Clinton, South Carolina, Monday, November 11, 2019, 9:51 a.m.

Most mornings, I get up, put some coffee on, plug in the cell to recharge, take some medication, and retire to the facilities.

Then I return, sit down and arm the laptop (okay, sign on), let the coffee cool a bit, and check the morning email and social media while the news is on TV. After the coffee is finished, I disarm the laptop and go back to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

I get the grill warming up, split a bagel, and put the sides in the toaster. Then I put a plate, a bowl, two eggs, cheese, butter (and jelly if the bagel is plain) on the counter. When the bagel(s) pop up, I butter them while they are hot and turn on the stove beneath the frying pan. I place two links of bratwurst (this morning) on the grill, crack and beat the eggs in the bowl, and when a small bit of smoke rises from the pan, I pour the eggs in and then scatter cheese (most often, sharp cheddar) on top. I turn the brats. As I’ve already enjoyed coffee revival, I have tea or diet cola, so I pour it in a glass of ice, stick a straw in it, and place it on the work table, next to the closed laptop. When the eggs are done – cheese melted, little mounds popping up all around – I pick up the pan and use the spatula to sit the omelet whole upon the plate and fold it over and into a perfect omelet. I take the sausage and cut each link into four pieces. I place one side of the bagel over the eggs and the other over the brats, enabling each to be reheated a bit from the heat. I place the plate and a napkin atop the closed laptop, and go to town on my breakfast.

On days when I have a morning appointment, such as this Wednesday, I eat breakfast out at the same place, Steamers, before or after. When I have a luncheon, I skip breakfast. All other times, I skip lunch.

I’m sort of a one-man assembly line on breakfast, and it sets a tone for writing.

A lot of local stories are like breakfast. I chip away and slowly put them together. I try to do a little reading so that I have some faint idea of what I’m doing. I send an email or make a call. Sometimes I use social media to find someone. Sometimes I do an internet search. I try to set up a meeting, preferably one conducive to the taking of photographs. Sometimes the process takes an hour. Sometimes it takes a month. I have an appointment a week from Wednesday that should wrap up a feature that began at least a month ago.

I try to stay caught up. Working for daily newspapers taught me how to stay occupied. I try to do today’s work today and chip away at tomorrow’s. When I can spare a few hours, I write blogs like this and/or write a bit more of my next and ninth novel. Life has gotten busier, and fiction has gone from the front burner to the back.

Each week I write a NASCAR column at competitionplus.com (CP Motorsports), and each Friday night, I talk about racing on a statewide radio talk show. Quite often, I do this show during the first few moments of a high school football game.

“Uh, Phil, that roar is because Duane Martin just sprinted by on the way to the end zone, and, provided the kick is good by Jesus Esparza, Laurens will lead Blythewood, 7-0. … Now back to racing. What was I talking about? Oh, yeah. Phoenix is flat, a mile around like New Hampshire, but recently reshaped and reconfigured. Kevin Harvick has been very strong there, but he has already qualified for the final four, so he may sacrifice himself to help another Ford driver get in.”

I had the situation right but the drivers wrong. On the other hand, I was talking off the top of my head in the middle of a high school football game.

My life is a maelstrom. My box is a mail storm.

As the Statler Brothers once sang, “Uh, don’t tell me … I’ve nothing to doooooo.”

If you become a patron of mine, you’re supporting writing like this as well as my mostly NASCAR blogs at montedutton.com. If you’ve got a few bucks a month to spare, click here.

Another way I cobble out a living is with my books, a wide variety of which is available for sale here.

 

My eighth novel is called Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.

Lightning in a Bottle is now available in an audio version, narrated by Jay Harper.