Writefinger

Christmas Day

2010-12-25T12:33:00.000-06:00

Last year it snowed here. A rare white Christmas in central Texas. No snow this year. In fact it was like a Spring day in the 70s on Tuesday. Then yesterday it turned rainy and cold, more typical for this time of the season. Today, Christmas, the sun is out and it's a beautiful day.

As a warm weather guy I just as well do without snow or ice. Can't walk in it. Don't want to drive in it. Making my way back to central California is the best way to avoid lousy Winter cold and rain.

I began reading Robert Heinlein's "Starship Troopers" last night. The 1959 controversial bestseller was made into a movie, of course, but I had never read the book. He gets right into the story with a mobile infantry attack on a town of creatures eight feet tall called "skinnys" because they evidently don't gain much weight eating people. He tosses out a reference to the Bugs, giving a hint of what is to come.

I'm just about finished with Stephen Sears "Chancellorsville" as I continue my study of civil war battles and military history. A lesson to learn from General Lee: when you're out numbered two to one by an enemy, don't run. Look for a way to impose your will and take the initiative.

Las Vegas Area Writers

2009-10-23T13:45:00.006-05:00

My search for a local writer's group in Las Vegas has turned up very little so far. From Google all I can find are these three groups:

The Las Vegas Writers Group. www.meetup.com/Las-Vegas-Writers
The Henderson Writers Group. http://www.hwg.mergentsquared.com/
The Writer's Pen & Grill. http://www.penandgrill.com/

The Pen and Grill is really more of a social gathering. According to its website, "The Writer’s Pen & Grill is designed to get writers away from their computers—at least once a month. Come hang out, socialize, and...yes…have a cocktail."

My plan is to attend the meeting of the Las Vegas Writers Group in November and eventually the Henderson Writers Group. I'm also checking with UNLV to see what's available. I'm looking for some local contacts and a regular meeting with other writers. A Las Vegas Writer's Conference is also in the works.

I'm surprised I didn't find more here, but I'll keep looking.

Do Not Sit on Banister

2009-08-16T11:36:00.005-05:00

I looked at the sign taped to the wall in the Theater at the Clark County Library yesterday and knew it was going to be a long day: "Do Not Sit on Banister." These signs dotted the arena-style theater where I was attending a conference hosted by the library for writers and published authors. I figured the warning sign was appropriate. It was another way of reminding me to be careful, like a voice speaking softly in the back of my head saying, "Don't take any unnecessary risk."

My life for the last two years, however, has been all about taking risk. But that's another story for another time.

The Clark County Library on East Flamingo is a large complex going under an expansion, thus I noticed black plastic sheeting, tools, construction equipment, and dust on my walk to the theater. When I entered the auditorium I encountered the first of many "Do Not Sit on Banister" signs. Thanks for the warning. I found my seat quickly, positioned left center of the podium at stage front.

In the middle of the two-story arena was the semi-circular stage, dark curtains pulled and pleated. Two items were there: a table with six water bottles lined up like toy soldiers and an old-style oak podium with a microphone. I was reminded of college days in East Texas and for a moment I was back in school waiting for an afternoon production of "On the Waterfront" to begin. Then Frank Sinatra's voice echoed throughout the theater jolting me back into reality--I'm two miles from the Las Vegas strip--about as far from a rural East Texas college town as one can get.

An estimated 300 persons attended the conference hosted by Carolyn Hayes Uber of Stephens Press. Among her first comments when taking the stage were to admire the large crowd and say how proud she was of the "literary scene in Las Vegas." Las Vegas is not readily admired for it's artists and literary talents, unless you consider Penn and Teller creative geniuses and Carrot Top a bookworm. The crowd this day was a mixture of men and women, almost evenly numbered. (I was surprised. Most writing conferences I've attended are dominated by women...not a bad thing since I'm single.)

Ms. Uber spoke of the publishing industry in session one. Then author Maralys Wills spoke in session two about preparing manuscripts for publication. She offered "Ten Ways to Upgrade Your Manuscript". Session three featured an editor. But I left after session two. My back was getting tired. Perhaps sitting on the banister would have been more comfortable.

_________________________________________

Things I Learned at the Writer's Conference

1. 400,000 individual book titles were published last year.
2. Only 10 of those 400,000 book titles sold more than a million copies. Most of the books sold less than 100 copies.
3. You won't get rich writing books.
4. 70 percent of all books published will not make enough money to pay for the author's advance.
5. 10 percent of all the books sent to an agent will actually get published...1 percent will make a profit.
6. Most Americans buy books from four places: Costco, Sams Club, WalMart, and Target.
7. Rejection slips are normal and to be expected. Big Tip (from Maralys Wills): "keep improving your manuscript and keep sending it out until it's published."
8. The average royalty paid to authors: 10.7 percent of net (no longer a percentage of gross). That means the publisher must make money before the author gets paid anything beyond the advance.

A Morning with the Sparrows

2009-08-02T00:04:00.005-05:00

The sparrows were out this morning, snapping at each other, some flying across the patio looking for something to eat. I join them for breakfast most weekday mornings at Starbucks. I pinch off a small piece of my bagel making sure not to include the cream cheese. (I'm not sure what cream cheese will do to the digestive system of a sparrow.) I like to flick a crumb-sized portion of an Albertson's raisin and cinnamon bagel among the birds and watch them fight each other for it.

Only the swift will win. Once a crumb-bagel hits the ground, a sparrow swoops down and grabs the morsel in its mouth and quickly takes flight to a nearby tree branch to enjoy breakfast without the company of its friends. Rude bird. Selfish twit.

I glance to my left and see the Chevron station serving breakfast gas to a covey of hungry cars. This intersection in Henderson must be one of the busiest in the Las Vegas valley. Hundreds of cars speed by my observation post on the patio located high above the scene. Workers are preparing the landscape around the station, hauling dirt and planting trees. The sparrows nearby seem to take notice. They turn their heads to glance at the workers and then just as quickly turn back towards me and look for more bagel crumbs.

