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For some reason, goofy Thanksgiving hats were all the rage this year...

For some reason, goofy Thanksgiving hats were all the rage this year...



"Gratitude is when memory is stored in the heart and not in the mind." Lionel Hampton


The third Thursday in November means Thanksgiving, of course, and for the third year in a row, Corb and I hosted for the family--this time, for his and mine, which meant 16 seats around the table (on the plus side, it was at one point supposed to be 26, so thank heavens for people dropping out). 


This was actually supposed to be Tommy's turn to host, his first since the Thanksgiving from hell, but Lisa and Tommy sold their house a few months ago and moved to a condo, and "would you mind taking over? We'll help as much as we can!" Which, fine.


This was also Greg's first time at Thanksgiving since his move back (some of you may have read my story about his return home a few months back), and while I was worried that there may be some drama, everything turned out just fine. He does have drama in his life--apparently, he didn't like the job his mom found for him and quit three hours into his first day--but he kept quiet about that on Thanksgiving. 


Read more... )
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“Happiness consists of living each day as if it were the first day of your honeymoon and the last day of your vacation.” – Leo Tolstoy


For the first time since last July, I have a whole week off from work, and even though both Corb and I are now fully vaccinated, we have elected to stay inside Green Victoria and begin work on transforming Ashes' old bedroom into Ted's new office. We are now on our fourth day of work.


Clarification: set designer/chandelier restorer/master builder Corb is really the muscles and brains behind the operation, so I am getting a vacation of sorts. I sit in the bedroom and help when needed and every so often get to sneak off and work on something like, say, this entry. And, that's nice.


So far, we have created a pocket door for the entrance, which frees up a lot of space, and just finished the drywall. We are now in the midst of filling in the holes created as a result of tearing down old drywall, reframing and rewiring some crummy previous construction and then, we may take a break and get away from our house for a few days, and actually travel for a bit.


As I begin to think of the next chapter of my life, these are the things that fill my head: travel, reconstruction, good food, writing and art, and spending time with people I truly love. Oddly, the thought of jumping from one year of isolation into directing a theater production holds little appeal. Will that feeling last? 


Read more... )
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My latest novel, Late Night Show. Get your copy now!



Hey there! I just wanted to share that my latest novel, Late Night Show, is now available, at long, long last. 


Those of you who have been following me on here may recall the long and winding story. I won't repeat it, but I will mention that there is a Live Journal connection that I have been saving all this time--since the beginning of the story revolves around a webcam community, from all different countries and locations, I deliberately incorporated characters that were based on some of my Live Journal friends into the start of the story, to get that multi-cultural feel. Nothing salacious, I can assure you, and a bit veiled, but I just thought it'd be fun to throw a few salutes to old friends into the mix.


Who? Aw, that'd be telling. 


What's the book about? Here's the blurb:


Read more... )
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I laugh and place my book onto my lap (Outlander, btw. Really enjoying it!)

"Can you believe it when Tony called himself an 'an anal conductor'?" I ask out of the blue to Corb, who's relaxing next to me in bed, conquering the world through his phone. Clash of Kings. It's our nightly ritual.

"Oh my God," Corb says, putting his phone down. "I was trying so hard not to laugh. I looked right across the room at Coco and she totally didn't get it. She has no sense of humor, sometimes."

This evening, we held the first production meeting for Young Frankenstein at Green Victoria. Everyone was in attendence, including Coco (art and artwork) and Tony (music direction).

"I mean, I know what he was trying to say: he's really detail oriented and a big pain in the ass, but really? The anal conductor?"

I couldn't help it. At the time, I gave everyone my best Groucho look and said, "Sounds like a really bad porno movie."  Cue laughter. I guess everyone else had been thinking the same thing.

"I can just see the movie, too," Corb says, stretching out his long legs under the covers. "Guy is on a train, turns to conductor. Says to him, 'I can't afford to pay for my train ticket. The conductor moves closer to him, places a hand on his shoulder. Gives him a dirty look, licks his lips. 'I can think of a way,' he says. Boom chicka wah wah."

"See, I was thinking of a totally different movie. Hunky guy is a saxophone player in a symphony orchestra. He bends over to take his instrument out from its case. His firm buttocks are hugging his tight pants. The orchestra conductor moves over and reaches his baton out to stroke the crack in his buttocks. The sax player looks up, turns his head. Eyes meet. 'I've got an instrument for you to play,' says the conductor. Cue music. Boom chicka wah wah."

"That could be the sequel." Corb pauses. "But I like my dirty conductor story better." He squints his eyes, contemplating, then shakes his head. "I don't think there could be another scenario, do you? So, only two Anal Conductor movies. What a shame."

