What is a Writer Without Imagination?

Well... This is a picture of me again. I'm not as dressed up here, however, a collared shirt and matching shorts … not the average boy's play clothes... lol. Then there is the hat. I can't say I remember this one... I had hats of all kinds... helmets… big brimmed sombreros... little brimmed fedoras... and what ever this was. I'm betting that my play time wasn't about cowboys on this particular day. Perhaps I was a spy in Merlin's magic court (with a gun of course.) At any rate my play time usually involved creating a story to go along with the situation my fictional character (me) was involved with. The joys of imagination. 

“I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge. That myth is more potent than history. That dreams are more powerful than facts. That hope always triumphs over experience. That laughter is the only cure for grief. And I believe that love is stronger than death.”
― Robert Fulghum - 

All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten

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Books by Dan Dwayne Spencer

The West Texas Mountian Range

This is another of my pictures of the West Texas mountain range which I took with my instamatic camera. I love how the cattle break the horizon line. This time I was on my way back to Lubbock from Brownfield. (One of these days I feel I must write a story which is set in Brownfield, Texas. It was my home away from home for almost ten years.) I have to say I enjoyed teaching my classes there.  This is a brief account of my career leading up to teaching at BMS.  I left teaching at Monterey High School and took the job as the Art Director for KAMC and KLBK Television. It was invigorating. I worked there during the "TexasSize" era. That was a brief time around the year 2000.  I was there seeing all the feeds during the terror attacks on New York. I personally did the screen art used 'on screen' from 2000 to about 2004. I left The Television station and returned to teaching again. - this time in Brownfield. I find it funny how people like to compare things... they ask if I missed teaching at one of the biggest schools in Lubbock and later teaching in a small town. (It's not that I disliked Monterey, but you see, I had this great opportunity.) Where I ended up had great people, classes of 18 to 30 instead of 35 and sometimes more; I'd say what's not to like. Sadly I left because of a family tragedy. Funny that I had been writing on a story here and there all the while I was teaching and doing artwork. I always said that Art was my profession but writing was my vocation. Now I guess it's both... I hope you enjoy my books "The Secret King & Poetry of Praise" and "Spies Lie & Spies Die." They were a long time in the making. (Thanks to my Sis and my Wife for encouraging me to pursue publication.)

Are you the protector type?

Title: Night Bird (The Guardian)

Artist: Dan Dwayne Spencer 

Media: Polychrome Pencils & Graphite

I've always thought of owls as the protector types. It' somehow comforting to think that you have a guardian watching over you. I started this drawing after attending the Texas Tech satellite campus at Junction Texas. It is (or was at the time) a campus for grad students working on their master's degrees. It's located in a beautiful and peaceful bend of the river. Lots of trees and grasses grow up along it's shores. Well, as I said I got it started and the owl was almost finished when I lost motivation. I used the unfinished picture as a classroom example showing how to use the media but I just couldn't find the drive to finish it. Then one day I was looking back through old photos and ran across some I had taken that summer when I was attending grad school there at Junction campus. I got out the old owl and I could finally see what had been eluding me. What it had been all along, but I just couldn't see it. The trees and the river. The Moon Spirit reflecting in the glossy water. His braids becoming owl feathers as the water flowed. In my book "The Secret King & Poetry of Praise," Joseph tells Naaman that he has always thought of him as the protector type. Indeed he must be persuaded to protect the Secret King but he comes through and his belief in the Hebrew God is solidified.    

Plows and Treasures

My mother told a story about how (in the 1930's) my grandfather went to the bank and borrowed the money for the next year. They had a good size farm... So, he would (and could) borrow enough money to buy seed to plant and then the rest would hold the family over till the crop came in. That money was for food, clothing (including fabrics), entertainment, and as for food it was to pay for the feed for the horses and the cows. He stopped by the seed store on the way home and bought the seed for the year's planting. Then he came home, changed out of his Sunday best (he had been to see the banker you know) into his work clothes and started seeding his land... Planting his crop. When he returned to the house he was going to show granny the money he had borrowed and that there was enough for them to live on till the harvest... but he couldn't find his billfold. It was gone. He went over his trip again. He looked everywhere and nothing was to be found. It was lost. It must have fallen out of his pocket. They had a hard season, needless to say. The next year he goes back to the bank. Gets the money for that year and stops by and gets the seed. He is very sure to keep a grip on his billfold this time. He gets home changes his clothes and starts plowing his fields. He is plowing when he sees something strange turn up as the earth is broken and the plowshare turns the soil. It was his billfold. That year they had money from the year before and the current year too. In my story "A Deal of a Lifetime" a fortune is dropped in Helen Baxter's lap by mistake. The scam artists misplaced the real statue and Helen accidently bought the priceless object. Of course no one came hunting my grandfather down for the money but have you ever tried to put off those bill collectors? They are the worst!    


