Hauntings…

Those projects I couldn’t get my head around yesterday? They’re now out the door, sitting on some other poor slob’s desk. What a day. Four television spots, one brochure, and two pages of taglines.

Meanwhile, Indian summer is losing its grip on the weather. Slept with the windows open last night, but only partially. By morning, I’d wished I hadn’t. Day improved, little by little, but the comeback was slow and without much enthusiasm.

Friend sent an article, “Haunted by Hemingway” by Tim Egan. It talked about EH’s early days, calling them his happiest. Probably they were in a lot of ways. He was in love, writing well, doing the things everyone wants to do when he’s young.

The piece made me sad for Hemingway—as most pieces about Hemingway make me sad anymore—but happy for myself, because what EH had in the twenties and thirties I have now. It took a long time to get here. I hope the feeling sticks. 

Cause for celebration...

Late start to work today. Empty tank at the keyboard, too. Pushed to finish another project, but it just wouldn’t come. Trying not to get frustrated, because I know where that’ll lead. Maybe an early start tomorrow will do the trick.

The few leaves the spring hailstorms left on the trees are clinging tight to life. They’re still green while most of the big trees on the block have gone a soft yellow, or lost their foliage altogether. Felt like fall today. The air cool and packing the threat of snow.

Talked about building a small office in the garage. Think it’s a good idea, what with the changes coming down. Be nice to know I could steal away when necessary and get a few words written in private.

Got word from the nice folks at The New Guard Review that my story, “Requiem for a Bantamweight,” was a finalist in the Machigonne Fiction Contest. Story will appear in the Spring issue (volume IV) of 2015. Was hoping for the $1000 first prize, but more than happy to have ended up in such talented company.

Trying to get it right...

Woke up to sunshine. Got to the office early and knocked out a handful of television scripts before being pressed into domestic services. Took a long walk through Old Colorado City mid-afternoon, then returned to the office to punch a few manuscripts through the door.

Hoped to sneak in a few small revisions on my newest stories, but wasn’t quite able. Too much going on. Or rather, too many short-notice, fast-turnaround jobs falling into my lap.

Might take another walk this evening. The weather’s too beautiful to squander. Blue jeans and fleeces are creeping their way to the front of my closet, and I need to fend them off a little while longer. Not ready to close the windows at night just yet. 

Rainy Day Mystery...

Rain today. A good hard downpour. The new grass seems to be suffering from some sort of personality disorder. Two thirds of it is growing like a weed, and a small circular patch on either side of the sidewalk is dwarfed and yellowish-looking. It was all planted with the same variety of seed, and all of it gets the same amount of water and sun, so the mystery remains.

 

 

Nothing gold can stay...

Good morning at the keyboard. Revised an old story I’ve had stashed away for a while. Cleaned up the opening, though, curiously enough, it took additional words to do it. Feel pretty good about the piece. We’ll see what sort of home it finds. Came across a new pub in the UK that’s looking for submissions that suggest a nice fit, thematically, with what I’m doing. Think I’ll float it their way and see what happens.

Slept well last night. Deep and restful. It was as if we’d walked all the way to Crested Butte. Still can’t get over how magnificent the countryside was. Aspens trickling down out of the creases in the mountains, spilling into crazy pools of orange and gold you'll dream about for weeks and months and even years to come. Reminding you it’s the moment that matters, and nothing else. That whatever your age, your days are numbered.

 

Quiet, pretty days...

Painted over the last of the new shingles this morning. The addition doesn’t look so much like an addition anymore as it does a part of the original house. Like everything grew there, naturally. And what a day to paint! If this isn’t the mildest, most beautiful fall we’ve had in years, I sure as hell can’t remember the one that beat it. Clear, sunny skies all day.

Finished a Paul LaFarge story today. “Rosendale.” One of the more interesting things about the piece is its slight shifts in perspective. The narrator (protagonist) does this hall-of-mirror sort of thing, so at one moment she’s writing her memoir and the next she’s writing a story about writing her memoir. Started another story in New Letters, too, but got interrupted and haven’t finished yet. Called “Scars,” I think. Anyway, a reading project for tomorrow.

Quiet evening. No leaf blowers, no kids hollering to their buddies, no dogs barking. Maybe everybody’s just breathing in the last of the good weather. Cut the lawn after getting a haircut. Yard looks like a million bucks, or would, if the old silver maples were still there. Taking a long, all-day drive through the mountains tomorrow. Aspens should be at their peak.

Again, briefly...

In and out, all day. Warm weather with the sun riding low and bright. Sky the color of a blue corn tortilla chip. Want to hold on to these final days of fall because they won’t last much longer. Maybe take a drive up to Crested Butte this Saturday, and enjoy the aspens. Order a hamburger in some out-of-the-way dive.

Long day, short post...

Long day. Got to the office just after 8:00, started in writing a couple of magazine articles, and haven’t looked up until now. Managed to push both jobs out the door. Big meeting in Monument tomorrow. Medical account. Crossing fingers it goes as hoped and some new projects roll in. 

Why every second counts...

Felt like a lost day until I remembered I got up early and wrote a draft of a new story.

It’s after six, now, and the day’s gone from miserable grey skies to a beautiful blue.

Talked to two of my brothers this afternoon, one after the other. Been a long time since that’s happened.

Time feels like a rope, slipping through my hands.

Road trips...

Got some painting in yesterday, which almost made up for the next-to-nothing I did today. Weather people said rain, so of course there wasn’t any. Took advantage of an overcast afternoon to drive around and do a little shopping. Tonight, dinner at a friend’s.

New lawn is looking good. Hoping it’ll get strong enough to survive the winter before it goes dormant. Gave the new patch its first mowing yesterday. Much to be hopeful about.

