but I don’t feel it.” “Hey, let me tell you. You are still young enough to get out of this shithole. Making yogurt every goodamnn day for the rest of your life. Fuck that shit. You do what you gotta do to get the fuck out of this shithole. Cause I tell you what…. They will keep you as long as you do the fucking job. You think they want you to get more money doing something that you like? Hell no! That is why you do what you gotta do to get out of this shithole. You’re young enough where you can look back on your life and tell people about the time you worked here.” “Working until eleven for yogurt.” “That’s not a life. Find a job that can give you a career. A real career.” “Ok.” “I’m telling you this because the others here won’t tell you that. Like Little Miss Pizza inside. Girl has been here her whole life, ever since high school. She was here before the damn manager was. And she won’t leave. They even fired her a few times, but she came back anyway after some pleading. This job is now all she knows. It is who she is. She has the yogurt running through her goddamn veins like it was blood. That is about as sad as the fucking Titanic. And the real sad part is she doesn’t think it is sad. She takes pride in doing this shit. Just don’t ever become your job, no matter how much your job wants you to.” “What about you?” “The world fucking gave up on me a long time ago. It is why I am stuck doing this fucking shit, scooping the different flavors. Cleaning the machines, knowing the difference between a banana red raspberry swirl and a banana raspberry swirl.” The co-worker acknowledged the trivial matter he was told about during his training. “Yeah. I don’t get that.” “Nobody fucking does.” He continued his train of thought. “Look, I wasn’t a good kid growing up, and now I am paying for it. If you knew the shit I did when I was younger, you wouldn’t listen to a word I said. I was one of those two-faced hypocrites. Now, I gotta deal with the shit that I started.” “You can always leave too, you know.” “No, I can’t.” “If you are smart enough to point out there is a way out for me, then you must be smart enough to make a way out for yourself.” The smoker paused for a second as if he had given the same speech a million times yet had never heard that answer before. “I guess so.” They both started to shiver gently. The smoker instructed, “Come on, let’s go back inside. It’s too cold to be out here for this long.”

A flash fiction story can reveal true heroism in unexpected places. In “The Ovation,” Greg Luti follows an outsider at a high school football game who assumes Redman is a legendary athlete — only to discover a quiet hero who shaped countless lives as a dedicated teacher and coach. On a cool Friday night, the high school football game bleachers were filled with local people from town, there for the ceremony of the various individuals at halftime as much as the game itself. The football team was not that good, so there is no reason for the stands to be filled on a night like tonight, aside from honoring those before the game. The new field, a turf field, was the best part of the facility. As you walked into the place via a gate that connected to the street, you couldn’t help but comment on the nice view of the field. This was the first reaction I had as I entered the place. The school is off in the distance, so all you see when you walk in is this large turf field, and the appearance of cleanliness that turf gives makes all take a second to appreciate the view. I read somewhere that in Huckleberry Finn, the river was as much of a character as any of the people in the novel, and on a cool fall night, the same can be made of the air. It was inviting and not too cold as to have you complain about it, but you still had to bundle up so as not to get cold. There were a few in the crowd who did not get the memo that fall time can be cold, and those people shivered during the entire ceremony. The air wants you to know that something is going on, and is inviting you to be there for the event, but it is warning you that if you stay too long, you will start to freeze. It wasn’t too windy either, so you did not have any commenting on the wind hitting them in the face. No, it was a nice night for a football game, and that only added to the occasion, for surely if this had taken place in the rain, the feel of the moment would have been different. I also would not have been there. The stands, as I said, were filled with many people, and rather than fighting for a spot among the crowd, I chose to stand by 30 yard line of the field. I could see the cheerleaders with a few signs ready to hold up for the event. I supposed that they made one for each person being honored. Despite my closeness to the field, I could barely hear the announcer give the names of those that were being celebrated on that day, but one name caught my attention, Redman. I don’t know this man. I could not tell you much about him, even now, but I noticed that he got an unusually large reception from the crowd as compared to the others. People called out his name a few times and they celebrated as though he brokered a treaty. We have not gotten to the actual ceremony and this guy is already getting a large ovation. This guy must have been the best athlete this town had ever seen, sort of a Bo Jackson of the neighborhood, I thought. That would explain why all those in the crowd love. He impacted the neighborhood by being the best athlete they ever saw. Perhaps the reason I don’t know him is because he got injured at the college level. I started to put the various sports he played in my head and give the guy a backstory. Baseball, basketball, football, and he may have even played another sport that he was really good in