I chew it over for a minute. Then, excitedly: "Sure there could be another. After a freak accident at the local electrical plant, this weird blue jolt starts zapping people in the ass as they are sitting on their Barcaloungers, making them inexplcably horny for anal sex!"

Corb smiles and then shakes his head. Picks up his phone. Back to Clash of Kings. "I'm really not sure how well that one would sell..."

I pick up my book to go back to reading. Hmmm. Well, he may have a point there...  
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A few weeks ago, I was asked by a friend, Bill Richards (who goes by the far more serious formal author name of William D. Richards), to take part in the Writing Process Blog Tour, which is a series of linked blog posts by various authors about their writing process. From what I understand, the idea originated with fantasy author Heidi Garrett.

The idea behind it is that each author answers four questions about their writing and then enlists (coerces, cajoles) other authors to join the tour. And so far, quite a few have. So, in other words, if you link to Bill's post, you can then link back to the fellow who enlisted/coerced/cajoled him into participating, and so on, and so on, until by golly, the end of time. That's right, the end of time!

Okay, maybe not that long. But it does make for an interesting thread to follow. It also gives you a lot of ideas about how each writer finds inspiration and then acts upon it. Isn't writing wonderful like that?

So, that said, before I dive write into to those FOUR WRITING QUESTIONS, I want to thank Bill for asking me to participate (and beg him to keep quiet about any embarrassing stories he may have on me from high school...yes, we go back that far).

Oh, and who is Bill? Yes, yes, that's a perfectly good question.

(Let's pause so I can clear my throat to use my most serious writer's voice. Think of it as a cross between an Orson Wells wine commercial and a Morgan Freeman voiceover...)

William D. Richards discovered writing at an early age thanks to a writing exercise by his fourth grade teacher and since has been bewildering people with his wild flights of fantasy. Yet, it was only recently that he began writing in earnest when the Great Recession forced him into making an involuntary career move. He splits his time between writing, promoting, and coaching others how to take the leap into publishing for themselves. His book, Aggadeh Chronicles Book 1: Nobody, is available through most ebook retail channels. You can find his blog at http://www.williamdrichards.com/

And now, let's dive into those FOUR WRITING QUESTIONS, shall we?

What am I working on?
So, here's my Daleks master plan:
·        First, I'm working on promoting the heck out of Pictures of You. Oh, wait, have I done that here yet? I've got this book, see? It's called Pictures of You. I hope you'll check it out...and if you haven't yet, let me make it easy for you: in case you haven't secured your copy, I'm making the Kindle version available for absolutely NOTHING for the next five days, starting today! So what have you got to lose? It's free! Why not pick up what one reader described as " a delightful, page turning experience for readers of all ages"?
·        Next, I'm in the revision process for my next novel, The Late Night Show, which I'm planning to issue forth from Green Victoria Press around the end of the year. Think Pictures was creepy? Late Night is even darker. It's all about webcams, but with a Rear Window kind of twist. Here's the scoop:

The camera doesn’t lie, but it may not tell the whole story, either. That’s what college freshman Kami Corley discovers when she meets a strange girl named Jeanette in a webcam community and receives a disturbing plea for help. Drawn into her story, Kami wants to, but one Friday night at the stroke of midnight, she discovers to her horror that her efforts have deadly consequences, when Jeanette is executed before her eyes. Without knowing her real name or where she comes from, Kami has nowhere to turn, and also, that she herself is now caught in a web from which there is no escape—only this time, she's the one on the inside, looking out.

·        After that? Well, of course, there's always Confessions of a Diva Rotundo, a murder mystery told from the hammy lips of the ultimate community theater actor, looking to clear himself of being the murder suspect and still get that standing ovation on opening night. And there's also a YA fantasy called Amelia's Bones, which my friends have been asking me to publish for years. So, just a few things in the hopper...

How does my work differ from others of its genre?
Hmmm, that's an interesting one. I'd rather talk about what my stories tend to focus on, rather than how they are different from the rest. In order for a book to interest me, it has to have a strong central character. A lot of times I write about people who don't have perfect lives: gender identity issues, absent parents, single moms, siblings with autism, kids who are bullied. A lot of my work is about giving voice to voices that don't fit the norm. Some that lack the courage...and some, that hide in the shadows.

And then, I put them through hell.

Why do I write what I do?
I was dropped on my head as a child. Twice. That's the only way to explain, I think.

But then I suppose there is a kinder, gentler way of looking at things. I've been writing since the first grade, ever since my dad tucked me into bed with stories about Nancy Drew's younger brother and the Lone Ranger and Tonto. And my first thought: "I don't want these stories to end." And that's why the stories keep coming.