To my right is the Texaco station across the street to the north. A huge American flag is waving from its pole. I see a bike rider scampering along the sidewalk, peddling fast. His backpack is heavy. Perhaps he's a student with a load of books. Steam from the street is rising in curly rhythms like clear sheets of velvet causing the bike rider to look warped and otherworldly. I swipe my forehead and collect a bead of sweat as I notice how hot it is.

A branch of the Colonial Bank is directly in front of my outpost about 200 yards away. I read the neon sign flashing above it: "Safe, Sound, Secure. You'll Like It Here." I smile at the irony of such a message appearing in a city like Las Vegas. Just beyond the sign, on the horizon in the far distance, I see the Strip with the tall Stratosphere tower reaching upward into the hazy summer sky. The famous skyline of the entertainment district on Las Vegas Blvd. is stretched out before me and I wonder about the winners and losers who are still sleeping away their deeds from the night before. Safe, sound, and secure.

This Starbucks has a fountain on the patio that's not running this morning. Perhaps it's too hot. What little breeze I feel upon my face feels like it's coming from a hair dryer. The heat surrounds me, covers me, engulfs me, and I wonder if bagels feel this way while baking. The patio is like an oven and those of us sitting out here are like loaves of bread. A business man wearing a suit has taken off his jacket revealing a starched white shirt so bright that it blinds me to look at him. Two women in shorts are having a spirited conversation and don't seem a bit worried about a potential heat stroke.

As for me and the sparrows? I'm listening to Joe Cocker on my iPod and the birds are staring at me, pleading with me with small dark eyes, to toss them more bagel crumbs. Cocker sings, "there's a time to reap/a time to sow/ for holdin' on/ for lettin' go/ sometimes doing what is right is lettin' go."

Home in Carmel Valley

2008-07-03T16:59:00.004-05:00

I've been channeling Jack Kerouac lately, and wondering how I ever decided to get off the road and settle down in Carmel Valley, a small rural community a couple of mountains over and a ten-mile drive from Carmel-by-the-Sea or just plain Carmel if you wish. I am home, I think. At least I'd like to think I'm home.

I spent 323 days or so living in motels and in casinos on comps and attending art festivals and blogging and takeing pictures. I guess I'm tired and have stopped traveling. I came to Carmel and the Monterey Peninsula a few days ago and just decided to stay. The ocean, the cool breezes, the nice people keep things in balance when you consider this area is among the most expensive places to live. I'm paying more for gas than rent.

I've opened a studio for a place to hang out and write, paint, draw, swat flies, and watch delivery trucks drop off fresh fruit to the market that sits beneath me. All is well, so far.

Current Location: Solvang, California

2008-06-11T16:09:00.006-05:00

Solvang is a nice hamlet, or should I say "gehucht." This Dutch community is growing on me. I'm seriously thinking about settling down here.

I'm staying at the Kronborg Inn, just west of downtown. The Kronborg is nice enough, but my room is located upstairs where access is a little difficult. I must climb stairs near the office, then walk through an enclosed balcony of sorts, before reaching an upstairs deck. Then it's a nice walk along the deck, making one turn down another path, before I can enter my room. The patio door leads to a small deck outside my room, and it actually would provide a shorter trip back to my car. But I'm a little afraid of leaving the patio door unlocked while I'm gone.

Ice? To get ice I walk out my patio door (leaving it unlocked, but at least I can see it from the vending area near the pool so I'm not too worried about it) and walk down the stairs near the office. Then I follow a trail along the swimming pool to a narrow path along a wall outside some lower level rooms. I take the narrow path for a short distance before arriving on the far side of the pool where the vending area and ice machine is located. I fill my ice bucket up and return the same way. I feel like a mouse, making my way through a maze to retrieve some cheese.

All of this traversing the paths and narrow walkways of the Kronborg is just another way of reminding me that living in motels can be a bitch sometimes.

Traveling Can Be Hard Work

2008-06-09T20:37:00.007-05:00

Well, let's see. I've been on the road now 300 days. That seems like a milestone to me--a nice even number. Though my original intention was to travel for a year, I may not make it that long. I want to settle down. Traveling is fun and I love it. I will always be a traveler. But having no homebase, no headquarters, nowhere to call "home" is tiresome.

Traveling is hard work.

I find myself today in the small hamlet of Solvang, just north of Santa Barbara, California. Solvang is a Dutch community founded in 1911. Back in those days the town's economy was based on farming, of course. Today, it's tourism. I've read that more than 2 million tourists a year come here to see the Dutch architecture, taste the Dutch pastries and food, and sample the wine that is abundant in these parts. Vineyards and orchards are everywhere. So wine-tasting is a major attraction. I'm being tempted to live here.

My writing schedule has been in a mess since I've been traveling. I have a number of projects I'd like to finish, or maybe start, but have been too busy seeing and experiencing places on the road. Most of my writing has been done on my travel blog at http://www.myroadart.com/.

However, time has probably come for me to leave the road for while, catch my breath, settle down, and do some serious writing. I need a home. I need a place I can retreat to once I leave the road. I need to make some money, too. I'm not a rich man.

Long Journey Update Me

2008-05-21T13:02:00.003-05:00

Current Location: Laughlin, Nevada.

Okay, so sue me. I've neglected this blog for weeks now. I've been reguarly hanging words on my site at 1100 Miles to Vegas (also known at "MyRoadArt.com"), but for whatever reason I've not done much writing here. In fact, I've been neglecting my writing schedule altogether.

At least today I've checked in. How's it going with you?

Spamalot and StarTrek

2008-04-10T10:41:00.002-05:00

Poorly Designed Logos

2008-03-13T14:01:00.003-05:00

Thanks Bert, for sending me these poorly designed company photos.

This and That...and Some Other Stuff

2008-03-11T15:37:00.007-05:00

I've spent the morning trying to figure out the hosting account at GoDaddy.com. I like their prices, but really, can someone tell me how you work your way through the confusing web hosting and email account instructions? I've been with GoDaddy for three years, maybe longer, and I'm still trying to figure things out.