Saw a Wyoming tourism billboard for Devil’s Tower on the way home from the store. The art direction a retro illustration in those washed out colors you used to see in the sixties.

Reminded me of a vacation we took as kids. All along the way, at all the different monuments, we’d cross paths with this guy—a college student, maybe—riding a Schwinn ten speed. He wore a red beret. I don’t recall the color of his bike, but the last time I saw him was outside an A&W somewhere near the Tetons.

What a trip that must have been. 

Ruminations...

Seriously? Nothing accomplished today?

We keep drifting deeper and deeper into fall. Big ash trees across the road have turned gold, and the sky’s so clear you wish you could bottle it, save it for some dreary winter afternoon.

Gotta dig in tomorrow. Kick ass and takes names. But tonight, there’s stew on the burner and a glass of wine waiting to be poured. The words will come. They will.

Patience.

The Days of Wine and Pizza...

Gonna get spoiled by the weather. A little warm today, but clear and breezy and full of sun. Got in another long walk after a slow morning at the keyboard. All but finished the story of the two hunters, which I’ve tentatively titled, “Dead Is Dead.” Have a few details regarding voice that need to be resolved, but that’s it. And the timing couldn’t have been better. Need to move on to something else before I drive myself crazy.

Cracked the latest edition of New Letters early this afternoon and read the first of its two short stories. Enjoyed the piece even though it felt more like an academic exercise than a deep stab at the heart. Hats off to the author in any event. It was an interesting, well-crafted piece with some nice bits of humor. On a related note, why is it writers view Midwesterners as having a silly, but loveable charm?

 

What a wonderful world...

A lovely fall morning, abandoned early on for a business meeting in Peyton. Two hours later, back in town, no worse for the wear. New commercial work in my back pocket! A handful of television spots, all :15s, due at some date yet to be determined.

Got to the west side office early afternoon, and started on revisions of existing manuscripts. Slow going at the onset—always is after long meetings—but caught a break and sped forward before end of day. I know I’ve been sounding like a broken record, but I’m close.

Saw my writer-buddy Scott Jessop has been on his Facebook page urging folks to read my short-short “Naiad.” How generous is that? Lots of nifty comments from some very nice people, most of whom are writers themselves. Thanks to all! The encouraging words were--wow, just wonderful.

 

Sorting out Sunday...

Left the house early with fishing gear in tow. Drove down to an oxbow on the Arkansas I’d wanted to fish for a couple of years, after seeing it on the way to Westcliff. No luck there, so doubled back to Cañon City, then headed west toward Salida. Fished most of the late morning and afternoon. Caught six small brown, and kept one for dinner. The day was hot but clear. High clouds. The water was down from years past, but clear as well. Felt good to get out and hike.

Not writing today. Needed some time off. Found a rejection slip in the mail for “Into the Sunset” when I got back, but didn’t care. I like the story. It’ll find a home. Interestingly, also received a note of congratulations from Swarthmore’s Clay Bird Review, regarding my story, “Blues Legend,” which was picked up a few weeks back by the Dalhousie Review. Nice of them. Have only had that happen a few times. 

Moving forward...

Closer and closer on the stories. All but sent the first of them out today.

Fall weather made a giant comeback with temps in the seventies and clear blue skies. Forecast is for more of the same tomorrow.

Went to a movie in the afternoon. “Calvary.” Should have spent the day outside instead. Rented the film and watched it some night on TV.

Steaks marinating, ready for the grill. Looking forward to a quiet evening, maybe some fishing tomorrow.

History, ancient and otherwise...

Friday, 5:53 pm.

Cool day, overcast, temps in the 40s. Definitely feels like fall. Got into the office early and combed through three different story drafts. One piece may be ready. The other two aren't far behind. Been taking my time with the revisions, though not all of it has been intentional, all three pieces having fought back much of the way. I’d like to believe it’s some kind of growth process—that I’m learning something new—but the advances seem to come out of nowhere, and not necessarily because of any of rational decision-making process. Guess we’ll see if future works benefit from this long drought-like summer.

Learned from my brother today that a new cabin is going up not far from ours. Wasn’t sure what to think about that. The land there in the Bighorns hasn’t changed a lick in fifty years, and since I’ve never been big on either people or progress, I suppose I’m looking at a readjustment period. I’ve been telling myself all day that my grandfather (who left us the land) would have welcomed the newcomers, and I should do the same. I know it’ll take me a while to convince myself of that, but there’s nowhere else to go with it. Best thing to do is make the most of what’s here, now. A good day’s fall fishing will mend a whole lot of everything.

Words and pictures...

Downstairs with company this morning enjoying a cup of coffee at the new island bar in the kitchen when an email came in from The New Guard Literary Review letting me know my story “Requiem for a Bantamweight” is a finalist in the Machigonne Fiction Contest.

Final judging will take place over the next few weeks. The winner takes home a thousand bucks, so fingers crossed. We’ll see what happens.

Caught up with an old artist buddy today, George Sanchez. Had lunch at a little Italian restaurant over on 8th Street, then toured his new studio. Nice digs. Saw a painting of his I hadn’t laid eyes on in years, but have always loved. A piece called “Santero.” An interested buyer was supposed to show and make an offer on it. Lucky guy.

Here’s looking at you, kid...

Meadow Muffins has closed. Didn’t see that coming. So long to the great cheeseburgers. Farewell to the fries. Adieu to the insanely beautiful memorabilia that cluttered your walls and ceilings. You were roundly loved and will be profoundly missed.

Don’t know what’ll become of all the movie props. Auction, Ebay? Wherever they go, I hope they find good homes. I’ll always remember the summer I took my father to lunch there, and impressed him with the ceiling fan hanging above the bar. It came from the movie Casablanca.

Wow. I guess this is the end of a beautiful friendship.