How does my writing process work?
Usually my process starts by being distracted by something stupid. Like, tonight's story was about the world's oldest cat. No, seriously!

Oh, all right. It starts as an idea. Usually something along the lines of: "Wouldn't it be funny if?" I recently wrote about how Pictures of You came into being on the wonderful blog Skewed Notions. That was completely a "what if" sort of story.

But more than that, there's the sheer mechanics. When I am knee deep in writing a book, my goal is to write a least one page a day. That's all: just one page. After a year, you'll have 365 pages, right? And I do it the hard way, too: hand-written, on a yellow Legal pad (anyone who has seen my handwriting will know what a chore that is to decipher). That makes the first typed draft a first edit, of sorts.

And then comes the re-writing. And the re-writing after that. And editing. And input from friends. I can't help it, I take my time. I want the end result to be as good as I can possibly get it. Well, when I'm not being distracted by cat stories, that is.

Passing the hat.
What, have the four questions been answered so quickly? My how time flies. Okay, so I am now tagging two other accomplished artists, who have just seven days to come up with their own responses. They are:

Kira Tregoning is a language enthusiast, writer, and book lover. I met her while she was in the process of rolling out her latest novel, She writes mostly fantasy right now, although she has some ideas for expanding into other genres. She lives in Maryland with my meddling cuddle-monster of a cat, Mama-Sita, who enjoys getting in the way when she's trying to write. No, she is not the world oldest cat. Her website is found at: http://theworldofcora.wordpress.com/

And then there's my dear friend JM Cornwell, someone I consider to be a mentor and an inspiration. Jackie was the person who dragged me kicking and screaming into the world of self-publishing, and I love her for it. Jackie has contributed stories to several Chicken Soup, Cup of Comfort and various anthologies. Her first novel, Past Imperfect, was published in 2009 and her second, the terrific, Among Women, came out 2011, and she is currently working on a sequel called Among Men. She can be found at: http://redroom.com/member/jm-cornwell.

Rock on, ladies! I look forward to hearing what you have to say.
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Saturday was my second book signing at Ugly Dog Books and we decided to take Kyra with us. Although I had some concerns about bringing a puppy (on the second day we've had her) to a store for a signing, here's how she ended up. She was a perfect angel...friendly with everyone and didn't whimper once. Kim, the owner at Ugly Dog, said she is welcome any time.

As for the signing? It went really well. Signed a few books, met up with some old friends (including my favorite teacher from high school), had a local cable station that came to interview me and also received an invitation to discuss the book at a book club. Pretty happy with those results. Now I have to plan the next one.

Oh! Also have been asked to participate in The Writing Process Blog Tour, which is a series of linked blog posts by various authors about how their writing process works when creating a new story. I was asked by William D Richards, the author of the The Aggadeh Chronicles, who's also an old friend. How old? Well, we may have actually been in band camp together, many years ago. He played the saxophone, which is a lot cooler than what I used to play. (DON'T ASK.) Anyway, his post about the writing process is up on his site, and mine will be in about seven days. After I write a bunch of other nonsense. You know how it goes.

Anyway, this is going to be a short entry. Honestly, the puppy is wearing us out! I mean, she is a great dog, but...well, she's a puppy, you know? It's tough squeezing everything that needs to be done now into one day. My biggest concern now: when are we going to find time to shop for groceries? Seriously, that cupboard is looking pretty damn bare...

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She's home! And honestly, she's been an angel so far. She sleeps through the night in her crate without a whimper and so far has been so well behaved. And look at that snout!

In other news: another Author Signing today. This one is going to be fairly well attended. I am loving life.


kyrakyra3
kyra2
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Best part of my very first author night? Well, actually having it happen, of course. But also, reconnecting with one of my best friends in the world.

No, she's not the one in the photo. That's Kim, who is the owner of Ugly Dog Books, and the person who decided to make Pictures of You the featured book of the month at the store. The book signing was a great experience, and Kim reported back to me at the end of the night that it went really well, too, from her perspective.

Good. I'm glad, because my goal had always been to promote the second book signing on May 10 a bit heavier. I was using Friday's event as a test, to see how things went. One piece of advice that she gave me--that I pass on to other authors--is toi mingle with the patrons, rather than sticking yourself behind a table. Shake hands, talk up the book. It makes for a livelier event.

The hour flew by. There were folks I knew, like Corb of course (who kindly took photos) and Josie, as well as theater friends (one of who shared with me a delicious piece of gossip. It was better than key lime pie!) I tested Kim's advice on some of the patrons I didn't know (and made a few sales as a result), and also got to catch up with some old friends who I wouldn't have seen if I hadn't been at the book signing. It really was the best of both worlds.