I'm developing my web site at MitchellAiken.com, and this morning worked out the hosting and uploading of files. Over the next few weeks the site will begin to come together. I am choosing to design the site myself with Microsoft Frontpage, because I'm so cheap I don't want to pay for someone else to do it.

I'm going to try my best to make regular updates to my blogs: here at WriteFinger, at 1100 Miles to Vegas, and at Straight Talk from the 7 Seat. My travel writing will hopefully take off this year as I try to break into that business. I have found a couple of good books on travel writing and will work a plan to publish both online and in print.

I'm working on an outline for a novel, but it's slow going. I'm in no hurry. Novel writing takes time, and I'm learning as I go. The research and reading of background material is fun, but exhausting. My goal is to have a basic outline completed by the end of the summer.

The Seat from Hell

2008-03-03T11:27:00.007-06:00

I walked into the Surprise Stadium for an afternoon of baseball with my beloved Texas Rangers but soon found my seat was in Hell. I didn't realize Hell was a part of baseball, but then I remembered Roger Clemens' remarks before Congress a few days ago. His seat was in Hell, too.

I ordered my package of tickets online and had a fuzzy idea about my seat location. But I was soon disappointed. I found myself sitting next to Lucifer and his partner, Old Cranky Man. My tickets were inprinted with "Section 105, Row V, Seat 3." When I saw the seat, I almost cried. Lucifer and Old Cranky Man were on my right eating hotdogs in seats 1 and 2. On my left, of course, was the brick wall that stretched 20 feet into the air providing support for the floor above.

Was I destined to watch the Texas Rangers from a seat between a brick wall and two of Hell's biggest baseball fans?

I suppose I should explain the reason for referring to the two older gentlemen as Lucifer and Old Cranky Man. When I first pointed out my seat to them, they both looked at me with a "You can go to hell" expression on their faces. They were not Rangers fans, but were from Kansas City. They loved the Royals. Kansas City is Hell, so you can understand my monikers for these men.

But all was not hopeless. I met Kendra in the Box Office (Heaven) and she happily exchanged my tickets and found me better seats. Kendra saved me from the depths of Hell and showed me the Light. My new seats are located five rows back of the Rangers dugout, on the aisle.

Hallelujah.

Current Location: Scottsdale

2008-03-03T11:00:00.008-06:00

I'm still on the road, of course. Traveling around the Southwest has been great. I'm seeing places I've never seen, meeting people along the way who are having an impact on my life in ways I would have not considered possible.

Traveling will do this to you. You begin to feel your life taking on new dimensions, new shapes, a new form. One's experiences define life, serve as a way to discover who you are. I suppose that's why I love being on the road. It's an American romantic and mythical pursuit, reflected in our literature and culture. Most recently I saw this fundamental characteristic of our American ethos in the film by Sean Penn, Into the Wild. There is something uniquely American about being on the road and traveling west, seeking one's personal "manifest destiny".

I've been writing a lot, just not here. I hope that will change. My blog at 2Vegas.blgospot.com has been taking up most of time. I'm also writing each day in a personal journal, and working on a rough outline for a novel based in the Southwest.

As I travel and discover more about myself, I'm also discovering my life as a writer, artist, photographer, and poker player. I love playing cards, so I write about my experiences in various poker rooms at www.7seat.com. I'm passionate about art and photography and will be developing a website for those interests in the coming days. My travel blog will continue to grow as I stay on the road, too. Each day I find myself learning to draw with pen and ink, visiting art festivals and museums, writing about various things, playing cards in a local casino, taking photos, traveling about, meeting people and just experiencing life.

I've had to admit to myself that these are the things that define my life.

2008-01-30T09:46:00.000-06:00

OK, so I lied. I missed posting here yesterday. And I've only got a few minutes to check in. I'm currently reading the online version of Variety and see that Oliver Stone has funds now to film "Bush" with Josh Brolin. Supposedly an honest portrait, like his earlier film "Nixon", OS will undoubtedly make Bush look silly and heavily sedated. Will it make the theaters by election day?

I'm out.

Where the Hell is Mitch?

2008-01-28T23:27:00.000-06:00

Geez, it's been a while since I've posted here. I've been keeping my other blogs updated pretty well, but for some reason I find that I've neglected this one. What gives?

Anyway, I am committed to doing more writing here. I'm learning it takes time to keep blogs updated, especially since I have four blogs I'm trying to update--probably not a smart thing. I'm thinking I need to combine all my blogs into one. But that doesn't appeal to me, either.

My interest are in the areas of writing, poker, photography/art, and travel. Thus the four blogs. I guess I just need to be more disciplined and each day take the time to update each blog. My travel blog, my traveling journal while I'm on the road touring the Southwest, is usually the one I get to first. Then, if I have time, I will update my poker blog since I play a lot of poker. My photography/art blog and this writing blog have been neglected.

I hope this year to do much better. Having said that, I'll see you tomorrow...I promise. What will I be writing about? I have no idea.

Best New Fall Show: The Writer's Strike

2007-11-15T11:12:00.000-06:00

The Writer's Strike is perhaps the most entertaining show to come along in years. Ironically, as they refuse to write new material for the entertainment industry, each day the strike produces some of the best writing now available. They have cut out the middle-man-producer-media-conglomerate and are delivering some topnotch entertainment directly to the public via the press and the Internet.

Let me say up front I'm on their side. The enormous media conglomerates would love to continue to make billions of dollars on the backs of writers and do away with residuals all together when the Internet becomes the major platform for delivering movies and entertainment. So, the WGA had better dig in their heels now and do what they can to protect the future. I see their struggle utlimately paying off for writers yet to be born. I may some day become a member of the WGA myself, so I'm going to benefit from their hard work.

Having said that, the strike is very entertaining. After all, they are writers.

One writer really makes a good case for their strike in an online Newsweek article. The main issue remains to be the Internet becoming a major delivery system of media. Writers want and deserve their fair share of the money. Who can blame them?

