On Vacation...

On vacation and back on Tuesday, so you've got Roxanne covering until then. Meantime, enjoy this picture of a moistened Keira Knightley.

You're welcome.

Chapter 85: Thoughts During a Vacation Rain Storm

Earlier today, while measuring my ark cubit by cubit, I was thinking about spring. There are lots of aspects to the season. Baseball, as usual, is toward the top. Love also, though I don't know that spring really has cornered the market on that. I've enjoyed snuggling down on a cold winter's night, summer romances, and fall... No, love pretty much sucks in the fall.

Anyway, spring brings with it a bucket load of change. But like most change, you don't really feel it until after the change has occurred. A couple weeks ago, it still felt wintry enough, with snow and chill and stomping of feet. But the tell-tale signs of spring were there if you looked.

For example, the sun has been still visible when I get out of work. This practically never happens during the winter. But just last week, some friends and I walked in sunlight to a relatively nearby pub for our first-ever post-work, pre-season softball team pep rally (basically, an excuse to get together for a couple pints with people who we'll be spending time with over the next few spring and summer months).

And St. Patrick's Day is nearly upon us, which is another sure sign of spring. St. Patrick's Day is that special day when a bunch of people decide to insult everyone of Irish heritage by claiming that since they've had five pints of Guinness they're actually Irish, despite the vowels and collection of Ys and Zs at that end their names. No, that just means you're drunk. And that's fine; I don't hold that against anyone. Most of the time.

As someone of Irish descent — who learned how American I am by going to school in Ireland for a semester of college — I find spring and St. Patrick's Day to be kinda special. Like I said earlier, it's a time of transition. I used to be a summer person. But at this point in my life, I like a good mudslide, a mild rainstorm (not like this windy crap that's tormenting me now), and a nice week off to try to relax.

For what it's worth, a portion of my relaxation will take place on Tuesday, when a buddy of mine and I head over to the Diamond Bar in Brooklyn to enjoy a night of mayhem with Zane Lamprey (which must be a madeup name), author of Three Sheets: Drinking Made Easy. So if anyone in the neighborhood feels like enjoying a little spring break adult style, feel free to join me. I'll be the guy with the leather trench coat and all-season beard.

What does that have to do with change? Well, I don't usually go out now that I'm the father of a pair of beautiful ankle biters. Especially without the wife. So this is a sign that the world is in transition. More certain than the destruction of the planet in 2012, I will be enjoying a pint on Tuesday night. Maybe even two. Can spring be far behind?

Chapter 77.1: Summertime, and the Living Is ...

We are closing in on the summer solstice. Last one to Stonehenge is a smelly druid!

I was a little surprised to discover that the moment of solstice -- that is, the exact minute at which the earth's axis is most oriented toward the sun (yet, ironically, the earth is farther away from the sun than it is during our winter, at least for those of us in the northern hemisphere) -- is at 11:59 GMT tonight. Seems like an odd time for it to occur, but I'm no solar scientist.

These days, summer isn't nearly as much fun as when I was a kid. Sure, the beers that I drink are legal, but that's not as much fun as when I was 17. And I haven't worked as a camp counselor for a loooong time now, so working outside with a couple built-in trips to a beach that I don't have to pay for is a thing of the past.

But it's still summer time, the best season of the year. Enjoy, everyone! And crack open a cold one for me.

Chapter 76.4: Cat Calls

I know that I shouldn't expect much of a cat, but our boy's been clammoring for the past 10 minutes for me to play with him. I've been trying to write (having already "enjoyed" cleaning the gutters; God, that stuff is disgusting!), and he keeps popping his mouth off, flicking his tail at my nose, and bopping his head under my chin.

Or maybe he's saying, if you let me out in the back yard on this lovely day, you can finish the last few pages of revisions to your novel in the porch you cleaned up. Wouldn't that be nice?

Maybe with a scotch.

