Politics, as usual...

Closed my eyes while sitting on the porch swing this afternoon. Sound of hammers all over the neighborhood. The roofing companies made a killing this summer after the big hailstorms. Almost every other house in the Old North End got a new roof, us included. Work won’t pick up here until spring, but that’s okay. After the kitchen renovation, I’m in no big hurry.

Day got busted up due to some unforeseen doings, but still managed to get some good work in on one of my newer drafts. Looking for that breakout week when three or four pieces come together at once. It’ll happen again, right?

Eve of the election. Going to turn on a movie instead of watching the news coverage. Can’t do that to myself anymore. Voted, and now it’s up to everybody else. Morning paper can be counted on to deliver all the surprises anybody cares about or needs to know.

Miss Wyoming tonight. Sorry I got rained off the mountain when I did. Next year it’s gonna be different. I’m making a point of it.

time and time again...

Day slow coming out of the blocks. Then again, maybe it’s the cold medicine. Morning sunny and cool, late afternoon, drizzly and cold. Who knows where it will lead.

Read a couple of R. Brautigan stories this morning. Makes me sad to think how he ended up.

Sent “Into the Sunset” out the door to a few places this afternoon. Read through proofs of “Mano a Mano,” and was surprised to find I still liked the story. Checked the dates on the original galleys today. It was eight years ago the piece was accepted.

A bloody fun weekend...

Spent Friday decorating the house for Halloween. Old tradition was, decorate the day of, undecorated the day after. But the front end of that arrangement may have to change next year. Too much involved, too many props, too many close calls scrabbling across the roof.

Halloween night—crazy. Went through 1,200 pieces of candy. Must have been 700 trick-or-treaters, easily. (Note: the Old North End is a destination at Halloween. People drive here from all over town to witness the show.) Nice part was, got to see a lot of kids in great costumes having fun.

Cut open right thumb while cleaning up the next day. Bled like hell, but finger cuts always do. Have it wrapped up in gauze, hoping it won’t need the attention of a professional. Been down that road more times than I’d care to remember.

Took it easy today. Wrote a little past noon, then went off to a movie. Trying to shake off a cold, so sitting around doing nothing was a good thing—despite the fact the movie itself wasn’t much to write home about. Cool air is moving in. Looking forward to a night in front of the fireplace.

Thoughts on Death and Resurrection...

Okay. I give up. Indian Summer has proved to have more lives than Rasputin. Just when I’d gone and stuck a sprig of holly through its heart, here it came again, warm and sunny and flexing its muscles. Another gorgeous day.

Progress on a new draft this morning. Feels like a story that may find its way into the world sooner than most. But we’ll see. Been working to keep distractions at bay, while at the same time keeping an open, and critical, mind. I believe writing is a craft where you can never be too hard on yourself. The trick is to consume whatever bitterness your force down your own throat in measured doses, then give it time to do it’s work.

Received a note (and page proofs) today from the editor of the Bi-lingual Review. They’d accepted a story of mine, “Mano a Mano,” some number of years ago, and I’d all but given up on seeing it published. Nice to know it’s still alive. Now to let them know I’ve already seen and approved the page proofs—back in 2006. Can it really have been that long?

Under, over, and behind the covers...

Interesting show last night. A cabaret-style affair with lots of old standards. Had forgotten how beautiful the Bergman’s “What Are You Doing the Rest of Your Life?” is—regardless who’s singing it.

Restless night’s sleep. Up early to get a little writing done, then away to the office. Killed the afternoon, came home to a quiet house and a new New Yorker. Read a story today, an homage to Joyce’s “The Dead,” I found desperately pathetic. I mean, if you’re going to go after Joyce, don’t do it in a way that invites comparisons. You’ll never win. Ever.

Cold this evening. Temps are supposed to come back up, but I fear not enough to resurrect Indian Summer.

The Pine Tombstone Arrives...

Short entry tonight. On the way to the Theatreworks.

Weather finally crashed. Cool today. Temps are supposed to swing upward again tomorrow, but fall is here and it isn’t going away any time soon. Glad to have gotten in so much fishing the past few weeks.

Halloween comes Friday. Decorations are in the waiting. A new headstone arrived on the porch this afternoon, and oh man, is it nice. Carved from pine. Wonderfully painted. It looks like something from a movie set, and has the heft of the real thing. Will be putting it up on the west side of the house, with a free floating specter dangling in the distance.