The best was seeing my old friend Joyce, who was the first person I made friends with my freshman year of high school and someone who has always been in my life since then. Oh, we've had some periods where we don't speak for months at a time, but we always reconnect and the friendship is always as strong as it was...and that's not something you can say about everyone in your life.

I can honestly say Joyce has been a huge influence in my writing style. She has a great sense of humor and an uncanny knack for the absurd. In fact, everything I wrote in my first few years of high school were with her in mind. And then, when I was ready to step out and have other people see my stuff (I wrote two plays that were performed in high school on stage, one of which won an award from The Boston Globe), Joyce was still the first person to read it, and also, someone who had a sharp sense of what needed to be reworked or edited. To this day, when I write something ridiculous, I often channel her (yes, SHE's to blame).

More than just the inspiration, though, has been the friendship. If I had a dime for every hour we spent on the phone laughing over silly things in high school and college I would be a rich man! Of course, back in those days, ours phones were chained to the walls by plastic cords and the emails we would send each other were crafted from paper and ink. Primative times, but of course, the one advantage is, I still have many of those letters to this day.

A lot of times, Joyce would read my stories and plays in high school and criticize them by writing under the pen name of Melvin A . Padoodle, my alleged therapist. So naturally, when she brought her copy of Pictures of You over to me on Friday night, I asked her whether I should it should be addressed to Melvin.

"That quack?" she replied. "No, make this one out to ME."

After the signing was done, we invited Joycey to go out with us for dinner at my favorite Mexican restaurant, and then invited her over to hang at Green Victoria. Of course, that visit stretched to around one in the morning.

"I like having Joyce around," Corb said as we were going to bed that night. "You two laugh like you are still in high school."

Yeah. I like that feeling, too. It's good to have friends who know you from way back when. I am blessed to have quite a few of them.

"Some friendships are meant to last a lifetime," I wrote in Pictures of You. I know exactly who I was referring to when I wrote that, too.
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Thanks for all the spam advice, my friends. It was all quite useful!

Oh, and I just realized that this month marks my tenth anniversary with Live Journal. Ten years of ridiculous entries from me, and no one has attempted to kill me yet. That's something, right?

Here's my first entry, dated August 4, 2002:

***

Okay, this is it...this is the time that I be truthful to myself, accept who i am, and be happy with it. For the past three years, I've been on a quest for truth, trying to discover who I am and to be happy and brave about that to others. The first two years were very unhappy times, punctuated by travels and adventures that I wouldn't give up for anything. Since last October, however, things have gone into hyperdrive, and I think that me and my partner have finally gotten to a place where we can accept things and try to move forward, without everything going unspoken. We'll see. Can I actually be brutally honest about my life? Can I sweep away the shadows?

***

So, have I done that? Have I been "brutally" honest about my life in the past ten years? Have I swept away the shadows?

Well, I am no longer with Josie, although we're still dear friends. We're divorced, although it took eight years. I've been completely honest with the kids, although that only took...ten years. I'm with Corb, and we've had our ups and downs, but we're still going strong. We could be stronger. We keep working on that.

My brutally honest answer: I have had moments of honesty, I've had moments of dishonesty. I've swept away some shadows, and I've replaced them with other shadows. I've also had a lot of laughs, punctuated by travels and adventures I wouldn't give up for anything.

Hmmm. I might need another ten years to get this right.
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elvis
           " I did it!

            You know how sometimes you just know, the minute you start a performance, that you’re totally on fire and in the moment?

            Oh, of course, those of you aren’t theatrically inclined wouldn’t, but let me tell you, that’s how I felt the minute I set foot next to the grand piano and turned to face the man in the director’s chair."

Read more... )
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ethel
"You must know, my dear, auditions are not everyone’s cup of tea. In fact, some people would rather have their prostate removed by the burning hot fist of the ghost of Ethel Merman than endure yet another humiliating round of proving their worth. 

I, on the other hand, rather like auditions.

Maybe it’s because I’m just that good."

Read more... )

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With the play over, and the next chapter of the life of Tedwords finally under way, one of things I've been determined to do is to focus more on my writing. This week, I made great progress in editing my Late Night manuscript, which my agent had asked me to update back in January. This past week, I edited 200 pages, and the good news is, the technology didn't need to be updated half as much as I was fearing.

I have plans on where to go with Late Night, but possibly that's better left unsaid. Let's just say I have a rough outline of what I'd like to do with my life, and leave it at that.

