writer
Did some research early morning, went to the clinic for an orientation class late morning. Spent the afternoon at home, working on small things. Took a long walk later in the afternoon and paid a visit to the Pioneer’s Museum.
New display there featuring artifacts from the Waldo Canyon fire. Caught a bit of it, but didn’t stay long. The feelings are still too fresh.
Started Stuart O’Nan’s West of Sunset tonight. Think I’m going to enjoy it.
Felt like spring today. Temps near 60. Worked at home all day, got in a long walk downtown this afternoon. Still a little snow hanging around, but nothing to speak of. Looking forward to kicking back and doing nothing tonight.
Up late last night entertaining clients from out of town. Dinner at the Broadmoor’s new Italian restaurant. Ravioli, outstanding. Saltimbocca—eh. Went to bed a little after midnight, got up early to go to the office. Finished a reader’s draft of “The Catch,” then went to work making notes on the new novel I want to start. A lot of work ahead.
Got in a walk late this afternoon. Felt good to be outside. Temps had warmed, and despite deep patches of snow here and there the going was easy. Not sure what the forecast is—or if I’d believe it even if I did know—but have my fingers crossed for a spell of nice spring weather.
Lazy day, lazy entry. Up late, two cups of coffee and a shower later, off to the bank to open a new business account. Forty-five minutes later, away to the office to do a little story research. No writing, no revising.
Came home around 1:00 and went downtown for a cup of coffee and a scone. Did a little grocery shopping for tonight’s dinner (chicken Valeria), read pages from the Pomeroy book (more about this later), and took a long nap with the kitties.
Day was warm and sunny, like yesterday. Hopes of snowshoeing went by the wayside, as all the early week’s precipitation has melted or turned to ice.
Saw a new exhibit of retablo’s and santos at the Fine Arts Center yesterday. Impressive. Grabbed a promotional flyer to mail to the old folks. They won’t get up to see it, but mom will enjoy reading about it.
Great day. No particular reason, just a great day.
Just never mind, okay?
Can’t recall a spring when we’d had this many snowfalls so close together. Looks as if we’ll get upward of a couple of inches tonight. Not thrilled about shoveling the walks and drives again tomorrow, but happy the mountains are getting the moisture.
Finished “The Laughing Monsters” last night and immediately wanted to read it again. Johnson is my kind of writer—a realist with a sharp sense of humor, and the power to set off lyrical pyrotechnics when you least expect them. I love his work. I hope he lives a long time, and never stops writing.
A new HVAC unit was being installed on the office rooftop this morning. Lots of banging and clanging but managed to pull together a halfway decent revision of “Desperado” anyway. Can’t decide if I should try and shorten the piece (it’s coming in at close to 9,000 words), but feel I need the back story to make the direct action credible. We’ll see. One way or another, it needs to be wrapped up.
Need to get the new pieces in the mail. Year started out slow and has all but ground to a halt. No word on stories that are out. Nothing moving forward. Nothing at all.
Snowing. Again. Payback, no doubt, for the long, beautiful Indian summer we had. But no worries. The forecast looks cool enough to hold all the white together, and that means at least one day in the mountains this weekend.
Spent the morning taking another pass at “The Catch,” cleaning up the last few graphs. Still feels good. Stayed in this afternoon, fighting off a cold.
Prepped cordon bleu for dinner, but Mr. Fat Cat is sitting in my lap blocking my way to the kitchen, and his accomplice in crime, Tuckleberry, is guarding the bedroom door. Who knows if there’ll be any dinner at all.
Quick entry. Typical Monday, slow out of the chute. Got to the office later than planned, but made the most of the morning. Put in some good revision time on “The Catch,” and expect to have a good reader’s draft in hand before the end of the week.
Weather glum. Not sure if there’s more snow in the immediate forecast, but wouldn’t be surprised. Hope to make it up to Mueller this weekend to do a little snowshoeing, so if we’re going to get dumped on again, please make it Thursday.
Almost finished with The Laughing Monsters. Enjoying it. Need to get back to the Pomeroy book, too, so I can get my review written. But one thing at a time, right?
Late to bed, early to rise. Saw a small herd of elk while having coffee in front of the fire. Said goodbye to the cabin a few minutes before eleven, and headed home through Boulder Canyon.
Day was overcast and foggy, but the roads were clear for the most part. Lots of snow in the forest, much of it still clinging to the pine boughs. Stopped at the Bald Pate Inn to have look-see, even though it was closed. Took a few snaps and drove on.
Stopped at a little dive called the Millsite (somewhere outside Nederland) for lunch. Proprietors seemed surprised to see customers. Place was an old log cabin, heated by woodstoves, and so cold inside you had to eat with your coat on. Our server (the owner?) was a pretty woman in her fifties or sixties. She wore red lipstick and a black ski band over her ears. Clomped around in heavy black boots. Had soup and fries. Soup went cold pretty fast, but the fries were good. No exaggeration to say it was warmer outside than in.
Got coffee in Boulder at Starbucks. Drove through from there. Came home to happy kitties and a warm house. Looking forward to a quiet evening of wine and pizza.
Ignored the DOT and drove up to Estes Park last night. Found a cabin on the river. Roads snowy, but not the hard pack and ice the weather reports carried. Spent the night by the fire, drinking wine. Later, went outside to listen to the coyotes yammering on the mountainside.
Up early. Finished a good draft of the Christmas story I’ve been working on—tentatively titled “Visions of Sugarplums”—then drove up to the park to do some snowshoeing. Park was closed, so headed back into town to do a little sightseeing. Had lunch at the Stanley Hotel, (Burgers, fries, and a nice tall Guinness.) then spent the afternoon kicking around town, window shopping.
