My social calendar stays relatively free. Mostly, I get invited to events because people want me to write about them, or it, or them and it, whether they are ballgames, media conferences, or something else. I don’t think people trust me. They think I might write about them. Which is true. Not by name, though. …
Category: Writing
Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Get Ready, Get Ready!
The Charge of the Light Brigade is on TV. I flipped over when Son of Lassie ended. I’m hardly watching. It’s background noise. For some reason, I like it while writing. Such as now. A familiar morning feeling. It’s like stretching before exercise. I remember that. I was just thinking about …
Continue reading Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Get Ready, Get Ready!
A Morning Work-Up
I intend to write a chapter of fiction in my sixth novel, which does not, of yet, have a title. This is typical of the way I sing scales in advance of a writing chorus. Only Americans would spend more than two years narrowing down a gigantic field of presidential candidates to the two …
Same Old Me in a Different Direction
I have a clue where the next novel is headed. I can see the general direction. Out on the horizon lies a lovely sunset. I've just got to figure out how to get there. As the cowboy in the old Texas tune "I'm a Ro-Deo-Deo-Deo Cowboy (Bordering on the Insane)" expresses: Gimme a beer or …
Seeking Just the Right Amount of Me
The manuscript of Cowboys Come Home is slightly more than four hundred pages, 94,000 words, double-spaced and twelve in point, and the manuscript of the as-yet-unnamed sixth novel is six pages and 1,600 words, but things are looking up. It now has an outline. A major difference between the former and the latter is that …
Wandering Through the Fingers of My Hands
Each morning Facebook provides a look back to items I posted on this date in previous years. Mostly it informs me that what I am doing is the same. Now I'm trying to tie all the loose ends in my fifth novel, Cowboys Come Home, together. The manuscript is ready. I have to make up …
Crazy Little Thing Called Writing
So much to do. So little time. It wasn't too long ago that writers got to spend their time writing. They didn't have to tweet and post and pretend it was writing, too. A book is an art. A blog is a craft. A tweet is a trick. It's not that I don't enjoy social …
A Day That Clicked
It was blazing hot outside, but I never knew it. I shaved but never showered. On TV, the U.S. Open thought it was the Twenty-Four Hours of Le Mans. I was mainly oblivious. Occasionally, a hot-pink shirt or a crowd’s roar drew my attention. Golf announcers are exceedingly calm and mostly literate. Vin Scully is …
Can’t Rush the Important Stuff
My goal today is to complete the first draft of what I intend to be my fifth novel, Cowboys Come Home. I'm expecting it to take two more drafts, perhaps only one, but I'm optimistic on such matters, and two is the likelihood. They won't take too long. The story isn't likely to require any …
The Rush of Water
At the moment, I'm watching many people younger than I oversimplifying the life of Muhammad Ali. TV is often awash in glaring generalities. I'm also having a devil of a time with this blog. Lately I'm stuck in a blogging rut. I use blogs as warm-ups for more challenging activities, oh, like, maybe the conclusion …
Nightrider's Lament 