Wanted: Working Title for New Novel

2007-11-13T23:42:00.000-06:00

Now that I've decided on a novel project, I need a working title. I suppose I could call it Southwest Novel Number 1. That seems appropriate and descriptive. For computer files and such I need to call it something.

I've yet to construct a suitable outline, though I do know the setting, time, and an idea of the main characters. The novel will concern the lives of three brothers living in New Mexico and Arizona during the 1860s, with the Civil War, Indian uprisings, the Overland Trail, and Catholic missions in the mix. I'm currently involved in the research phase, so the novel is a fuzzy image with few details.

I'll be tracking my progress here, so keep in touch. I'll post updates and be seeking suggestions along the way.

__________________________________

I can't think of a better time of year to start a writing project. The winter months lend themselves to indoor activities, although here in Tucson that's not the case. The winter months in Tucson are for the outdoors, with milder temperatures and little or no rain.

I'll be staying in the Tucson area for quite a while. I've much to do, researching the history of this area during the Civil War era. I've got the University of Arizona's library at my disposal.

2007-11-08T21:56:00.000-06:00

Thanks to Wil Wheaton for turning me toward Ficlets, a really fun place to play. Ficlets is a website that indugles in "collaborative short fiction." The brains behind the mayhem is John Scalzi.

The idea is this: you write a short fiction and post it to the site. Then others can read your work, comment on it, or if they choose, they can write a "prequal" or a "sequal" to your story. All kinds of various story lines can then develop as people add to your work.

Did I mention your story had to be short? You only get 1,024 characters.

On the site you can write prequels and sequels to stories from other writers, or just comment on their work. It's a lot of fun, actually.

I submitted my first "ficlet" tonight. Here's a glimpse of my first story:

"I trailed him to a bookstore in Tucson. He was wearing a sweater vest made of wool for some reason. He sat there looking like a statue, a cane resting between his legs like a third appendage hanging below his waist. He was reading a Time Magazine, the issue about the new iPod that Apple just released.

I did not care because I was sent to track him down and kill him."

To read the whole story, go here.

By the Time I Get to Tucson

2007-11-04T15:14:00.000-06:00

For the winter I think I'll live in Tucson. Why not? My only goal for the Winter of 2007 is to skip it. I want to stay warm. Tucson almost never gets cold, so I'm here to stay for a while.

I left Texas in a funk back in August and have not looked back. I spent 74 wonderful days in the Albuquerque and Santa Fe area of north central New Mexico, but when the night time temps began to fall into the sub-comfortable range I decided to head south.

My blog "1100 Miles to Vegas" has daily (or almost daily) updates of my trip across the Southwest.

While in Santa Fe I attended the Filmmakers Intensive open house at the College of Santa Fe. It's a new program for anyone interested in the film business, offering three tracks of study in screenwriting, directing, and producing. I'm looking at 2009 as a possible time frame to apply for the screenwriting track. Students spend nine months to a year learning from professional filmmakers on the College of Santa Fe campus.

The College of Santa Fe is evidently the only college in America that has a professional film studio attached to its campus, providing film students the opportunity to observe films being produced and shot in the Santa Fe area. Internships on various productions are possible as well.

The film industry in New Mexico has exploded, with numerous films and TV shows being filmed all around the state. New Mexico began in 2001 providing financial incentives to lure Hollywood film producers, and it's working.

Among the films being shot in New Mexico recently is Kevin Costner's Swing Vote. A new professional studio in Albuquerque, plus one being planned for Santa Fe, will see plenty of Hollywood business in the future. Russell Crowe's 3:10 to Yuma was filmed in New Mexico last year and the new Indiana Jones movie is coming to the state next year. In October, there were 19 movies being filmed around the state, and numerous commitments being made for 2008 and beyond.

Sandia National Lab to Close the Book on Books

2007-10-23T09:13:00.001-05:00

The Sandia National Laboratories Technical Library is having a minor crisis, and it’s not alone. All across the world, research and technical libraries are closing the books on real books.

With the Internet and technological innovation leading the way, libraries are turning their backs on books, tossing them aside for digital versions that are accessible online. The Sandia National Laboratories Technical Library announced this month that they are placing the content of their library entirely online, and closing the door on the thousands of volumes of real books housed in their library.

Researchers at the Lab are understandably upset. While they are using their desktops to supplement their research, many of the technicians like browsing the library shelves for resources and enjoy studying an actual text. Some of them hate the idea of not having access to a traditional “brick and mortar” library with hardcover books.

Much of the ballyhoo is a response to the Library Without Walls Project, which is an international movement to place research and technical materials online for easy access from researchers around the world. The basic idea seems to be, “Let’s put all of the content of our books and journals online so we can easily access them at home, or at our labs and offices, from anywhere in the world.”

This all sounds great and is inevitable. But here’s the rub: what happens to books and traditional libraries? Will the local library, college library, all libraries everywhere eventually close their doors? Is there any value in holding a real book in your hands? Do we need to spend millions of dollars storing hardcover books when we can digitize content and make it available to anyone anywhere?

I’m reminded of two television shows, both from the area of science fiction, that deal with this issue. Interestingly, both of these television shows occurred in the 1960s, when the Internet and desktop computers were infants in imagination and practice.

The first episode I recall first aired in late 1959, was from the series Twilight Zone and titled “Time Enough at Last”, and starred Burgess Meredith as a bank teller with poor eyesight. Mr. Henry Bemis wore these incredibly thick glasses. He loved books. He cared for them like children. And when an atomic bomb blast destroyed his city, he wept over the destruction of his beloved library. But the books survived. He carefully stacked them on the front steps of the library, which was a heap of crushed stone. He’s was thrilled to still have his books, with all the time in the world to read them. Then, tragically, at the end of the episode, he breaks his glasses. He’s now faced with a future surrounded by his beloved books, but he can’t read them. The last scene of him holding his books abreast in one hand, and his broken spectacles in the other, will always stay with me.

But I a love books.

