writer
Mark it down. Sunshine! Took a helluva long time to show its face, but the sun came out for a couple of hours this afternoon. Couldn’t believe it.
Worked all morning, went to a movie late afternoon (Far from the Madding Crowd) then came home and got a pot of chicken soup going. Dinner guests!
Rain tomorrow, they say. Enough!
Whadda ya know. It stopped raining. Then it started again. Everybody seemed stunned to see the sunshine, but no surprise there. We’ve all been suffering vitamin D depletion.
Into the office early, where I managed a script, some script revision, and a two-page ask letter along with some light housekeeping. Felt good to get a couple of projects out the door. Really good.
Chicken dinner tonight. Reading later on, and who knows what else. Looking forward to a little yardwork tomorrow.
Another rainy day. Blanket of clouds holding down the sky. Put in some early writing time, then took up housekeeping in the garage. Sorted the bookshelves, culled through contributor copies, salvaged a few things that needed to be brought into the house….
Hit the gym mid afternoon.
Going to try and make the office early tomorrow and knock push a couple of projects out the door. Don’t even want to think about working over the weekend. Not in Old Colorado City, anyway, with Territory Days going on.
Woke to a gray, miserable looking sky. It stayed that way all day. Put in time on a couple of stories, then dove across town, into Manitou, for lunch at Adam’s Mountain Café, where I had a Santa Fe omelet and coffee. Quiet doings all around. Holiday weekend coming up and the parking lot at the office has already been cordoned off and stacked with a soldierly gray line of porta-potties.
Cracked The Virginian as my new long read of the moment. Haven’t read it before, but know I’ll enjoy it. The Wyoming setting, anyway. The opening pages with their references to the southeastern part of the state, already have me thinking about the Bighorns. Been avoiding the western slope of Colorado the past few years—bark beetle damage to the forests was too down-heartening to look at—but may give it a shot this summer just to see Medicine Bow again.
Rainy day. Again. Up later than usual after a restless night’s sleep. Revisions on “Shark Week,” then on to other business. Some of it bloody. Weather people are saying rain all week, so outside projects may take longer than expected. Even so, planning to get the garage in order, once and for all. Less than two weeks before the month’s end and deadlines fall for Tin House and Conjunctions. Hope to submit to both, providing things work in my favor. Way, way, way behind in my letter writing. Need to pick up the pace there, too.
Some good work today…at the keyboard, and in the yard. Revised "Shark Week," dug up the iron fences on the side yard. Looking forward to a nice quiet evening.
B.B. King passed today. Hard to believe. He seemed like one of those guys that always was, and always would be. Saw him the first time in the early 70s at the Kennedy Center. Black women in heels and fur stoles danced in the aisles. Two years later, saw him at the U. of Maryland fieldhouse. A huge venue. The majority of the audience was Black. I ran into a schoolmate, a girl named Rosie, who asked me what I was doing there. I shrugged and said, “B.B. King.” Got locked in a room backstage (accidentally) after the concert and shook King’s hand. It was as big as baseball glove. Got his autograph, too, on a white matchbook. Framed the thing, then had it go missing sometime in the 90s. Hope it shows up again. Last time I saw him was in the 90s in Colorado Springs. John Lee Hooker opened for him, and later they did a duet. Man, what a concert. Hard to put into words what his music meant to me, so I won’t even try. Lot of history there. Lot of good times.
Lollygagged in bed till just after seven this morning. Tired. Forewent the gym and headed straight for the office. Shuffled some work out the door, then headed home to look after projects around the house.
Two good walks today. Between them, finished Lord Jim and got a head start on the New Yorker. Still scratching my head over the way Conrad’s structured his dialogue breaks. Anyway, a beautiful read. Need to poke around Netflix and see if they have the old Peter O’Toole film available. Would love to see it.
Overcast evening. Maybe more rain tonight, don’t know. The new ash trees in the front yard may be dead, and I’m having visions of another summer with neither trees nor lawn. God, don’t let it be so!
