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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. James Robinson Jr. will be awarding a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

My Writing Style by James Robinson Jr.

I’m a writer of fiction and nonfiction. My newest book, Jay Got Married: A Collection of 9 Short Non-Fiction Essays, is an example the style I employ when I write a non-fiction book. I thought it might be interesting to give you an idea of this style, the unique way that I put together an essay.

The essays usually begin with a broad subject—movies, the notion of George Orwell’s Big Brother, jellybeans (yes, jellybeans)—and go from there. I write using satire, a humorous, tongue-in-cheek wit, and employ my own experiences as a backdrop. I often touch upon real-life issues but always divert back to my base style. I have also discovered that it helps to use clipart and photos of the handsome author himself to bring home a point. Here is an example:

Jay Got Married

I had a frightful dream. I was standing at the altar with my wife and 400 guests in attendance. It seemed to be a repeat of our wedding in 1976. My now 95-year-old father performed the ceremony for my wife and me the first time around, and that’s how old he appeared to be in this vision. He kept forgetting the lines and was forever looking at me for support. At one point, I was whispering, “The rings, the rings.” I kept reaching for them, but they were disappearing before I could grab them.

Albie, my cousin and best man from my first wedding, was singing Sonny and Cher’s, I Got You Babe. Normally, he can’t sing for shit, but in this scenario, he had his hand on his chest and his head back, sounding like Luciano Pavarotti. What was this all about?
My father, the minister, wearing his trademark Champion sweatshirt, with coffee stains on the chest portions, pronounced us man and wife. I turned to kiss my new bride and caught a glimpse of her bridesmaid. But instead of her best friend who was her attendant back in the day, it was Gal Godot from DC Comics and the movies.

She was wearing her Wonder Woman garb, but she didn’t seem primed for a wedding. In fact, she appeared to be totally shocked by the whole affair. What kind of dream was this?

My wife and I ended the ceremony with a kiss. My mother turned to my father (who was then in attendance in the audience) with a quizzical look and said, “Dad, look at that bridesmaid. Isn’t that Superman?”

She was close. She doesn’t get out much.

Oh, and then, though neither of us would be caught dead on a motorcycle, in this weird musing, we were apparently bikers. Instead of a limousine waiting for us at the curb, there sat a racy motorcycle with cans in tow. It looked like this one:

I Googled it. It’s a BMW S1000RR—sleek, fast, and flashy.

But before I could get on the bike, she pulled off without me, as the cans tied to the wheels of the hot machine banged on the street, while her gown billowed in the breeze. She had left me standing in the street like a lost soul.

True, I shouldn’t have been drinking the caffeinated tea before bed, but more to the point, maybe, just maybe, this crazy vision was a warning, a forecast, an omen. Maybe it was God’s way of telling me that Wonder Woman could show up at your wedding without even paying her an appearance fee. Or even more to the point, perhaps it was to make me appreciate what I have.

What if the unthinkable happened to my wife? What if she succumbed to a disease, or was killed in a terrible auto accident? Or worse, what if her life were cut short in a vicious pit bull attack?

I jest. But you never know.

Seriously, what if I were faced with the prospect of being without her for the rest of my life? I would be devastated, left to fend for myself without my confidant and best friend.

With my life clock ticking away, would I ever get over it? I doubt it. Creeping up on 67 years of age, I would be left with no one to bond with, to grow old with, to offer me comfort when I’m down. My dance card is full, I’m all settled in, and my stuff doesn’t work all that well anymore. I have aches and pains from head to toe. I’m in no shape to be limping back to the starting gate and pushing the reset button.

Even if I wanted to find another partner, I ain’t feelin’ it. I don’t have the desire or energy to pull it off. And in terms of females, I’ve seen what’s out there. Aside from my children and grandchildren—and those little monsters can be a real pain in the butt—my wife is the best thing in my life. After 42 years of cohabitation, she knows me better than anyone. She’s loyal, honest to a fault, puts up with my crap, cleans the toilet after me, and makes a mean cherry pie.