Cold day. Nine degrees, and a haze of snow over the peaks. Sky white since 10:00 this morning.
Looking forward to more time in front of the fire tonight, and a safe drive home tomorrow. Came across a herd of mountain goats browsing near the road on the way back to the cabin. No elk, yet. A small rabbit’s been parked under a pine bough near the river the whole day. Seems to like it there.
Light, steady snow all day. More coming tomorrow, and throughout the weekend. Cancelled the trip to Estes owing to the forecast. No point taking chances. Been in hit three times by uninsured drivers over the years, and figured why risk another accident. Disappointed, but putting it off it seems the smart thing to do.
Restless night. Up early, off to the office by mid-morning. Spent the day getting tax paperwork in order, and trying to open a new business bank account.
No walks today. Cold and snow have returned. Streets and sidewalks are icy, sky a wintry gray. Heard the next ten days are going to be bad. May have to shovel again as early as tomorrow.
Looking forward to winning the lottery tonight so we can take a vacation in warmer climes. San Francisco would be a nice change of pace.
Got a good start on the day. Spent the morning editing, the afternoon getting things in order at home.
Warmed up, but not enough to melt the snow. Still a good six to eight inches on the ground, and more scheduled for later in the week.
A third of the way through The Laughing Monsters, and enjoying it quite a bit. Same for the Pomeroy book.
Got a letter off to the folks. Need to catch up on a few more before the weekend.
Eric the Reluctant coming late morning tomorrow to install some shelving in the pantry. Should make for a noisy and unproductive day.
Spent the morning digging out. The afternoon writing. Can't believe it's dark already.
No let up in the snow. Heavy shoveling this morning, but glad to have the moisture. Thought about strapping on the snowshoes and doing a little jog around the neighborhood, but decided I had better things to do.
Finally found the correct language for the end of the story I’m calling “The Catch.” Think I’m pretty close to being finished, though there’s still a paragraph or two, mid-story, that needs massaging. Progress, anyway.
Cracked Denis Johnson’s The Laughing Monsters. Like where it’s going so far. Also pushed forward into Jim Hanna’s Call Me Pomeroy, which is turning out to be a real hoot.
Hoped to hit the road to Albuquerque tomorrow, but the NWB is calling for snowstorms all week. If it were a shorter, flatter ride that would bother me. But I’ve driven all the mountain passes I care to during snowstorms.
Oscars tonight. Felt neutral about pulling for a best picture—thought there were a lot of strong candidates this year—but decided over the last two days I’d like to see Birdman come up strong.
Spring took a ten count today, buried by a blizzard that shows no sign of letting up. The weather folks say it’s going to last all night, and for once I believe them. The sky’s white, the ground’s white, even the air’s white. A real springtime in the Rockies kind of snow.
But it’s all good. Had a poached egg on toast for breakfast, two pots of coffee, and a good five hours of writing time. Finished the main draft of “Desperado,” which is now close to 10,000 pages. Won’t find too many lit pubs willing to take on that kind of word count, but can’t see shortening it by much without diluting the story. So the hell with it. Will let it stand, as is, and take my lumps as they come.
Got out mid afternoon to do a little shopping. Came home and sat in front of the fire reading the last of The Ox-Bow Incident. There are things about the book’s technique that feel dated, but even so, the lynching scene is as true and gut-wrenching as you’ll get. I know I’ll have to read the book again before long, because the first pass caught me off guard in a lot ways. It’s always nice to revisit an old friend—first get your recollections straight, second to have them deepened—and, whenever it happens, this is going to be one of those reunions.
Read a TV pilot, First Person Shooter, by my friend, George Olson, yesterday. What a ride! The man is a first-rate writer who pens script after script of marvelous stuff, and it’s great to see him hitting stride, professionally. Fingers crossed his new series meets MGM’s expectations and he walks away a millionaire.
Up early, in early.
Spent the first half of the morning writing at the office, rest of the day running errands and taking care of personal business.
Weather warmed up, but only into the forties. Got a brisk walk in just before five, then went back to the keyboard for a while.
Early morning meeting tomorrow with G.O.
Got a pot of homemade tomato bisque on the burner. Gonna make some grilled chevre sandwiches on the side, then kick back for the evening.
Woke up wishing it was still the weekend. Chalk it up to sloth. Went to bed early—slept well, too—but felt as if an extra ten hours could have made the experience even better.
Snow fell last night and kept up well into mid morning. Streets were a bit slick early on, but have cleared since. Tree boughs are still covered. Grass, too. Glad to see it, and hope we get more tomorrow.
Pleased with the revisions on the new “Christmas” story. Feels as if it’s coming together. Had my doubts about the comic aspects of the work, but think if I can dial it back, it’ll work. It’s a serious piece, but it needs the levity to get where it’s going.
Thinking about spending the weekend in a cabin Estes Park. Maybe drag the snowshoes along. Be a nice getaway, particularly if the snow keeps up.
Snow! Weather reports called for an 80 percent chance of rain, so our esteemed meteorologists were close for a change.
Wrote most of the morning, then went antiquing, in search of a small bookcase for the upstairs hallway.
Speaking of books, have been on the search for a number of titles that apparently grew legs and walked off my shelf. Specifically, a collection of Hemingway stories edited by Patrick Hemingway, and the collection of short stories by Thom Jones (whose title I can’t remember) released after The Pugilist at Rest. Was it Cold Snap?
Looking forward to cleaning the garage this spring to see what turns up. I have to believe I’ll unearth at least a few treasures. Maybe a few of my lost volumes, if I’m lucky.