too, something like track and field. Yeah, this Redman guy must have been the best athlete around. That makes sense; I thought to myself as I stared at the field, waiting for the ceremony to commence. As each nominee was chosen, he walked on the field, and the announcer spoke of his success. The cheerleaders, who were within a few feet of me, held up a sign they had for the person. Walter (something- I missed his last name) was the first guy up. He played for the football team when he was younger. He gave a speech about continuing the legacy of the program. And then there was Patrick Nox. He was a great pitcher when he was a kid and played in the pros. He said something about his journey beginning here. For a second, I thought that my theory that the Redman guy being the best ever may not be true, for how does that make sense, if this guy was the best pitcher the school ever had? Doesn’t that get rid of the possibility of Redman being so great? Before I could think too much of that, the announcer, who I could hear better than when it began, gave the next name, Newson Parker. This man did the same as the other two and walked to the middle of the field and gave a brief speech of his life. I was impressed that he was successful at multiple sports, even more than the other guy, and not only was he a great athlete, but he was a marine in his life as well. Now, I was truly puzzled as to who this Redman guy was. I know that I think he was the best ever this school ever saw, but can he really be better than a guy who pitched in the pros and a former marine? My god, this guy Redman must have been so good they have stories about him still being told today. That is why so many applauded him when they heard his name. Despite the accolades of the three, which were an impressive list in their own right, none of them had the same crowd reaction as the one guy. In fact, you can combine the first three, and it still wouldn’t add up to this Redman guy’s applause. He must have scored a crazy amount of points in a basketball game or thrown a bunch of no-hitters in baseball. Maybe he even competed in wrestling and basketball at the same time, for some reason, because it was allowed back then. Whatever this guy did must have defied reality, for why else would a person get so much of an ovation? Last but not least to be called out was this Redman guy, this character, who I knew not of before the night began, and in a manner of a few minutes, I cultivated a story as him being the greatest athlete this town ever saw, and he hurt himself while in college. It was an injury that ended careers back then, too, like an ankle injury, so once he hurt it, his career was over. I have never heard of him because I am not from the town. That is how I figured out who this man was. I even asked my friend standing next to me of this man, as I found it strange one person would receive such an ovation. He gave me no help as he didn’t know the man either. I didn’t ask about the former pro, or the former marine, but of this Redman guy, which to me, only meant he must have been that great of an athlete. In high school sports, the competition can be misleading in regards to accomplishments, as a great athlete can be from a small town like this and play against bums who are only there to fill out the roster. That allows the athletes to do wonders, as not all are on the same level, competitively speaking. Then, you can get to the higher levels of competition and show your stuff there, and by then, you are already known. In high school sports, at least the ones that I know, the best don’t always play the best, so if you are from a place where the best rarely come from and are the best, then you can really make some heads turn, as you are not only going to compete for a championship, but you are going to blowout some opponents along the way, opponents who are traditionally speaking, the school would compete against. Redman defied all of this when he was a wrestler, winning two state titles, competing at a different weight class each year; a track star, being on the winning state team, and holding the school record for long jump; a stud outfielder for the baseball team, holding the school’s records in hits, home runs, runs and doubles that stills stand; a basketball standout, as he holds the record for most points ever by an alumni and helped the school win their only state title; and a star running back, running for more touchdowns and yards than any other player in school history, and leading the school to back to back state titles. That is who Redman was, to me, a worthy Hercules to such an ovation. If you had told me that the man won Prom King, acted in the school musical of Aladdin, and won the DECA tournament for the state, then I would not have been surprised. Finally the announcer got to the man that everyone wanted to celebrate, the athlete that changed the local sports scene, Redman. “And let us all give a hand for Mr. Redman, the teacher for this school for over 50 years, the coach of our lacrosse team for 35 years, and who ran the baseball team for 27 years, 14 of which were volunteer. He helped to shape so many of the lives of those in this school district, and we would truly not have been the same without him. Let’s all give him a hand. For there isn’t one of you in the crowd, who has not been touched by the great heart of Mr. Redman. I think I can speak for everyone when I say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Redman, for all you did.’” A teacher, that is what this guy was. He gave to those around him and taught them life lessons that are worth more than any record or trophy. He never scored a touchdown, hit a home run, or did anything remotely of merit on the playing field. He helped