The second episode comes from Star Trek. Titled “Court Martial” and first broadcast in 1967, the episode deals directly with the issue: the value of real books and human interaction versus the technological and digitization of content on computers. Captain Kirk is accused of a crime that ends in the death of a colleague, with evidence primarily being digital content on a computer. His attorney (played by Elisha Cook, Jr.), an old salt who loves books and hates technology, fights to save Kirk in court. His speech before the judge speaks directly to us: computers can lie. He passionately argues before the judge that computers and technology are destroying the reality of a world that was once real, a world with physical and emotional bonds that connect us as human beings. Computers are nothing more than circuit boards, chips, mechanical devices, bits and bytes of information that are not real, they are imitations of reality. The episode ends, naturally, with Captain Kirk acquitted after his pal Spock discovers the computer was intentionally reformatted and unreliable, and the person who supposedly died was in fact still alive and was behind the whole frame job. I’ll always remember the passionate speech of Kirk’s attorney (badly overacted I’ll admit), and the picture of him holding a stack of books in his hand as he delivered it.

So, the issue comes down to this: is there any value in a real book, a book with pages that you touch, smell, turn, spill coffee on, crease, bookmark. When I sit out by the pool, or snuggle up near a fireplace, or slumber in bed at night, or sit at Starbucks drinking a latte, and want to read a good book, I don’t want to, read a computer screen.

But I’m a lover of books.

I will always prefer holding print and ink in my hands. I will never give up the hope that books will remain, real books. And God help us the day that libraries around the world become a thing of the past, heaps of ruble destroyed not by an atomic bomb, but by man’s foolishness.

On the Road

2007-10-22T07:18:00.000-05:00

It seems like everything I read these days is dealing with "the road." Maybe it's because I left Texas a few weeks ago to travel the southwest, and the road has been my only companion.

Having stopped in Albuquerque for a month or so, I've been catching up on my reading. It turns out that most of the books deal with someone on "the road." Cormac McCarthy's post-apocalyptic tale "The Road" was one of the first novels I read while in ABQ. Then I read Hunter S. Thompson's novel of his Latin American adventures in "The Rum Diary." He laments that as he is getting older, being on the road and traveling around the universe is getting tiresome. Jack Kerouac's "On the Road" was published 50 years ago and is getting attention in the press, plus was reissued in a new edition to mark the anniversary. I became interested in Kerouac a few years ago and read everything I could get my hands on about him, including a book of his notes and drawings (more doodles, really, than drawings).

I left Texas with a desire to just go, somewhere, anywhere. I had a desire to travel the country and to write about my experience. I was at a time and place in my life where I had the opportunity to pack up the car and leave. So I did. I'm not sure there is any meaning to it, any reason for it, or any life-altering revelations to be discovered by it. I do think I will be different, though, once I settle down again.

The road has an allure, an attraction, a seductive quality for someone hungry to experience the unknown. I was starving for a change, a new world. After a lifetime of relative security, stability, and normalcy, I needed a mistress. The road is a jealous lover, and I can see it's going to be difficult to let her go.

For Jack Kerouac and others like him, the idea of staying in motion was vital to their sanity. Kerouac's survival as a writer depended on his westward journeys on the road, his passion to discover meaning in unknown places and people.

I'm beginning to discover the passion he felt for experiencing life on the road and it's a little unsettling. To read about my travels, visit my blog "1,100 Miles to Las Vegas" at http://2Vegas.blogspot.com.

"Finger of the Week": October 15, 2007

2007-10-14T20:43:00.000-05:00

"Finger of the Week": August 27, 2007

2007-08-30T16:29:00.001-05:00

2007-08-21T19:36:00.000-05:00

The dapper looking fellow on the right is Edward S. Curtis. I became reacquainted with him while I was researching the Pueblo culture in New Mexico. Having touched on his work while studying photography in college, I had forgotten about him.

I'm traveling across the Southwest on my way to Las Vegas, stopping to study and write about what I find along the way. My curiosity has always been peaked by the Old West and Southwestern life. Indians and the Puebloans are at the center of history here.

So when I stumbled upon Curtis I had to get to know him. His writings and photography were controversial when he published his work The American Indian, 1907 to 1930, as a limited edition. Curtis said his goal was to document "the old time Indian, his dress, his ceremonies, his life and manners." Some of his contemporaries questioned his methods, however, and many on the reservation doubted his sincerity.

A resurgence of interest in Curtis took place in the 1970s, and one can find a lot online about his life and work. I recently noticed an Edward S. Curtis 2007 Calendar at a bookstore, available with wonderful photographs of Indian life in the early years of the last century.

For more information and links visit my blog at Photographium.

Plug Me In

2007-08-21T12:59:00.000-05:00

I don't demand much. I'm not someone who needs a lot to be happy (thank God, because I don't have much). Anyway, I'm really bugged that so many coffee joints and bookstores offer me internet access but no electrical plugs.

Who's the genius that decided to offer laptop users a place to work, drink overpriced coffee, read overpriced books, yet not provide them a place to plug in?

I visited a Border's Bookstore yesterday that had two plugs in the entire sitting area of their cozy cafe. Nice chairs, tables, coffee, thousands of books, two plugs. This particular store's cafe was in the back, with tables and chairs arranged neatly to the side and back right. A small nook hidden in the far corner looked promising. As I looked for a place to sit among the many tables in the open area just in front of the coffee bar, laptop upon shoulder, I could find no plugs. Finally, in th back corner nook I found two plugs available, one behind an end table and one behind a chair.

Many Starbuck's Coffee shops are also plugless. One of my favorite places to write, read, and netbrowse is Starbucks. I have unlimited net access at all Starbucks (and Border's locations), so I'm either drinking coffee or reading a book, sometimes both, almost every day at their stores. Why are plugs so hard to come by?

I visited a Starbucks this morning that had two plugs. Nice chairs, plenty of tables, expensive coffee, two plugs. Two table lamps were plugged into one of the outlets forcing me to unplug them to use my laptop and printer. So now I'm in the dark. Starbucks, you can certainly do better.