However, she doesn’t laugh at my humor. In fact, she just shakes her head and sighs when I present it to her for her blessings. But I expect that. The mere thought of marrying anyone else is frightful. Could I do it, given those circumstances? Even after years of mourning? I would have to say:

Uh, no. I don’t think so.

If I haven’t totally turned you off, read the whole book. And thanks for taking a look.

Jay Got Married consists of 9 humorous and, at times, poignant essays chronicling the ironies of everyday life in word and picture. Take for example the lead essay, aptly titled, “Jay got Married,” where I find myself mired in a horrendous dream.

In the fantasy, my aging father–dressed in his favorite Champion t-shirt with stains covering the front–marries my wife and I like he did 42 years ago but, this time around, the my 92-year-old ex-clergy dad forgets his lines causing me to coach him through the event with hints like: “ask for the rings, ask for the rings.” All the while, my best man sings Sonny and Cher’s, “I Got You Babe.”

Finally married, my wife and I end the ceremony with a kiss. But as I turn to exit, my eyes catch a glimpse of the bridesmaid who is no longer my wife’s best friend but now Gal Gadot from Dell Comics and Wonder Woman Fame. She is dressed in full Wonder Women regalia and looks totally shocked by the whole affair.

My mother turns to my father (now in the audience) with a quizzical look and says, “Dad, look at that bridesmaid. Isn’t that Superman?” She doesn’t get out much.

As we exit the church, and the bubbles fill the air–no one uses rice anymore—my wife ignores the limo and takes off on a sleek motorcycle, leaving me in the lurch—hence the cover.
Sure, it’s sounds crazy. But, in truth, isn’t the world of marriage crazy these days? In my case, what would one do when faced with the prospect of losing their beloved wife after 42 years? At age 67, would they remarry? Would they even want to remarry? These and other marital tidbits are discussed with humor and as much reverence as I could muster.

P.S. The author pairs up with Wonder Woman again in a final bit of photo wizardry Why? How? How are tricky copyright infringement laws avoided? Read Jay Got Married and find out.

Enjoy an Excerpt

You’re like, “What’s the big deal? Sure, it’s a sad thing, but don’t be too hasty. People fill that void in their lives all the time. It can happen. Sure, you’ve lost someone near and dear to you. But you could get over it. Even at your age. Time heals all wounds.” (Boy, you could’ve done better than that.) “People are living longer now. You’ll have more time to think this through. I see couples remarrying in their 70s and 80s.”

And I say, “While that may be true, I have to ask myself how I could find someone after a tragic death, when married people can’t seem to decide who they want while they’re both still among the living. I see people divorce and remarry two, three, four, and even five times. Amongst the marital shrapnel, some have their next spouses all picked out before the split.

Switch partners in the middle of a dance four or five times? Really? After a few shots at it, I would have to practice a little self-examination. I think I’d ask myself, “Am I missing something? Shouldn’t I be wondering if a pattern is developing?” Before I jump a fifth set of bristles, I’d be thinking, Why do I keep marrying people and divorcing them? Could it be… could it be… could it be… me?

Well, the difference is, you can count these cast-offs in the still among the living category. You can always figure on those exes to be around to torture for alimony, child support, and just general purposes. But once they’re gone, you’d have to feel some kind of grief. Even if you only see their name in the obituary and suck your teeth.

About the Author: James Robinson, Jr. is an award-winning author who has written 6 books in both the fiction and non-fiction genres. His first book Fighting the Effects of Gravity: A Bittersweet Journey Into Middle Life, was an Indie Award winner for nonfiction. His first foray into fiction, Book of Samuel, was a Readers’ Favorite Award Winner. His latest book—Jay Got Married—is a collection of 9 humorous, sometimes poignant essays.

Mr. Robinson resides in Pittsburgh, PA with his wife of 43 years. He is the father of three daughters ages 37, 38, and 40 and has six grandchildren

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