Got in some good writing this morning. Close to having the finishing touches on a new piece. Excited to be working again after the long dry spell. 

In and out of character...

Set to work early this morning, but was forced to go at the keyboard in measured steps after smashing the hell out of my left middle finger last night in a storm window. Freud would probably have said my subconscious didn’t want to get back to writing after so many days off. I don’t know. Maybe that’s true. I felt as if I’d been champing at the bit, but he’s the genius, not me. Anyway, got some revision work in, but the process was slow-going. Tentative, I guess you’d say.

Quit writing just before noon and went off on a hunt for some dead trees to spike in the ground as a background piece for the Halloween graveyard we’ve built near the side of the house. Drove down to Cañon City, then turned north into Phantom Canyon where we spied some twisted old Gambol oaks, which we plucked from the hillside and loaded into the back bed of the pickup. The perfect score! Gonna be quite the show come Friday.

Stopped at the grocery store on the way home and picked up some fixings for dinner. The hope is for mussels steamed in white wine, butter, dill, thyme, and parsley, served over a bed of linguine. You could wish for more, I suppose, but somehow it would seem greedy.

One last thing. The Dalhousie Review went live with its new issue, and “Blues Legend” is one of the featured pieces. Don’t know when the hard copies will be available, but soon I imagine. Dedicated the story to my old, old, oldest buddy, Bob Smith. A true fan of the blues, and a man whose own legend is, indeed, stranger than fiction.  

Slow goings...

Friday, just before 5:00 pm. Looking out my office window two stories up and seeing nothing but clear blue skies. Took a walk this morning and watched a black lab leaping in the air, snapping at the leaves sifting down out of a big old elm. Going at it as if it was the only thing in the world. This has to be the happiest autumn to visit Colorado Springs in ten years.

Trying to find my way back into the quiet place after all the crazy doings of late. Got a little writing time this afternoon, but too late to make a serious push on the stories closest to being finished. Settled for doing a light revise, then went on to other business. Better to cut bait, get up early, and start fresh.

Yawning as I write this. Feel like I’ve been saving up for a good sleep. Haven’t had one for nearly two weeks, so maybe tonight’s the night to cash in. Fingers crossed. Leaving for home now. 

Time, compressed...

Checking in after several days absence. Trying to regain the old sea legs. Got in a nice day of fishing down on the Arkansas on Tuesday (caught our bag limit, all nice browns, including two fifteen inchers), had dinner with the family, then drove up to Denver the next day to Pearl Jam’s final concert of their 2014 tour. (More about these things later.)  Tonight, happy to be home in one piece. Tired and looking forward to quiet time.

There and back again...

Back from Albuquerque. Long weekend of friends and relatives. Weather was beautiful, down and up. San Luis valley magnificent. Like a series of Gustave Baumann woodcuts. Rich with color. Beautifully somber.

Happy be back home with the kitties.

Ready a fine story by Paul Byall, “The Genie at Low Tide” this morning. Published in Ploughshares “Solos” volume 2. Need to find more of his work. Think he has a novel coming out soon.

Son coming into Denver tomorrow afternoon. Looking forward to catching up with him. Half day tomorrow at the office, fishing all day Tuesday. First time in a long, long time we’ll have been on the water together.

On Leaves and leaving...

One more in a long, long line of autumn days. Maybe the best yet. Temps in the seventies. Warm and sunny. Leaves tumbling down out of the sky, red and yellow. Took a long walk and couldn't get enough.

More work at the office. No time to sit with a story, but the day’s not over. Maybe work in a few lines this evening, before dinner. Three pieces sent out this week—one new, two revised—so no need to hurry on anything. Just get it right. Besides, big game tonight. Cards down, needing a comeback to stay in it.

Trip to Albuquerque tomorrow. Five hours on the road. There through Sunday, then back again. D arrives on Monday. Stays through Thursday morning. Next six or seven days lost to any serious writing time, but will make up for it late next week. Need to pay a visit to the library to do some research. Legwork on a new novel.

Gassed...

Long day at the office.

Drafted an article for the new commercial project. Goes out the door tomorrow.

Out the door this morning, a new draft of an old story. A good feeling, moving on.

Beat.

Going home.

Stepping up to the Plate...