the kids and instilled values in them that they carried with them in their lives, which is why they all know him, even today. Everyone in the crowd can go back to a time when this man gave them something to make them a better person. All of a sudden, the ovation made a lot more sense to me. We value those who give the most to us; only later in life can we see the fruits of their labor prosper. Those who plant seeds for the trees don’t get to see the tree become its greatest. That is what Mr. Redman did. No one remembers the points or the records or the scores, but we all remember those that took time out of their lives to mold us into who we are, and teach us those valuable lessons that shape our society. Help those less fortunate to you. If you have some money or some clothes, give back to those who don’t have it. Respect your mother and father. They are a part of who you are, whether you want to admit it or not. Respect the sacrifice they gave for you. Love every day as though it were your last. You are not here forever, so make every moment count. Learn how to love learning. There is a passion you have and want to pursue, and you know that you can read up and learn about it. Also, know that there are so many great things to learn in this world, but the first thing you must do is be able to appreciate reading. Value your family more than your money. Love your sisters and your brothers more than your cars or objects. They mean more than any object can ever to you. Overcome adversity. You will fail in this life, and when that happens, learn to pick yourself up and get back into the game. We all fail, but we all don’t get up. Be the one that always gets up. Question the world. As you grow, don’t be afraid to question what is going on in your life and this world. The world needs people who are not afraid to think about the way things are. Embrace the philosopher inside of you. That is the real story of Mr. Redman, and that is why he was celebrated on that cool fall night at the local high school football game. Athletes never get the same ovation as teachers. We all cheer on the athletes as they play, but when we have to cheer for those we wish to honor, it is always the teacher we wish to thank for the lessons they gave us along the way.

A writing update often reveals an author’s current creative priorities and decisions. In “Writing for Blog - Writing Update,” Greg Luti explains his choice to focus on poetry and flash fiction for the blog as a way to build a consistent, sustainable routine while avoiding burnout and keeping his novels on hold for now. Focusing on Short Fiction Lately, I have been really focusing on writing my short pieces of fiction for my blog. These pieces include poetry and flash fiction for you guys to read. When I first sit down to write something, these are normally the first things I write. Eventually, I am hoping to make this output more consistent in my writing routine. Avoiding Burnout The reason I say that is because I have a habit of overextending my writing and then getting burnt out. I did it with social media before when I went from posting one thing per day, to two, to three, and then all of a sudden I was spending more time writing up posts for social media than my actual site. I like improvement, but improvement without moderation and direction can cause exhaustion, which can stall long-term progress and affect mental fatigue. Current Publishing Schedule I have a few days a week where I publish short fiction for you guys to read. I am trying to keep to the current schedule I have without overworking myself. Novels on Hold for Now As for the novels, I hope to get to them once I am more comfortable with posting on my blog. Once that happens, I will get back to writing more of the books. Frankly speaking, I just ran out of energy to write all that stuff. Prioritizing the Blog There are some improvements I want to make to the site, like giving the editing section more attention and perhaps changing around some of the other pages, but right now, I am all about the blog and getting it more content. Execution Over Ideas The biggest lesson I have learned in life is that talk is cheap and that everyone has great ideas, but not many of them actually do it. I try to always execute my plans and put them into play rather than just saying them. Sure, any writer can say they have a nice story to tell or a creative book to write, but that doesn’t mean anything if they are not actually going to write the stuff. It is a harsh truth that, as an author, I am learning. The readers don’t really care how the book was made. They only care about the quality of it. I get that too. I don’t remember the last book I read where I thought to myself, “Boy, I wonder if the writer struggled while writing this?” Nobody thinks that, which means production is king, more than anything else. Which also means that one must understand balance in their life to not allow the culture to rule them, since the priority, in my opinion, is not always healthy. I have thought about writing up op-ed pieces here, but I am not interested in making this for my opinions on what is going on in the world. I would rather my site be for stories. I may one day make up a category where I give editing tips, but that is for another time. One Step at a Time Hey, I can only write a word at a time, and do one thing at a time. If I think too much about my ideas, then I will never spend time actually doing them. That is really all the news I have for you right now. I plan on writing up one of these updates about my writing every two weeks, since that seems like a fair amount of time for me to do actual things. I originally planned on writing up something every week, but that is just too much for me.