A break from the rain and hail today. Not much of one, but a break nonetheless.
Up early to the gym, then off to the office. Final revisions nearly in place on “Desperado.” So close to it now, can’t even hazard a guess as to whether it was worth the time. Will need to let it sit a while before passing judgment on it.
In other news…
Got an email from The (REDACTED) Review this afternoon regarding a note I’d sent in January. I'd been enquiring after a story I’d mailed to them in October of 2013, which I assumed to be lost since I hadn’t received a notice from them either for or against acceptance. The staff’s response was that they were currently accepting submissions for the next volume, but wouldn’t begin the review process until August.
I don’t know. Maybe it’s me. But if the skill level of their readers is so wanting they aren't able to comprehend, and answer, a simply stated question about a lost submission, it might be best not to trust them with an entire manuscript.
Good night’s sleep. Woke to almost sunny skies but temps still somewhere near freezing. Hail from yesterday was still covering the streets and walks. Wrote until a little afternoon (revisions on “Desperado”), then headed out to the gym.
Passed along Mother’s Day wishes to all deserving parties, wished my buddy Scott Jessop a happy birthday, then made a foray to the supermarket to pick up fixings for a pot of clam chowder. (New England style.)
Clouds have moved in again. Mountains are covered with snow, and if the forecast is right, we will be as well come morning. Springtime in the Rockies. It ain’t what people think.
Crazy rain. Woke at 4:00 to the sound of a driving hailstorm. Not long after, the alarm on one of the neighbors’ cars went off. The alarm continued, intermittently for the next for or five hours.
Wrote most of the morning despite the racket. Revisions for “Working to Beat Hell.” The piece is just about where I want it. One more pass may be enough, but I’ll take my time. Tin House is running a theme issue on “faith,” and I think the story might have a shot if I can get the ending right.
Came out of a movie theater this afternoon, greeted to a blanket of hail. Streets looked as if they’d been covered in snow. Skies are still glum and rainy, and the forecast for tonight says freezing temps.
Still raining. Forecast calls for the possibility of snow over the weekend. More rain next week. Took a drive through Garden of the Gods this afternoon. Green, low clouds, but beautiful. Always surprised to see how many Colorado natives drive through the park. Most days it seems as if they outnumber the tourists.
Plugged away on “Desperado” this morning. “Working to Beat Hell” as well. Close on both of them. Behind on almost everything else.
Been thinking about Wyoming lately. Looking forward to getting out of town, maybe kicking back for a few quiet days of fishing. The runoff here will be pretty bad for a while, owing to all the rain, but want to get up to Elevenmile before long, too. Need some new fly line and backing. New flies.
Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Ran. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Ran. Rain.Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Ran. Rain.Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Ran. Rain.Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Ran. Rain. Bad dreams. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Ran. Rain. The Liar. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Ran. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Ran. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Ran. Rain. Bad dreams. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Ran. Rain.Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Ran. Rain.Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Ran. Rain.Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Ran. Rain.Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Ran. Rain.Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Ran. Rain.Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Ran. Rain.
Big rains tonight. Thunder, lightning. The whole enchilada. In to work early this morning, working on a revision of “Desperado.” Yesterday, it was “Working to Beat Hell.” Still trying to find my groove in the midst of all the schedule changes, but I think I’m getting closer.
Only one acceptance so far this year. Averaged ten or more per year the two leading up to this one. Eight pieces in the mail at the moment, so maybe I’ll hit paydirt on the back end. We’ll see. Best to just keep plowing ahead and trying not to think about it. Still.
Footings for the fireplace and side gate were poured today. Hope the rain doesn’t damage the concrete. Sprinkler system was adjusted today, too. Hurrah! Grass looks great, except for the native fescue someone sneaked into the mix, and even that doesn’t look too bad.
Spoke to the folks last night. Good to hear their voices. Hope to be able to say that for a long time to come.
Followed a couple of deer down Wood Avenue today. A young buck and a doe. They were browsing on other people’s flowers. The buck stood on his hind legs and stole blossoms from an apple tree.