I know what you're thinking: they don't want to pay a high electric bill. More plugs equals more users equals higher bill. Border's Bookstores and Starbucks Coffee shops make a huge profit by charging a small fortune for a cup of coffee and can afford a few cents of electricity. They offer internet access for a fee, which I gladly pay. I'm only suggesting they also offer enough plugs so we can actually get some work done.

Oops, my battery is just about dead. I've got to go.

"Finger of the Week": August 20, 2007

2007-08-20T19:06:00.000-05:00

Irene Hull, a Democratic supporter from Seattle, was keeping her fingers crossed on election day last year hoping to see the U.S. Senate and U.S. House come under Democratic control. With the Democratic party recently coming under attack for ineffective leadership after taking over Congress, I wonder if Ms. Hull's fingers are still crossed.

A recent Zogby poll (mid-July) gives the Democrat-controlled Congress a 15% approval rating. President Bush shouldn't smile too broadly, however, because his approval rating dropped another point to just 32%.

Journaling

2007-08-15T11:31:00.000-05:00

I've been writing a journal for years. However, my entries this year have been more frequent and lengthy. Other writing projects are on hold until I resettle in Nevada. On the road, I'm finding it difficult to work on future, speculative projects.

Writing for my blogs is enough work for now, as is my journaling. My journals are beginning to contain the kinds of things I've often desired to write about, but for some reason never took the effort to include. Characters, conversations, observances, and all kinds of things are being jumbled in among the self-analysis and confessions that resonate throughout my journal.

For example, I recently encountered a character one early morning in the front of a grocery store and made this entry in my journal:

"Next door to the coin laundry is a grocery store proudly named “Homeland”. The store reminded me of the Minyard’s I used to visit weekly on Preston Road in Dallas when living there with Boo. A community store, old and worn out from years of selling food to nearby home dwellers, and not exactly up to the standards of a modern Kroger or Tom Thumb.

On the way in I almost ran over an elderly man who was sweeping the front door entrance area.

“Excuse me sir,” I said while stepping over his broom. He said nothing but just looked up with a disgusted facial expression as if to tell me, “You idiot…can’t you see I’m trying to sweep here…get out of my way!”

I saw the old man again when I left the store—he was still sweeping and groaning about life. He spoke to another man who was leaving the store and I noticed a remarkable New York accent, like a character from a “Sopranos” episode.

How would I describe him? Hunched over, with stooping shoulders, head and neck stuck in a downward location, making him look upward in a squinting motion in order to see where to walk. He was at least in his mid 60s, maybe well over 70 years old. His white hair was receding from his head leaving a nice shiner on top and his clothes were too large for him.

On my way out, however, I didn’t say a word. He’s way too grumpy this early in the morning. I watched him clean and sweep for a moment. He used the broom like a sword, conquering the dirt and trash, stabbing at the gum stuck on the concrete. He violently, quickly, and with a bit of unrestrained enthusiasm hoisted the rubber mat laying in front of the store’s double glass doors and shook it out like it was a gentleman’s cloak."

My earlier journal entries from years ago never contained these kind of observances. My old journals were more about me, which was the problem. As I have matured, both as a person and a writer, I'm discovering that who I am is partially a result of the world in which I travel. My life is defined by my interactions and observations of the world around me. It should be no surprise that a deeply personal journal should contain observations of that world.

"Finger" of the Week: August 15

2007-08-15T11:05:00.001-05:00

Richard Strickler, assistant secretary of the Department of Labor and director of the Mine Safety and Health Administration speaks to reporters over the weekend concerning lost miners in the Crandall Canyon mine, Huntington, Utah.

He's discussing the miner's expected location, buried 1,500 feet below the ground, about four miles from the mine entrance. The six trapped miners were working as usual on Monday, August 6, when the collapse occurred.

As of today, the drilling continues and the families are remaining hopeful.

Patrick Stewart Going to Mars

2007-08-07T18:18:00.000-05:00

On August 4, NASA launched a Delta II Rocket carrying the Phoenix Mars Lander at Cape Canaveral Air Force Base. In less than 90 minutes, the spacecraft had left Earth’s orbit headed for the Red Planet. It will take about 10 months for the Phoenix to get there.

The Planetary Society provided part of the mission payload. A mini-DVD on the spacecraft contains personal greetings form space visionaries, plus 80 stories and articles by leading writers and scientists. A collection of Mars artwork and classic radio shows narrated by Patrick Stewart is also included.

Phoenix will land on the northern plains of Mars looking for evidence of past life.

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I came across a web site that generates pictures like the one's below. Go there and amuse yourself like I did.

NYT Online, Writer's Block, Randomness

2007-08-07T12:09:00.000-05:00

The New York Times will no longer charge readers for online access to its Op-Ed columnists and other content, says The New York Post. As a Times reader, I'm glad to know it. I've never paid for the service and always thought the Times would come around and offer free content online.

Times executives - including publisher Arthur Sulzberger Jr. - made the decision to end the subscription-only TimesSelect service but have yet to make an official announcement. Apparently an internal debate has been waging for months over ending the service. The timing of when TimesSelect will shut down hinges on resolving software issues associated with making the switch to a free service, sources say.

The Times took the controversial approach in 2005 by charging for access to well-known writers, including Maureen Dowd, Frank Rich and Thomas L. Friedman. Other online publications were abandoning subscriptions and relying on advertising. I'm not sure I like the intrusive advertising any better, but at least I can shut banner ads off or weed my way through the junk to find my news for the day.

Some of the paper's columnists have been complaining that the service limited their Web readership. Leave it to a bunch of columnists to state the obvious.

In July, The Post reported that insiders were lobbying to shut down the service. After two years, however, the move to do away with TimesSelect may have more to do with growth than grumbling inside the paper. The number of Web-only subscribers who pay $7.95 a month or $49.95 a year fell to just over 221,000 in June, down from more than 224,000 in April.

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Forcing the brain to be creative on demand never seems to work. It's like the brain is free to think of things when left alone. Writer's block is often the result of coercion: we hold a gun to our brain's head until something profound comes forth.

I often find it difficult to generate creative ideas or thoughts when I'm writing. What will I write about today? When you sit down to write for a few hours, your brain often will say, "Not so fast...I'm busy right now...get back to me later."