A poem about change can capture the painful gap between desperate hope and harsh reality. In “Change,” Greg Luti follows a boy who begs love to transform like the weather, the day, and the town around him — only to receive a heartbreakingly honest and final rejection. “People change, do they not?” A boy pleaded with a girl, who stood there physically but mentally left a while ago. “Surely people change… The day starts as morn and then becomes night. You don’t see the morning dew in the evening. You don’t experience the darkness during the day Am I not like the day? Or how about the weather? Are we not that different than the weather we bear? The storm becomes the sunny day. A sky once filled with rage and wind transforms into beauty and tranquility. Water filled rooms don’t stay and that same room is one day a room of laughter and joy, with no signs of danger. The very town we live in, what we know our whole lives, did that not change? The barbershop is no longer there and is a bank. The bakery that was on the corner moved across town. The street we drive on changed its very name. All the world changes. What was now is not tomorrow, so why can’t your love for me that is absent now be filled in the future? Why can’t you see that I too can change into the lover you desire? All around us changes, so why can’t we change as well? And with that change you learn to love me? Why? Why can’t that be? People change do they not? I change. You change. Our relationship can change, can it not?” The girl did not respond for a moment. “No. I will never love you. I am not the weather. I am not the sun. I am not the town. I am not any of that. My heart knows what it wants, and that is not you. All that you named have no feelings. Does the sun ever have passion for someone? Does the storm know of lust? Can the town tell you how to feel? No, they are forces that show not change but consistency. As you said, the morning becomes the night. The storm becomes the sunny day. The empty store becomes the filled venue. Is that change? Or is that consistent behavior of the forces of the world? You said it. You know of the change, so is it change at all? Even if you say that change is apparent in the world, you cannot change how someone feels of another. The love I have in my heart for you is not there. I don’t feel joy around you. I don’t wish to be forever with you.” She paused, knowing the truth could kill the boy. “Why? Why must you make this so hard? Leave like the wind you speak of! If you wish to see change then start by removing yourself as a presence in my life! I don’t love you. I never did, and I never will. That is the way it is. Now, please leave me alone.”

A flash fiction story can turn a simple prank into a funny meditation on aging and fame. In “Jeans,” Greg Luti follows an aging actor who is tricked by his agent into filming a quirky Levi’s commercial opposite Beyoncé, leading to witty reflections on Hollywood absurdity and getting older. I have a really weird relationship with my agent. I mean, I have known the guy for 20 years or whatever, but he doesn't talk to me like I am a client. That is how long it has been, I guess. If you have known people for so long, you end up becoming comfortable with them, and what used to be proper is now casual. It also means that I am getting freaking old, but that is for another day. So anyway, one day, my agent, his name is Dan, called me about an offer he received. I don't really ask him where he gets the offers from because that is what I leave to him. We even had a conversation about this when he told me that if I were to know where he gets the offers from, then I might as well do his job. That kind of stress isn't really worth it all. I agree. I don't need any of that crap he deals with. Anyway, he said I was to be nude in one of the scenes for whatever movie or show it was. I have never been nude in my life. Well, at least on screen. Off-screen, I am nude as much as anyone else, I suppose. You can even ask my wife about that one. She has seen me nude more than anyone, which I feel is a sign of a healthy marriage, right? Although it's not like I go around thinking about people naked. I don't look at people and wonder how many hours a day that person is nude. I only do that for certain people, obviously. I asked my agent whether I was going Full Monty with this scene or not. Am I letting my anaconda out of the wild, or am I only ass cheeks? A man has a right to know how much nude is to be expected, especially when it is being recorded. He said it was Fully Monty. The whole show. Yup, all of me in the scene. And you know what is so strange about that Full Monty reference? I only ever remember the one scene from that movie when the guys are in line at the bank or wherever the hell they are. I don't remember any actual nudity in the film, but anyway… I joked with Dan about my penis being too big for the screen because it is, and he joked that it was too small for such a scene, which it also is. A man can't be nude and not expected to show some girth, I suppose. I asked if I was expected to please a woman in this scene, as that seems to be the only reason for a man to show his junk. I am not waddling that thing around for no freaking purpose. It was then that he let me in on what he was really doing. He was kidding. He made a wiseass remark about no one wanting to see me naked, which I gotta admit is pretty on point with him. My wife says that is why we are no longer having kids. I blame it on the expenses, as kids cost so much today. Have you seen how much it is to feed a family today? Yeah, we don't need another mouth. We will live with the three knuckleheads we have now. Of course, my kids think we are not having any more kids because my wife doesn't want to have sex with me, which is kind of true. But I digress… I repeated to Dan that my penis couldn't even fit in a jockstrap. It is too big for those things. It is why I could never be a baseball player. Aside from my poor arm, weak legs, and below-average eyesight, what really held me back was the monster in in between