In the meantime, one other writing goal was to spend more time writing letters. Yes, writing. My friend [livejournal.com profile] fixnwrtr has been maintaining a steady correspondence with me for over a year now, but during the course of directing the play, that correspondence became entirely one-sided.

In fact, I have to confess, by the time the play was over, I had a small stack of letters from her, unopened. They would stare at me at nights, making me feel guilty.

One of the first things I did after the play ended was to go through them, one after the other. And then, I made it a point to actually write to her in response. In the past month, I've managed to send out three letters. Actual letters, too, with actual pages attached.

I have to admit, when I first started, my letter writing skills were nothing to (pardon the pun) write home about. My handwriting had deteriorated terribly through the years, through disuse. I mean, who actually writes any more? Aside for the first drafts of my manuscripts (and let's face it, there haven't been any of those in a few years) and a few attempts at morning journaling, not this guy.

As a result, my first few letters were cramped, messy. I can only imagine poor J. trying to struggle through them. I have a weird enough handwriting style as it is, a helpless hodgepodge of lower case mixed with upper case. Throw in sloppiness as a result of disuse and it's a wonder poor J. didn't just rip them up and scatter them to the winds.

I've been seeing progress. The letter that I just finished was actually legible, I think. The letters were large, the o's and the g's perfectly formed (for the most part.) I even attempted my favorite signature at the end of the letter, along with a tiny Ted cartoon.

I must admit, letter writing feels good. Like journaling, but in a different way. It's different than electronic journaling (like Live Journal) because it's all by hand, and that feels more personal, for some reason. It's different than personal journals because it's not simply one sided, which has been one of the problems with personal journals I've had over the years. I don't WANT to just write stories to myself. I want other people to read them, comment upon them. I like the two-way discourse (even if I'm not always so great on keeping up my side of the conversation.)

And I like the process of letter writing. The smell of the ink. The feel of the pen in the hand, The struggle to fill the page, the process of addressing a letter. Yes, even the licking of stamp. Definitely the satisfying feeling of placing the letter in the mailbox. It's like sex, only it lingers longer. 

What I do find, however, is that life only hands you so much time, and it's hard to keep up with everything. Between editing the book, letter writing, Facebook, Live Journal, Blogspot, not to mention email, there are just too many ways to communicate these days. Forget Twitter. Something has to give, and I find Twitter to be way too limiting. The only time I actually use it is to promote a story, if I feel I have a good one worth telling. That has happened in a month or so, frankly.

Am I the only one who feels that there's too much of a good thing out there? How do other people do it? When I'm at work, I find it practically impossible to keep up with everything.

Maybe my retirement from theater will help things. At least, that's one of the goals. In the meantime, I'm just grateful that this week has given me some ability to feel a bit more organized...at least, on the writing front.   
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One of the things I get crap about all the time is the fact that I never answer my cell phone. "Why didn't you answer?" is something I'm always hearing from the kids or the ex-wife or the someday mother-in-law, usually in a slightly offended tone, as if I took one look at the name of the person calling and pushed my phone away, cackling out gleefully, "As if!"

Truth is, during the day, I keep my phone on vibrate because the sound of it pinging every five seconds due to all the email I get is enough to drive me crazy (but not enough to get me to vote Republican). Plus, it's annoying for the guy at work who sits behind me, who puts the mudge in the word curmudgeon. Him, I don't want to annoy. Then, at night, I forget to turn it back on to "noise" mode, so I can never hear it when someone calls, because I have this weird thing about having stuff touch my body, like rings or watches or, well...cell phones. So, I usually place it by the record player (yes, record player. They're back in style, right?) and forget about it.

This is why I was so gratified last night, to be driving home from Boston and hear the following exchange between Google executive Rick Schmidt and Gwen Ifill:
SCHMIDT: It's always alarming to me that people text message. They don't talk on the phone anymore. And people actually have forgotten how to leave voice messages on phones. It's sort of shocking, right?
GWEN IFILL: They have forgotten how to check them as well.
ERIC SCHMIDT: That's right.

Yep, that's me all over. Given the choice between sending a text message and having to be forced to actually engage in verbal intercourse, I'll take the text message, each and every time.

And also, what's the point of a voice message, I ask you, in this day and age? Most people I know have phones that clearly indicate who it was who called you, unless it's a bill collector or someone you don't know.

Now, if it is a bill collector or someone you don't know, by all means, leave a message. But otherwise, why do I need to bother listening to a message? I'd much rather just send a text message asking, "What's up?"

I don't miss it, either. Voice mails are not things that I shall sigh wistfully over and mourn the passage of, unlike the lost art of letter writing or the charming smell of burned wood on your clothing in the days when we used to communicate by smoke signal. Ah, those were the days. Even carrier pigeons have a certain charm, if you're into birds (dirty, disgusting, filthy, lice-ridden boids).