But a writer must write.

In a recent blog post, Bob Farley admits disappointment that ideas to be written come to him at times when he's not writing. Farley says, "I'm one of those who goes through the day and in places where I have no possibility of writing down or remembering what I'm thinking, I think about things that need written. Wonderful imaginary conversations between characters take place while I'm walking through the aisles at the grocery, waiting for the dogs to poop, or editing business stories for work...if those ideas and thoughts come to me almost regularly at those times, why can I not train them to come when I want them to?"

All writers face the problem. It's nothing new. The ideas, thoughts, imaginations, characters, voices, conversations, wonderful moments of life that need to be reflected upon are often forgotten with our next breath. We get a glimpse of something profound or thought-provoking and say to ourselves, "That's a great idea for a story." But then the thought vanishes into the netherworld.

So the writer has a problem. How do we schedule daily writing sessions when the ideas and thoughts we write about occur randomly, without warning or context, in the imagination of our day? Our brains are not on any schedule; creative thoughts are independent contractors.

How would a chef create a menu for his restaurant guests if the food arrived randomly, or not at all? How would a used car dealer make a living if he had no cars on the lot?

One thing I can do is take notes. I need to be aware when ideas come along that inspire the writer in me, and find some way to write them down before I lose them.

"Finger" of the Week: August 6

2007-08-06T10:13:00.000-05:00

French President Nicolas Sarkozy wins our Finger of the Week award for August 6. He lost his temper with two American news photographers covering his vacation Sunday, August 5, jumping onto their boat and scolding them loudly in French.

The confrontation came Sunday afternoon as Sarkozy and companions were headed for open water in a boat on Lake Winnipesaukee when he spotted Associated Press photographer Jim Cole and freelancer Vince DeWitt aboard Cole's boat, which was outside a buoy barrier monitored by the New Hampshire Marine Patrol.

"He was happy and smiling and he waved at the security people as he was coming out," Cole said of the president. "And then he noticed us taking pictures and his happy demeanor diminished immediately."

2007-08-05T21:40:00.000-05:00

I am 58% Addicted to Coffee

Evidently I'm 58% addicted to coffee...whatever that means. Click above and take the quiz yourself.

The Price of Coffee

2007-08-05T21:19:00.000-05:00

I'm sitting here in Starbucks wondering why they just went up on their prices. What's up with that? I now have to pay $1.73 for a cup of coffee, an increase of a nickel. Do they think money grows on trees? (Well, I guess money does grow on trees in a way, since money is made from reprocessed cotton denim fabric...but that's another story.)

I'm cheap. I admit it. I usually buy a cup of coffee for $1 from the local gas station and pour into my Starbucks cup so I can sit in here and look respectible. I don't want them to think I'm just in here for the internet access. However, on occasion, when I want to splurge, I'll actually buy their coffee. But now, I'm not so sure.

The manager tells me it's because the cost of growing and processing coffee has gone up, and the cost of milk and other things continue to go up, too. "We haven't raised prices in quite some time," he says with a straight face.

I wanted to tell him to use the extra money on a mop so they could clean up the men's room, but I decided to walk back to my table and drink the ice tea I bought across the street at the Taco Casa for 65 cents. Do you think I'm going to pay $2.11 for a glass of tea in a Starbucks cup?

The Thackerville Truck Stop

2007-08-05T20:42:00.000-05:00

The Thackerville Truck Stop is like one of those places everyone has visited while traveling, a gas station and restaurant hybrid with a parking lot the size of a football field. Welcome to America's oasis for the truck driver.

A gas station on steroids. That's the best way to describe these places. The Thackerville Truck Stop is located near the Winstar Casino, just across the Red River in southern Oklahoma. You can throw a beer can into Texas from the parking lot. The interstate highway system provides the TTS with plenty of business, and gamblers who have lost their house payment in the Winstar poker room need a place to buy an aspirin. A gaming station is even located on the far side of the property--kind of a casino-light--a white shack facility offering slot machines. I guess they figure the Winstar's hundreds of slots aren't enough to keep the senior citizens on the tour bus happy. Why not offer them a slot while their driver pumps gas?

I became familiar with the Thackerville Truck Stop because I needed a shower. What better place to practice healthy hygiene than a truck stop? I knew they had a shower. A truck stop must have a shower. Truck drivers need to clean themselves.

As I entered the bath area looking for the shower, one trucker was washing his grease-stained arms in the sink.

"I just cleaned out that old air filter. What a mess!" He was probably about to turn 60-years-old and I was thankful he was just washing his arms.

Whoever designs these facilities must have a sense of humor. The cafe area always has canary-yellow table tops. The display area containing the snack racks is never easy to navigate. At the Thackerville Truck Stop the display racks and cases are set up like a rat's maze, blocking the way as you attempt to find the restrooms. Some New York marketing wizard who designs America's truck stops has decided to forget the maxim that a straight line is the shortest route from point A to point B. "Let's see if we can force people to stumble over the powdered donuts on the way to the bathroom so we can increase our market share."

I'm thinking to myself, "If I go right, I must run past the soft drinks and beer, but then have to turn upstream past the Honey Bun rack. I then must hang a sharp left by the chips until I reach the back wall. By nightfall I need to find the bathroom."

Man verses Wild, an episode on the Discovery Channel, featuring a southern Oklahoma truck stop.

I have fond memories of truck stops. Growing up in Texas you know about such places. When traveling with the family, we always found a reason to stop and visit. Sure, we needed gas. But we also enjoyed looking at the truck stop gift offerings. Need a hat with a truck on it? How about a t-shirt with the phrase "Will swap wife for beer."? I also remember the truck stop having an enormous selection of clever gadgets for your car or truck. Although I have never used fuzzy felted dice, and don't know why you would hang them from your rear view mirror, they have them. Want to place your coffee cup on the head rest of your passenger-side car seat? No problem. You might also want to hide your car key in one of those magnetic black box gizmos, just in case you lose the car keys while playing the slot machines.

Worst Analogies Ever Written?