my pants, not allowing me to wear a cup. That was the real issue. He mentioned that I never wear jockstraps, which I said only proves my point. My agent had another offer for me, though, and he was quick to get to it. That is the thing about Dan; he is not a guy who likes to keep on one topic for too long. It is like he has ADHD but in such a small amount that he is not diagnosed with it. And yes, I have told him about this, so I don't feel bad telling you this. Cause I know there are going to be a line of people who are upset that I said something bad about ADHD people; meanwhile, the guy I said it about is cool about it. You know how that works. Do I know Levi's? That was the question that he asked me. No segue, no setup. Just the question. I said, do you mean the jeans? And he was like, yeah. He told me I was going to be in a Levi's commercial with Beyonce. I clarified that neither of us would be nude in the commercial. Unfortunately no. Beyonce would have clothes on in the commercial. The description Dan gave me of the commercial was vague, to say the least. I would be in a bar, and Beyonce would walk in with the jeans on. I would look at her for a second. And that was it. So I got paid to stare at Beyonce for a few minutes. A man can be dealt worse fates. I clarified again that there was no time in the commercial that Beyonce or myself would be nude or come close to being naked. Dan repeated the words Levi's a few times, as though that was supposed to mean something to me. Like I instantly think of people not taking off their jeans when I think of Levi's. Now, that I think of it, I do the opposite. Most images I have of people in Levi's is of them taking off the jeans, or putting them on. The shoot was fairly easy. One day, but half of it was putting me in the right pair of jeans. I am not even kidding. I was confused as I though the commercial was about how Beyonce looked in the jeans, not me. We got through about the fifth pair when they told me that I would be sitting in the commercial too. Yeah, I had to go through wardrobe and everything to sit down and watch Beyonce walk-in. I wasn't even standing in this commercial. And I don't even wear jeans either. I didn't really mention that when I was on set, either. I mean, I didn't bring it up when I tried on my tenth pair of jeans. Yeah, that would have been foolish. Can you imagine if I were to complain about jeans as I am trying to sell them in a commercial? I actually heard of a tale of an actor doing that once, and I don't know if it is really true. It is one of those stories that changes themes and purpose to fit whoever is saying it, but the main reason for telling the story is always the same. Here is the basic story, at least the one that I have heard. An actor on the set of a show or whatever, complained about the product he is selling. By lunch, the actor was told to leave and they got another actor to replace the guy. I know that some of my buddies add that the actor who replaced the guy was a big-time guy to prove the point that literally anyone can be replaced. I am not sure if that is really true. So yeah, when I was trying on Levi's, I didn't mention that I was not a jeans guy. The question I get from this commercial is not whether I know the woman, you know, Beyonce, one of the more popular musical acts of the past 20 years or so, or how I got into the commercial, or anything even about Levi's. Nobody asks about any of that. Do you know what people ask me about the commercial? And I am not even making this part up. They ask about her butt. Did Beyonce use a body double in the shoot? Because if you see the commercial, she doesn't show her face in the shot with her butt in it, taking up the entire screen. People are then curious as to whether this curvy-figured woman is not as curvy as they figured. From what I could see, there was no body double; there was only the woman, Beyonce, in her jeans. Did I see them take the shot of her butt? That is always a question that some want to know. Seriously, they want a deep dive into this as though this is the JFK film. Yeah, some people have a lot of time on their hands. I guess after you see all the JFK footage and get tired of speaking about aliens, you have to go to something, and a beautiful woman using a body double in a random commercial takes the spot for some. But yeah, I would say that was her actual butt. Do I have proof of it aside from the fact I was there on set with her as she was in those jeans? No, I didn't take any pictures with her or anything. Some people have asked me if Beyonce knew who I was. I am honestly not sure if she did. She was nice to me on set, but nice in a way you are with strangers, more than her doing anything for me to notice that she knew I was an actor. I didn't want to tell her I won an Emmy last year and have been in some pretty big movies and shows over the years, and this entire thing was below me. That sort of angle never really plays well. The person you are speaking to may think you are a jerk, so I don't really bother telling people who I am if they don't recognize me from TV or movies. I am not sure if I love Levi's or not now. On the one hand, they paid me, and I am really happy about that. I mean, they paid me, the second actor, for a one-time shoot pretty well. It was not life-changing money, but considering what I was doing, I would take the few grand they gave me. But now, I have to deal with this odd connection to this beautiful woman who wore the jeans in a commercial that I said nothing in, by the way. Yeah, there is no back-and-forth or anything. I forget what song they played over the commercial. I actually almost got in trouble when I asked about the song. So I am sitting down in the chair, and Beyonce is standing by me. We are between shoots. I asked her what song would be played during this commercial. She said a title that I honestly forgot. But the thing is, the title was one of her songs. I didn't know that at the time, but I did say quickly that it seemed like a good fit for the commercial. I still don't know the song.