Not voicemails. I always hated leaving them...never know what to say, so I always try to be clever, and I'm sure, more than not, fall flat. And most voicemails are a trial to sit through and listen. The only one that really sticks in my head that's ever been worth keeping was one where boss called and forgot he was leaving me a message, mid-call, because one of his sons chewed the leg off of another son's Barbie doll.

Listening to my boss yell at his kid was kind of entertaining, i have to admit. I could just see him waving the amputated Barbie doll in his son's face, screaming with anger. Have to admit, I did keep the message around for months, just because it brought a smile on my face.

Also, some answering machine messages were kind of fun to listen to, too, in the dinosaur days of answering machines. Those days are long gone. Goner than records, apparently. No one leaves cute messages any more for you to snicker over. We're all far more serious, far more corporate, far more boring, than THAT.

So, sure, count me in as one of those who has gleefully ditched the practice of actual phone conversations and voicemail messages. Does that make me less the social guy I once was?

Perhaps. I suppose. Yes, yes it does.

However! All that time saved does gives me more time to play "Words with Friends" on Facebook! And that's...well, kind of social, right? Hey, a guy's got to have his priorities.
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There you go. The end of an era: the demise of the super-bookstore.

Sunday afternoon, Ashes and I stopped by our local Borders to see what was there to be had. She snagged a ton of YA, I stuck with feeding my passion for Twain and picked up copies of Life on the Mississippi and Huck Finn. God, I love that man.

In my heart of hearts, I have this strange hope that the demise of the huge bookstores will bring things full circle, and usher in a return to small local bookstores. Certainly, my quasi-city could use one: with Borders closed, I can't think of a bookstore in the vicinity. A small local bookstore would be nice, I think. Maybe keep a little online business going on the side. Hey, maybe it can't make BIG HUGE PROFITS...but guess what? Evidently, neither could Borders.

However, I know, in my mind of minds, that such a thing is not going to happen. As much as I would like the demise of big business to signal the resurgance of small business, I know that what it really signals is the inevitable ascendancy of virtual business. The local bookstore housed within your computer, on your Kindle. No need to go out, interact with people, drive your car. You can take care of everything from your bedroom, with your slippers on (never mind that because everything is virtual, and there's less need for, oh, American employees, those slippers are pretty ratty, because you can't afford to buy new ones).

Such is the way our world is headed. Someday soon, most necessities will be purchased without leaving our home, which is okay, because our job will be in our home, too. Already, I suspect that a good percentage of us who have jobs could possibly conduct most of our work out of our homes, if we needed to. The only real jobs for most of the population outside of the home will be in fast food, medical, warehouse storage, and delivery. To save money, the government will establish virtual classrooms to teach our children. Our entertainment will be fed to us through our large screen televisions. The only reason any of us will need any sort of outside business is to buy fast food and to pump gas to visit non-virtual friends. And, for those who can afford it, expensive vacation resorts, like Disney. Oh, and attorneys will survive, too.

And also, what will happen to all of these empty monster stores? I thought they were stupid and useless when they were first being erected everywhere, but now I wonder, what's going to happen to all of them, eventually? 

Maybe they can be torn down, to make way for large family homes or rental units. In a virtual world, jobs will be increasingly hard to find, as only the truly technically savvy will have jobs that pay anything worth a damn. To make due, the size of the nuclear family structure will have to increase, as only two or three will have jobs that pay much, and the community that used to be our work community will revert back to the family structures we used to see hundreds of years ago (only perhaps larger and older, since we are living longer, now). Also, it won't be two parents, ten kids, but a broader, more diverse assemblage--two or three kids, one parent, an aunt or brother, grandparents.  

Okay, well that's just plain depressing. Can you see why a return to the small local bookstore is what my heart is hoping for? The other possibility doesn't seem like a very pleasant existance at all. I'll take a return to normalcy, thank you.
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“Boston Globe on deadline. Please call XOXO”

 

Well, that’s strange.

 

Well, maybe not the message itself. I mean, with my job, it’s not really an out-of-the-ordinary thing. Except for the “XOXOs” tacked on to the end of it. I don’t know many reporters who do that.

 

Oh, and the fact that it’s ten o’clock on a Saturday night. There aren't many reporters with deadlines like that.

 

Still, who is it? Is it friend or crackpot? Or, both? After all, I have a few of those, too.

 

Better to play it safe, was my conclusion. So I text back: “What?”

 

Five minutes later, a response: “I said please call or you’re fired!”

 

Wow, this reporter has some pull. Amused, I shoot off a return response: “This is a joke, right?”

