writer
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
Quiet day. Started out sunny, now rumblings of thunder in the distance. Didn’t know it was supposed to rain. Got a long walk in earlier this afternoon, a nap a little later on. The life of Riley, right?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Woke up with teeth on edge, feeling like somebody’d busted me in the mouth. Wrote a while, then gassed up the pickup and headed into the mountains for a day of fishing. Beautiful, driving up the pass. Sunny and cool. Reached Woodland Park and the rain began, worsening by the time I found myself in Florissant.
Turned back eventually. Knew there wasn’t any point. But the ride up was nice just the same. Everything was still green. Dark clouds and a bit of lightning, but nothing serious. The fires of the past few years seem a long way away now, unless of course you find yourself in a burn area.
Drove through Manitou on the way into town. Streets overrun with happy-looking people. Stopped at King Soopers to pick up a few things for dinner then came home, took a walk, and mowed the lawn. Got a busy week coming up. Need to ramp into high gear. Close on so many projects.
Nice time at coffee this morning. What’s better, as a writer, than to spend a couple of hours with another writer whose work you admire? Came away jazzed. Itching to put in a long day at the keyboard soon. Meantime, content to steal all the loose moments that fall my way.
Beautiful weather today. Just gorgeous. A few light clouds, blue sky stretched out behind them, and a perfect breeze to stir the leaves. Going to pull the burlap off the lawn this evening and see if the grass looks as good as its three-week teaser campaign.
Read a new Tom McGuane short story in this week’s New Yorker, while lollygagging on the porch swing. Funny stuff, but with a dark, twisted ending. My kind of piece.
Midweek and sliding quickly toward the weekend. Sunshine at our backs, sunshine ahead.
Inspector showed up this morning to pass blessing on the renovation. All went well. He not only gave us the nod, he complimented the work that had been done. Appliance maintenance man came later in the morning and repaired the water couple on the fridge. Ice, at last!
Up early tomorrow to have coffee with an old writer buddy. Looking forward to catching up and hearing about the new treatment he’s working on. Nice to see a talented, hardworking, dedicated friend get a break. Really nice.
Restless sleep last night. Woke early, did a bit of the writing in the head, then repaired to the keyboard for the real thing. Worked on the hunters story, and found its ending. Now to smooth out the voice, clean up the details, and get it in the mail.
Beautiful day, if a bit muggy. Cool, but pleasant. Things are supposed to warm up as the week goes on, temps hitting near ninety by Thursday. Even so, it’ll be okay. The threat of hot weather this time of year never holds much fear. It goes as quickly as it arrives.
Fall is a fine time for reflection. Also, fishing. It’s especially nice when you can find a tidy way to combine the two—an ambition I hope to realize (soon and often) now that the construction work is finished and the lawn is back to being lawn again. Final inspection of kitchen tomorrow. Fingers crossed!
Quiet day, quiet evening. Did a little grilling tonight. (Bratwurst.) First time cooking outside in many months. A nice diversion. Picked up the 2013 edition of Best American Short Stories this afternoon. Another nice diversion. Looking forward to cracking it.
My short short, “Gifted” went live today on the Homestead Review web page. That makes five excerpts now from my novel, Riverbound, that have seen publication. Or will see it, soon. Other pubs who’ve picked up pieces were the Bryant Literary Review, Falling Star Magazine, Crossborders Journal, and Chicago Literati. Maybe I need to dust the manuscript off and start sending it out again? Hard to know.
Quiet Saturday. A little work, a little play. The grass is coming on now, and looks like it might be able to shed its burlap overcoat by the end of next week. Sooner, even. After a summer of mud and dirt, it’s going to be nice to crack a beer on a hot afternoon and stare out at a lawn again.
Balloon Classic is moving to Pueblo, owing to local politics and hard feelings. Tomorrow’s our last chance to see it. Guess we’ll have to roll out of bed at some obscene hour and bid it a fond farewell. It was one of the first events I attended when I moved here thirty years ago, and I’ll be sorry to see it go.
Friday night. Well, maybe not quiet night yet, but getting close. Full day at the office writing articles with only a brief bit of early morning work on some stories.
Have three pieces close to being finished, but haven’t found those last few words to make them respectable enough to put in the mail. No worries. Have a feeling that when they start falling into place, it’ll all happen at once.
Weather was cooler this morning, and the sun—when there is sun—seems to be sitting a little lower in the sky. Another bank of long gray clouds on the Peak this evening. Feels like fall.
Like to go fishing tomorrow, but learned long ago to avoid the mountains on the Memorial Day and Labor Day weekends. Traffic backed up all the way from Florissant to Woodland Park.
Baby grass shoots peeking up through the burlap. Already. Wasn’t expecting them for another week or so. Rainy again this evening, but the sky looks as if it’s going to clear.