A writing update keeps readers informed about an author’s plans and progress. In “More On The Site - Writing Update,” Greg Luti discusses expanding his blog with more poetry, flash fiction, and short stories, moving all his Patreon content to his own site for full ownership, and establishing a consistent publishing schedule while finishing current projects. More Content Coming to the Site I have been working on getting more content on this site in the form of poems, flash fiction, and short stories. I like to write up the poems and flash fiction, as they are always a pretty quick assignment for me. I have an idea that I feel fits as flash fiction or a poem, and then I run with it. I relate those two forms of writing more like a sprint than anything else. I am writing a lot in a little. As for short stories, they take a little extra time, but I am always excited to write them, since they take on a life of their own once they get going. A poem or a flash fiction is not long enough to really deviate from the original purpose I had for it, but a short story has multiple parts, so by the time I am writing it, the version I had may be a bit different than the outline I envisioned. I find that aspect of short stories exciting since even I am a bit taken aback by what I wrote in it when I am finished. For example, for the recent short story I wrote, I Hate Duke, I wanted the basketball game to really be the focus, but found the narrator’s handling of his job took over the story as much as how he reacted to the game. The part of the story that had a lot to say was not what I expected, but as always, I adjusted to that and went with the flow of the story so that the part that became the more prominent part was still readable. (At least I tried for this to be the case) Moving Everything from Patreon I am trying to get more structured with my writing on the site, and I have finally transferred all of the stuff from my Patreon page to my site. Yeah, I had a Patreon page, but then I realized that I was just better off having everything on my site, since that is something I can own, as compared to Patreon. Theoretically, if I had stuff on Patreon and then the site went down, then so would my content. More Editing Content on the Way I am working on adding more editing stuff to the blog, perhaps a post about tips for editing, or even more about how I feel about editing. As you know, I am a book editor, as well as an author, so I like to promote that side of my career. I have not gotten the details down to what the editing post will look like, but I will keep you posted. Best Way to Follow Along Right now, the best place to follow me is to subscribe to my newsletter, which I send out every Sunday. I suggest that because it has all my blog content, all wrapped into one newsletter, for whoever is interested. My social media accounts have been basically me sharing my blog content as much as anything else at the moment. For some reason, I always feel I need to write up something new for social media, but I am trying to get better at understanding that is not the case. Two Major Things I’m Focusing On I have been working on two major things with my writing. The first is to have a more focused schedule for the blog. I have one where the content has a distinct schedule I follow, so that makes it a little easier for me to create stuff there. The second thing I have been trying to do is to grasp the moments when inspiration hits me as a writer. There are times where I will be walking around the office, or not really doing all that much, but then I get hit with an idea, or a thought that can become something more, and when that happens, rather than just let that idea sit, I am actively trying to write about it then and there (if life allows me to, of course) This is a process since I find myself then taking time to write up something that I was not really expected on writing. Another major thing I am trying to get better at as a writer is to finish whatever it is I am working on, whether that is a blog post or whatever. If I start something, I am trying to finish it, rather than let it sit and die in my folder on my laptop. I did that with the recent short story I wrote. I just sat down at my laptop and said, “I am finishing this short story. I know I have a deadline and I am meeting it.” I am happy to say that I did meet my deadline with the story. Have a Lot to Say I have been trying to write a lot recently, and the line that I always come back to is, “Have a lot to say.” The reason I feel this is that if I don’t have much to even say on things in my stories, then the stories themselves will be pretty bland. I don’t even have to agree with what is being said in the stories, as long as I have enough for the characters in them to give the reader more than just words. The characters I write up will have a tough time talking if I don’t have anything for them to even talk about. Every day for me is just about getting a little bit better as a writer, and I am happy to say that I am still achieving that goal.