Early doings at the office. Research for a new commercial project.

Indian summer came back by mid-morning with temps straining toward seventy. Skies clear and blue and full of light. Wish I’d been kicking around in the mountains, but not much chance of that for while. Too many comings and goings.

NLCS game between SF and St. Louis last night was a great one. Tied in the bottom of the ninth, and the first batter up (Wong) hits a homer to right field. Series tied at one game each. Hope it stays tight.

Finished the re-write of yet another existing piece today. Or maybe a better way of saying it, I’m so sick of this story I can’t bear to work on it any longer. Either way, it’s as good as it’s going to get. So tomorrow it goes in the mail.

Out walking today, I was thinking of all the fist readers who’ve pushed an editor to take a second look at a story. Or who’ve gone on to champion a piece no one else believed in. Man, those people are something special.

Darkness into light...

Woke just after 3:30 am with terrible nightmares. A trend during the past two weeks. Not sure what’s bringing them on, but would welcome the grace of a good night’s sleep.

Cool today with overcast skies, but nothing to dampen the spirits. Got in some good revision work on one story, solid draft work on another. Meantime, found a few moments to read a remarkably good bit of short fiction by Daniel Alarcon, “The Provincials.”

Looking forward to mailing out some new drafts tomorrow. Maybe driving into the mountains to do some fishing if the weather cheers up. Tonight, dinner with family. (A rumor of steak!)

out of my hands...

Rain. All day. Temps falling into the 50s. Expect when it’s over all the leaves will have either fallen or turned a sullen dark brown.

Worked at the office all afternoon, writing a magazine article. Before that, revising a story. Before that, reading the paper over a cup of coffee.

Time to step on the gas, and get some pieces back in circulation. Tomorrow’s the start. “Occurrence at the Night Owl Liquor Store” leaves my hands.

All's right with the world...

Slept well. Got some project work out of the way, went for a walk, dawdled here and there, and put in some reading time. (Günther Grass’s Crabwalk.) Went to gym, hit the bag a while, then came home to do some research. Another (is this beginning to sound repetitive?) postcard autumn day. 

Just coasting along...

Early morning meeting, two hours out the window. Silver lining? Another gorgeous fall day. Woke up just before three last night and got a few more revisions in place. Final revisions. New-old story will be out the door by Friday, looking for a home the second time around.

Got in a nice walk this afternoon. Wrote the intro letter for FH magazine when I returned. Didn’t think I’d have the punch to get it done, but everything turned out all right in the end. Nothing like the fear of missing a deadline to clear the mind of distractions.

A Hodgepodge of things...

One of those Mondays. A hodgepodge of small things buzzing around your head with the lazy tenacity of houseflies. Refusing to be swatted, but refusing just as strenuously to be backed off.

Got some good revisions in on a new-old piece that’s ready to be sent back out. This time I think it’s there.

Temps were perfect again, as was the day itself. I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed the fall sun so much. Gave the lawn a ballpark cut yesterday, then winterized it. It already looks like it could use another trimming.

Saw that Colum McCann is coming to the Colorado College in December. Gotta mark the date. First book of McCann’s I’d ever read, Songdogs, blew me away. So did the last, Everything in this Country Must.

A blast from the past...

Fine, sunny morning. Wrote till 11:30, then headed up the pass to the Florissant Fossil Bed National Monument—35 million years into the past. Saw the petrified stumps of giant sequoias. Fossils of fish and plants and birds and insects so crisp and clean they looked like intaglio. All the victims of a long-ago volcanic eruption that buried them in a river of mud.

I never knew Sequoias grew in Colorado. Or that Florissant was once a lake. Or that volcanoes existed in Guffey. But I’ve only myself to blame. I’ve passed by the monument in Florissant a thousand times on the way to the South Platte and the Tarryall in search of a good stretch of water to fish, and never taken the time to stop until today. Glad I did. Really glad.

Small wonders...

Just in from cutting the grass. Another beautiful autumn afternoon, temps in the seventies. Wrote a little in the morning, then went kicking around town. Starbucks (blueberry scone and a latte), the Broadmoor (a stroll through the new Broadmoor west), Zeezo’s (picking up plastic rats for the Halloween display), then off to Safeway to snare a few fresh tomatoes for tonight’s dinner (pasta pomodoro). There’s a tired happiness in the air.