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What is the difference between stylish and classy?

Surprise... this little fashion plate wearing Cary Grant Style pleated pants, skinny tie, and oxford shoes at 4 years old is me. I'd like to say that I only dressed up like this for church and special occasions, however, that wouldn't be true. I was the child that stuck out in the crowd... red hair and all. That was then and this is now. I'm grey headed and very comfortable wearing my faded jeans, tennis shoes, and Polo shirts. In my story "The Gaslight Gallery" fashion had a lot to do with the characters and the outcome of the story. So what do you think is the difference in being stylish and classy?

Unexpected Things

 Pictured here is a common sight here in West Texas... Of course, it's a cactus. They are everywhere. Every wilderness area that has not been cultivated for agriculture is loaded with this plant. This kind of cactus is flat, thin and teardrop shaped with spiny needles that can be three inches long. It  is very common to see them everywhere and because of that we here on the plains just all but over look it. It's just a another cactus. So Invisible. Then it blooms in the spring. It covers itself in cactus roses. A magnificent sight. the bigger the cactus the more magnificent the display. What a delicate display of color and texture from the most prickly plant on earth. Yucca plants are much the same. (A yucca is also pictured in this photo.) The tips of the leaves are so spiny... so sharp and needle like (even the cactus are jealous of how they poke and hurt.) You can't clean under them and they collect all kind of blowing trash. Truly an annoyance most of the year and then they bloom. I'm sure we have all had that moment in life when we take things for granted (no matter what they might be) because they are so ordinary. Yes... These things are very ordinary, in fact so much so, that they become invisible. Then for what ever reason... they bloom, transform, and suddenly they are noticeable.  -  In my book "Spies Lie & Spies Die" there is a particular short story titled "Morning Fog" The main character is a fellow who is driving on highway 62/82 from his Texas home to where he works in Crosbyton. (A town on the Texas Plains.)  His name is Eugene Bentley and he is about to have a similar experience. He believes himself to be so ordinary that he is invisible. It takes quite an adventure for him to make his transformation. A near death experience for sure.

Buddy Holly was a West Texas Writer, a world class poet

The picture featured here is really the birth home of Lubbock's favorite son... Buddy Holly. Now there was a writer for you, a world class poet. His birth house was just around the corner from where my parents and I went to church for years (and years) and down the street from the Texas Tech Stadium. Busloads of people would stop there to see it. Usually they were on some world famous tour of Buddy Holly's home town. There was a great debate whether or not to tear down all the old houses in that area and build a new and more prosperous neighborhood. It went on for quite a few years, but it somehow lost the battle. Now that area is a thriving metro area of townhouses, fabulous housing for the University students, restaurants and shopping. Everything changes... even if it is a part of out history... even if it has great emotional value... and even if it is irreplaceable. It may have the best outcome and sometimes it is a sad ending.

In my short story "A Christmas Season in Hell" from my book "Spies Lie & Spies Die" The professor is looking for someone with an original story... an original thought. He didn't know that below him in a sealed room that person had been waiting for him. What was Edgar's story. Why was he sealed up in that room for forty years?  How would his story finally end after the professor falls into his morbid tomb?


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Memorial Day Salute

You might think it's a little late to put something up for Memorial Day. Indeed, I agreed with that line of thinking... but then I reconsidered. I'm not sure it is ever to late to make that salute. So, here goes.

Question: Why did he write God so big.   Answer: Besides the fact I love the G in that type style... have your read my "Poetry of Praise" in my novella "The Secret King and Poetry of Praise?" No... Then all I can say is read it and you will understand how I feel. After reading it maybe you can say... I feel that way too.  

What I think Living in Lubbock is like.

Yes... I do like Lubbock. I've traveled lots of places (especially in the south) and I always return to Lubbock. It's home not because I just call it that but it feels like home. I get mad at traffic, yell at my dashboard when someone grabs my parking place first, but that means nothing really because there's truly a feeling about this place. It's friendly - for the most part except for that woman who grabbed my parking place.

Lubbock is small enough for neighbors to bond together and large enough to have every convenience necessary for fine living. You can catch the Bellamy Brothers at the Cactus Theater, Garth at the Spirit Arena... or you can gather at your best friend's place to watch the Red Raiders play ball. (That is if you weren't lucky enough to get tickets to see them in person.)  Lubbock can never be confused with any other Lubbock town because there is only one and its right here in West Texas.