A tribute poem can honor a national tragedy with reverence and hope. In “9/11 Tribute Poem,” Greg Luti offers a heartfelt prayer remembering the heroes and victims of that day — those who ran into darkness so others could see light, and the enduring power of faith and love over hate. Dear Lord, Jesus Christ, that which conquered Death and forced open the door that was jammed for all time, look upon those souls who we lost on that fateful day 23 years ago. Those who ran into the den of hell and, without any second or hesitation on their end, gave their lives so that the world could be saved. You saved the world for us all once, Lord, and I am sure that you can save all these departed souls, the true heroes of that day, who burrowed the darkness and the ashes to give the world some light. Pray for them, angels and saints in heaven. Give them and their families the love that only the Lord knows and has. Please, Lord, let them not die in vain but die so that they can be lifted to heights that only match your own greatness. For this, I pray for those who we lost on 9/11 so many years ago. On a day that many will remember, and none will forget, the day that terror struck the heart of the nation and that day, that time, the nation called out and said that we choose light over darkness, we choose love over hate, we chose heroes over villains. When we were at our worst, with our backs against the walls, nothing in us but our souls, we carried on, for the love of the Lord and for light is greater than anything that darkness can give us. We picked up the bodies, one at a time. We removed the debris, piece by piece. We healed the wounds, one scar at a time, and on that day, we claimed that no darkness, no hate, and no villain is too great for the love that we have for one another. We are still healing, Lord, and those who are gone will never return. May we not forget what they did there so that we, too, can take a page from their books and see that those who are the brightest are needed when it is the darkest. Help those who carry that tradition and who live as those who died on that day did. Help us all, Lord, for the darkness is always lurking, always planning, always scheming against us, trying to take us away from you, but with you, we can showcase to ourselves, each other, and the world that no darkness is too great for those who live with the Lord. Amen.

A flash fiction story can turn an ordinary conversation into something memorable and surprising. In “The Happy Man,” Greg Luti follows an office worker who has a strange encounter with a stranger mourning the death of the happiest man he ever knew — a man who found genuine joy in something as ordinary as paying his taxes on time. As I was busy running around the office, filling papers and typing up reports, I realized I had not gotten to the bathroom all morning. For some reason, when you are active, even in a job you don’t desire, you forget about that part of your body. I stood up at my desk and thought about the urge to suddenly pee. To my luck, the office bathroom has been broken for the past few months, and I don’t think that anyone will be fixing it anytime soon. There is a bathroom in the hallway that all of us have been using in the meantime, and surprisingly, there has not been a line outside of it yet. I walked into the hallway down the corridor and by the staircase, where you can see outside of the building into the clear windows. Now, there is nothing in this view but the parking lot, but it is the first time I get to see the outside, as my office has a very limited view, being that it doesn’t have any windows. I made a note to look outside the window after I went to the bathroom. I knocked on the bathroom door and heard a voice holler, “Occupied!” Hearing that, I went back inside my office to wait a little bit to use the bathroom. I must have gotten busy with another task, one I can’t even recall at the moment, if I am honest. The point is, the next moment I was free, I went back outside to the bathroom to see if it was still occupied. The door was slightly open, and nobody was inside. I approached the toilet and saw toilet paper on the ground, as though someone had ripped it and thrown it down. I saw what looked like a foggy mirror with the two numbers 6 and 7 in barely visible writing. To what I could surmise, whoever was in the bathroom last was not well and appeared to barely be able to function. They ripped the toilet paper and wrote down those two annoying numbers that the young kids are saying for no apparent reason. I took no more interest in the psyche of the last individual in the room and went ahead and relieved myself. Once I was done, I washed up the best I could, skipping the part where I looked into the mirror, obviously. Before heading back into the office, I walked by the staircase to get a good view of the parking lot, for spring has just arrived, so the scene should be pleasant to the eyes. There was an older gentleman I had never seen around the office, standing by the staircase, looking out at the window when I got there. I commented, “We have great weather today. Spring is finally