2007-08-02T17:02:00.000-05:00

(Thanks to Macarry at Scribd...)

Worst analogies ever written in a high school essay

* He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
Joseph Romm, Washington

* She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from screen doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again.
Rich Murphy, Fairfax Station

* The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
Russell Beland, Springfield

* McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty Bag filled with vegetable soup.
Paul Sabourin, Silver Spring

* From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and "Jeopardy" comes on at 7 p.m. instead of 7:30.
Roy Ashley, Washington

* Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.
Chuck Smith, Woodbridge

* Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center.
Russell Beland, Springfield

* Bob was as perplexed as a hacker who means to access T:flw.quid55328.com\aaakk/ch@ung but gets T:\flw.quidaaakk/ch@ung by mistake
Ken Krattenmaker, Landover Hills

* Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
Unknown

* He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
Jack Bross, Chevy Chase

* The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
Gary F. Hevel, Silver Spring

* Her date was pleasant enough, but she knew that if her life was a movie this guy would be buried in the credits as something like "Second Tall Man."
Russell Beland, Springfield

* Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
Jennifer Hart, Arlington

* The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.
Wayne Goode, Madison, Ala.

* They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth
Paul Kocak, Syracuse, N.Y.

* John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
Russell Beland, Springfield

* The thunder was ominous-sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.
Barbara Fetherolf, Alexandria

* His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free
Chuck Smith, Woodbridge

* The red brick wall was the color of a brick-red Crayola crayon.
Unknown

Based on an unoriginal article in the Washington Post.

A Tale of Two Wolfe's

2007-07-22T15:02:00.000-05:00

I've been reading a collection of short stories by Thomas Wolfe. This is the Wolfe born in Ashville, North Carolina in 1900 and published his first novel, Look Homeward, Angel, in 1929. He died a young man in 1938 leaving a trail of manuscripts and stories that have become literary masterpieces.

He is not to be confused with the current writer Tom Wolfe. This Wolfe was born in Richmond, Virginia in 1931. This Wolfe began his career as a journalist writing for the Washington Post and the New York Herald Tribune. He called his mixture of literary techniques and journalism a "new journalism" that experimented with various ways to tell a fact-based story. He may be best known for his novel Bonfire of the Vanities.

Thomas Wolfe attended Harvard, while Tom attended Yale. Thomas taught for time at New York University and later spent time traveling through Europe. Tom, however, spent ten years as a newspaper journalist, mostly as a general assignment reporter.

I'm now reading The Complete Short Stories of Thomas Wolfe (Francis E. Skipp, Ed., 1987). The compilation contains all of his published short story material. The stories are arranged by date, in the order in which they were published.

Having just finished a book on the friendship between U.S. Grant and William T. Sherman, I suppose the idea of reading two authors with the same name was intriguing to me. They certainly weren't friends, nor even knew each other. Tom Wolfe was only eight years old when the elder Thomas Wolfe died at the age of 38. But a pairing is a pairing, even if only by name. I also just purchased a book published in 2003 on the friendship between Winston Churchill and Theodore Roosevelt.

For whatever reason, I'm interested in juxtaposing two historical figures, or in the case of the Wolfes two authors, and discovering what I can about their relationships. I'm not sure I'll learn anything by placing Thomas and Tom side-by-side as I read their works, but I have a sneaking suspicion that something will emerge through their writings that will be simpatico.

2007-07-14T11:20:00.000-05:00

The sun has finally come out this morning. The rains have subsided for the time being. Starbucks is quiet, with a few onlookers at the food counter wondering what salad or overpriced sandwich they'll eat for lunch. I'm still trying to figure out the Starbucks appeal. It's a branding iron. The cattle must have their Guatemala Antigua blend.

I have an uneaten banana staring at me as if to say, "What are you waiting for? I'm here." My routine the past few weeks has been to visit the local grocery store for a banana and yogurt. Then I settle down at Starbucks for a few hours of reading, writing, and googling online. My banana knows I'll eventually get to her, but she's impatient. The yogurt has already served its purpose. Life does have its small pleasures.

I've been on CraigsList looking for writing jobs in the Las Vegas area. I found only one descent lead. Most of the posts are junk ads for web sites seeking content. For the most part I think it's waste of time. However, in the real estate area I have made contact with a few Las Vegas agents and local investors.

I finished the book Grant and Sherman by Charles Bracelen Flood. I was emotionally moved by the description of the two-day parade that celebrated the end of the war, the armies of the east and west, the coming together of Grant and Sherman at the reviewing stand. What a scene it must have been. Five weeks after Lincoln was assassinated, the parade was a celebration with 80,000 soldiers marching before a crowd that cheered, roared and cried for a group of men who saved the nation. I wish I had been there.

I love reading about the Civil War, the stories of men and their relationships with each other. I read earlier this month, for example, about Grant moving on Fort Donelson. The fort was deserted by most of the generals and many of the soldiers, leaving in command an old acquaintance of Grant, a fellow named Simon Bolivar Buckner. Buckner loaned Grant some money years before when Grant was penniless, getting off a boat in Manhattan. Now Buckner finds himself surrendering to "Unconditional Surrender" Grant at the fort after a couple of days of fighting in the rain and swamps of the Tennessee River. Grant walked with Buckner down to the dock to see him off, as Buckner was being sent back to Cairo as a prisoner of war. Grant pulled him aside and said, "…you are seperated from your people…perhaps you need some funds...my purse is at your disposal."

I also read the story of Voltaire P. Twombley, a soldier involved in the fight to capture the fort. Three flag bearers had fallen to musket rounds, and Twombley was not afraid to become the fourth. He hoisted the flag and ran along the side of his commander, Brigadier General Charles F. Smith, to take the slopes of the fort. A musket ball hit Twombley hard enough to knock him down, but being that it was shot from a far distance, it did no critical damage. Twombley won the Congressional Medal of Honor for his role in the battle. That name is a strange one, though.

Welcome to Writefinger

2007-06-26T08:05:00.000-05:00

Just a minute...I'll be right back.