 

You could almost hear the deep sigh in the message that followed. “Oh, Teddy, this is Loretta. Please call me.”

 

Turns out that Sweet Loretta was in the town of Eldredge, a New York pal of mine from way back (she played a role in my story “The reporter who came to dinner” back in February 2010, for those keeping track). She’s also the guardian angel who hooked me up with author Aine Greaney, who was kind enough to profile me in her book for Writer’s Digest called “Writer with a Day Job,” which came out in May. (I’m sure you can still pick up a copy somewhere, for as long as bookstores still exist. Otherwise, you can pick up a copy online.)

 

Loretta was here for a wake (oddly enough, for a relative of a lady who performed in a show I wrote and directed many years ago...but that’s a whole other story), and wanted to know whether I had any time on Sunday afternoon to catch up with her and Aine.

 

And that’s how, sixteen hours later, I ended up at the Bangkok Café for some decent Thai food and some first-rate conversation.

 

You never know what you’re going to talk about when you put a group of writers together, of course, which is why I invited Ashes along for the ride. Sure enough, the conversation ranged from how to give a cat an enema to the reporter who came to dinner to reptilian poets who show up at writers conferences looking to scoop up a lady scribe or two. Needless to say, Ashes found it an enlightening experience.

 

Oh, what’s that? Kitty enemas? From what I understand, it doesn’t have much to do with tubes and water, although personally, I think that would be a hysterical thing to try and do. Instead, it has more to do with constipated cats and tiny little needles. Which doesn’t sound much fun, either. I’d rather take my chances with a tube, frankly.

 

 Kitty enemas may not be much fun, but the day was. It’s always a pleasure to sit down amidst the company of writers. One thing you can always count on with a group like that is the love of a good story.


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Leaning towers and repentance
From this week-end: Leaning towers and Repentance


With the first week-end of the play over, life can now go back to normal. Sitting at home, watching 30 Rock and The Avengers. Taking up running with Corb. Preparing our great road trip down the East Coast. Finishing that Twain autobiography. Getting back to actually writing about things, in a style that less resembles a haiku and more resembles a coherent story-line.

Well, almost. Tonight I've been invited for sushi with Hot Coco. The great party machine that has been Guys and Dolls rolls on, and I love it.

Oh, and at work, I'm computerless, which is really harshing my mellow. the hard drive crashed over the week-end. "Bad drive," I'm told. Bad drive...I need to get things done! I have no time for bad drives. Today I'm working at home, so I can at least have some computer access and get some projects moving.

What have I learned about this whole experience? Oh, so many things. Work with people you like being around, because it makes the entire process so much more enjoyable. Also, cast the right people in the right roles, and let them go to town. I am by nature a collaborative director, and the ongoing discussions I've had with my leads, with the ensemble, with the set crew, have really been a source of enjoyment and made the show better.

This is one show I won't look back on and say, "Ugh, not that." And I think a big thing I learned was that no matter what the end result, how you get there is just as important. At least, for me.

Thursday, back to New York for a day. Looking forward to that.

Oh, and did I mention, I'm profiled in a book that just came out by Writer's Digest? It's called "Writer with a Day Job," by Aine Greaney. The book came out the same week as the opening of the show, so I was too tied up to mention it. Anyway, it's a handy guide for writer's looking to hone their craft, and you get a section of me talking about my writing process and endless ruminations on my kids and ex-wife. I mean, what else would you expect?

Corb just woke up and, while heading to the bathroom to drain his wang, muttered "typey typey." True, but I have to admit, getting up in the morning and just typing for even a half an hour is a nice way to start the day. Time to get back in the habit.

Maybe next time I'll even write about something that has some substance to it. Who knows? 
tedwords: (Default)
For those of you looking for some Corb and Ted "blasts from the past," check out my latest entry for the Write On Project, for this week's theme, which is "Coincidence." I contributed "The Rise and Fall of the Stoned Guest," which is a story I told here about three years ago.

It's a scary little story full of dumb fun involving me, Corb, a guest appearance from our old cat (and deceased Live Journal poster) Thumbkin, and a scary little fellow named Damien. Please feel free to post some comments there...would love to have some responses!

Here's the story...
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This Christmas, my mom's receiving a special gift: a blast from her past.

For the past three years, she's been asking me to go through my record collection (yes, I actually still do have a couple of boxes filled with THOSE), in order to return to her a record that I lifted many years ago. Of course, at that time, my parents had tossed their record player and didn't think they'd be able to ever use them. But now, thanks to the wonders of retro-technology, what's old is new again.