here.” I expected no more of the conversation, but the stranger had other plans in mind, “Eh, I suppose so. It is a sad day for me.” Now, when someone tells you they are having a sad day, you are not really obligated to comply with their emotional state, but I felt awkward leaving that remark alone, and responded back to the stranger, “Oh, why is it?” I didn’t want him to answer. I wanted to look out at the parking lot, see the nice weather, and then go back into the office. Nothing more. “I had just lost a friend. He was a good man, you know that?” I said nothing, even though I wanted to apologize for the loss. The old stranger continued, “He just understood life. He got what this was all about. Nobody today does anymore. We lost sight of who we were and what we were about. He got it. He was the happiest man I ever met.” I stood there unsure of what to say, since I knew the conversation was not over, so ending it would be rude, but continuing it was not a route I wished to take either. I decided with a straightforward question. “What made him so happy?” “Oh, man. He just understood things. Not like people today, who seem not to get anything. Not Walt, though. He got it.” The stranger turned to me as though to clarify, “His name was Walt.” He then went back to reminiscing about his friend. “I knew him my entire life, and there was no one who was happier than him. He just… he was so happy to always pay his taxes. Nothing made him happier.” “He did what?” The last comment threw me off guard. “He always paid his taxes. It gave him so much joy when he did it.” I stumbled with my words. “I…. I mean, as long as he was happy, I guess.” The stranger nodded his head. “He understood life so well, Walt. I miss him.” Just then, a co-worker walked over to me, as though she was looking for me. She made a gesture to me as though I was needed back inside. I left the old stranger standing by the staircase and went back to the reports of the day. I went back into the grind of the day, helping clients, writing reports, and running around. Later in the evening, when no one was around, I thought about the conversation I had by the staircase, and what made Walt so happy. I am still unsure about the entire exchange.

A man’s true worth is often judged by society’s standards of success. In “Judgement of a Man,” Greg Luti reveals that real value lies not in wealth, strength, or achievements, but in the simple, profound way a man respects and honors his mother. Judge a man not on his accomplishments in his field of study nor by the fleeting greatness that the world bestows upon his mortal head. Don’t judge a man by his wealth, for the stocks he buys, or the gold he accumulates. Not by his strength on the field of the sport he chooses, his speedy legs, or his enormous arms. Ignore his oratory skills that can lead a nation in and out of war. The charm that lights up a room and makes believers of us all. Don’t look at his grades or his so-called knowledge. Whether in history, math, or science. Don’t judge a man by the acts that he commits as a man. Judge a man by how he respects his mother. That is the true measure of a man. Men disrespect women all the time. They call them bad words, which will not be mentioned here. They scheme to use them only for pleasure. And some low-lives flat-out abuse women, treating them as nothing more than second-class citizens. But not the mother. A real man never disrespects his own mother. For all men know that his mother is special in his eyes. She is the caretaker of his madness. She is his cushion from the harsh, cruel world. She is the one who loved him first. All other women are sought after by a man. The man tries to win them over. He uses his obscure accomplishments, questionable wealth, and alluring charm to impress women that he is of their worthy company. But not his mother. She gave him a love that no other woman could. A love he neither earned nor deserved. The mother is not the true love of the son. She has a husband for that. A mother loves his son for no other reason than that is what she knows. She gives of herself for her son, even though he can’t give anything back in return. Will this man have great feats that change the world? Will he earn great wealth for future generations? Will his strength fill stadiums for fans across towns? No… He won’t. The son of a mother is an average man, ignored in history books and disregarded by society. They are our world's office clerks and menial workers, producing nothing of insight or quality. Yet, the mother still loves him. She does not reject him for his futility. She does not say he is not enough. She loves him for the losing, broke, weak, stupid man that he is. No other woman does that. “I knew him before he was a man. Before the world got to him. Before he grew up. Before all of this, I knew him.” That is what a mother says of her son. Any man recognizes this in his own mother. When the world thought nothing of you, who was the one woman who still loved you? Your mother. Respect a man for how much he respects his mother. Real men know that his mother deserves his respect more than anyone else.