Beautiful day, cool and sunny. High clouds.
Got in some good revisions this morning, and had a long business lunch this afternoon. Looking forward to a quiet evening, and some reflection time. Feel like the world’s moving slightly faster than I am. Or is it vice-versa?
138 of us got rejections today by a new pub—Steam Ticket: A Third Coast Review. Nothing exceptional about that except that it came as a broadcast email.
The text read…
Dear Writer,
Thank you for submitting to Steam Ticket; we've read your submission carefully, but unfortunately we are not able to find space for it in Vol XVI. Please know that we value your work as a writer, and we hope that you will consider submitting again.
Best wishes,
Steam Ticket staff
Responses, which appeared as reverse broadcast emails were snarky.
One writer wrote back…
Dear Publication,
Thanks for the personal note!
Another writer asked if there would be "more space" in next issue.
Others were far less funny…or kind.
Lots of hostility out there. Lots of anger.
Best way of coming to balance is to just keep working. None of it matters except the story. Pubs die all the time, plenty of them because they deserve to, but a writer’s job is to write. Nothing else. A petty attitude is dangerous and self-destructive.
The editors apologized when the learned about the gaff. That was something, I guess.
Beat. Woke at 4:30 and couldn’t get back to sleep. Drifted in and out of sleep for the next two hours, then gave up and went to the gym. Short workout, but a good one. After, home for coffee and a shower.
Appointments all afternoon made any decent shot at productivity impossible. Got some revisions in, a little paperwork. Not much else. Called it quits at quarter to six, and came home.
Cold, rainy, overcast weather the past couple of days. Grass looks great. Hope to see some buds on the new ash trees in the front yard soon, or else declare them dead from last springs’ murderous hailstorm and start over.
Need to get a good jump on tomorrow. Dig into some old stories and try to get them back on their feet.
Random happenings, a bit of worrisome news, and a handful of birthdays. What a weekend! Despite setbacks here and there, managed to accomplish a number of things. Lawn aerated, mowed, and edged. Story collection, “The Second Time Around,” out the door and into the hands of the editors of the 2015 Leapfrog Press Fiction contest. Revisions on the story formerly titled, “The Jesus Brand.”
Attended the Theatreworks prologue salon yesterday evening and was treated to the recital of a tall tale by Bill Lepp, five-time winner of the West Virginia Lying Contest. What a hoot.
Cold pizza for dinner (unintended, driver got lost) and turned in for an early bedtime.
Up early. Gym, home, office. Knocked out a couple of radio spots, left office, worked at home. Overcast day. Cool, too. Same for the rest of the week, they say. Hope to get in some writing time tomorrow, maybe finish a new draft.
4:14 pm. Warming up with a cup of tea. Busy morning finishing a new project, then home for other work. Temps in the 60s today, a bit cool, but managed to get a brief walk and soak up what sun there was before the clouds moved in.
Way behind in my entries after four days on the road. Learned late Friday evening my story “Burn Scar” had been accepted by Kansas City Voices. A lit journal associated with Whispering Prairie Press. The piece was submitted blind, so it was one of those acceptances you appreciate on a different level.
Didn’t write a word while out of town, nor did I do any reading. Usually get antsy when that’s the case, but this time around felt refreshed. Listened to Steinbeck’s Arthur while driving, but having read Le Morte d’Arthur some ten or twelve years ago (and seen Monty Python’s Holy Grail one too many times) I was happy to make an end of it when I got back to the Springs.
Lord Jim has the hook in me now. Took a while to accustom myself to the tone of the narrative—along with the odd paragraph/dialogue breaks—but midway through, I’ve begun to appreciate the genius in it. Still maintain most lit journals, agents, and editors would want to pare it severely if it fell into their hands today.
Writing this earlier than usual in the hope I’ll find my way to the gym this evening and return home too exhausted to write.
Have a couple of radio spots to push out the door tomorrow morning, so need to be up early and get a jump on things. Late in the week looks promising for a return to the world of fiction. Crossing my fingers it turns out that way.