What she wanted is a comedy album called "The First Family," which was wildly popular when John F. Kennedy first was elected into office. From what I understand, it sold like crazy during the Camelot years, but then sales understandably plummeted upon JFK's assassination. Vaughn Meader, the man who created the album, suddenly found himself without a career, and spent the rest of his life trying to find a new voice.

Now, I'm a good boy, I am, and I really do want to help mum out. The only problem is, I left all of my record albums at Josie's house, where they've been gathering dust in her basement (well, as much dust as objects sealed up in a plastic container can gather, I guess). One thing I can tell you about separating from someone, even if you still see that person every day...which I pretty much do...it's hard to find time to grab things from their basement, once you're gone. I still have boxes of stuff that haven't been touched in eight years.

Last week-end on Halloween, Josie asked Corb to go downstairs and find a rubber mask for Theo to wear for trick or treating. This was the moment. I followed along, intent on picking up my mum's album, along with maybe a few other choice memories that have been rotting away like fermented grapes in her cellar.

So, the First Family's back in my hands. While I was down in Josie's cellar, I also picked up one of my boxes, too, a small one that had scribbled upon it "IMPORTANT Stuff."

So, I went through that box last night. I have to tell you, I'm not really sure what was so IMPORTANT about it. Mostly, it was some work stuff and an old play that I produced in my twenties. A few letters, one of which was really sad, from a friend who was in pretty dire straights and just wanted to hear from me (note to self: did I ever write back?) An enormous bra, placed in a picture frame, which had been a gift from a friend. Drawings, mostly cartoons, of very busty women. I was a regular Matisse, back then.

Oh, and one other thing. I think this box actually contains further evidence of my own insanity.

Read more... )
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"Do you believe the dead people like it for us to be here?"
Tom Sawyer

A few days ago, Corb discovered an old cemetery near our place.

He was driving by, with Theo. It's barely bigger than a postage stamp, really. Definitely family-owned.

It's surrounded by a thin wrought-iron fence, with a narrow opening at the front for the living to walk through. Well kept up, in many ways. You can tell that someone still cares for it, even if it isn't very fancy. Just a plain, ordinary, run-of-the-mill New England-style old-fashioned cemetery.

Corb pulled his car over. Theo and he got out of the car. Corb had paper in the back of the car and a few crayons, and they decided to go take some grave rubbings and a few photos.

"Funny thing is, in the photos, you can actually see the words on the grave better than you can in real life. The moss makes it really difficult to see, but see here?" He showed me his iPhone. "You can read it, just fine."

He showed me another photo, with the name Bathsheba Putnam on the headstone. "And see this one? When I took this photo, the phone froze and then the screen turned off. It made weird clicking noises. Then it went back to normal, a few minutes later."

Suddenly, the phone went black. "See? It just did it again. On that exact same photo."

Last night, at midnight, Theo, Corb, Ashes, and I crept out of our house to visit Bathsheba once again.

I wish I could say that we saw something. Devil-fire. Apparitions. But unfortunately, Ashes was too freaked out by the whole thing, and begged us to leave, even before we had actually entered the cemetary. All I managed to get was one shot of a gravestone, and a glimpse into a yellow window that illuminated one of the houses set next to the grave.

We'll be back, Bathsheba. Mark my words.

Otherwise... The rewrites are coming along...just needed a few days to decompress after the play. Have made it a point to chip away at the suggestions my agent made on Pictures of You . At first, I worked on the easier stuff, but last night, I identified where I wanted to start making the additions I had planned. It really is like building an addition onto your house.

I deliberately woke up at nine this morning and managed to grab the tone for the newest addition I'm making and dash off two pages, like that. That's a good sign.

Today we travel to Provincetwon. Corb warns me that it's going to be a long, busy trip, because it's the day before the 4th. I know that, but I think it will be fun. We need to do us some adventuring.

Put to Bed.

Mar. 5th, 2009 07:45 am
tedwords: (Default)
C,

Well, here it is. Four months later, countless revisions...swelling the page count to 360, and then slimming it down to 292 pages. It literally felt like going on a diet! The funny thing is, despite the crash diet, I really didn't cut much out of the essential revisions I made.

I've also had the ms read by half a dozen readers, including two 17-year-old girls (one said it was "better than crack," which I found a bit disturbing. The other finished it at five in the morning, in one sitting), a sixth grade reading teacher, and two pretty decent copy editors.


I sent the email at two in the morning. So, with Late Night put to bed...once again...for now...I can now focus on my trip to New York City.

This morning, Corb and I will pack and head off with our friends Judi and Sue at around ten. We're going to see Guys and Dolls tonight, and tomorrow night, celebrate Judi's birthday with a few friends. That's all I know so far, but more to come!

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