Chapter 66.9: Close to 'The End'

I'm on vacation and taking a break from my novel, which is only about 30 pages away from "re-completion." I anticipate adding some more description in one of the last chapters; I was never pleased with it. But I believe that I'll have it done by dinner time tomorrow -- if not sooner. I've already started letting those few "early readers" know that they will be receiving copies soon. It's not quite like how I felt when I first typed "The End" a couple years ago, but I believe this time the book will be better than it was then. The next entry will acknowledge another goal reached!

Chapter 62.7: Taking a Day or Two

Life has been busy lately -- work, commuting, etc. So I have decided to take a couple days off. Of course, since I seem to have become a chronic workaholic, taking on projects that I barely have time to consider much less complete, I have things to do over these days. Here's to summer vacation!

Chapter 57: Progress Report

I was on vacation this past week. Nothing exotic. The living room table -- my wife's "branch office" as she likes to call it -- where my laptop lay waiting. I had two goals for the week: get a good head of steam on editing my novel, and run at least twenty miles. The running was relatively easy (as of Saturday -- with my long run still to come -- I've already got 19.2 miles under the waistband of my sweatpants). While I've not yet completed the edit (nor did I expect to in a week), so far I've gone through the first 280 or so pages of what was the second draft (of 350 pages) and culled it to about 230. At this point, I expect the third draft to weigh in at less than 300 pages. My wife's amazed. She might even read it this time!

Her inability to get past page 110 or so was actually quite helpful, as was the inability of one of my brothers to get that far. I figure I can expect about 50-60 pages from these folks out of love and family. But if they can't finish it, I can't expect anyone else to either -- especially an agent. The key is listening to my early readers and finding out why they couldn't get farther. It turns out that all the well-written character development didn't move the story along as well as I'd thought. So, much of it went bye-bye. Indeed, of the first four or five chapters, I retained two scenes, both used as backstory -- one of them much deeper in the book.

It's still not perfect. I had to add a scene, but as I was jogging yesterday I ruminated over the new scene. I'm not sure it works, and I'll need to re-read it. The two-year anniversary of my initial completion of the novel is just a little more than a week away. That is my goal: have the new edit done by that date. I won't need to take another vacation to do it, but I must say it's been one of the most satisfying vacations in my adult life.

Chapter 53.3: Bah Humbug!

No, that's too strong, 'cause it is my favorite holiday.

It is beginning to feel a smidgen like Christmas. Perhaps it's the chill in the air or the news that Santa got waylaid somewhere over Denver and had to stop his time bending trip preparations with a layover in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Or maybe it's because I saw a small flake flash before my wandering eyes this morning as I got out of the PATH train station. Maybe it wasn't snow. Maybe it was a piece of windblown crud.

Or maybe it's because I'm about to get my Christmas wish: a couple hours off from work -- well, a few days, actually. But with the travel to see my loved ones and rip open a few presents and toss back a few beers, it'll feel almost like work. Almost. I'll have Tuesday.

No, what I'm looking forward to doing is mapping out a week of winter vacation to do whatever I want to do. At home. Cooking breakfast for my wife after making her late to her office (which is just a room away). Jogging more than 20 miles in a week -- in sunlight. And working on the novel. If I can finish the revisions in a week, it could be the second best vacation of my life -- after the one where I proposed to my wife, of course. At least I'd have an idea of how much work is needed. Then I could use my train commute to sketch out the next book or evaluate literary agents. That's work too, but it's future-focused work.

I'm reading Book Doctor on the train this week, by Esther Cohen. Funny. Some wonderful scenes and playful characters. Not as good as Ward Just's An Unfinished Season, which I finished earlier this week, but it moves along at a comfortable pace. I find myself wishing I knew someone like Arlette Rosen, the lead character in Book Doctor, who devises clever exercises to help writers see their characters and the focus of their books more clearly. I know what I'm writing; making it compelling seems to be my battle.

So I need another vacation. That's what I'm asking Santa for Christmas. Oh yeah, and an iPod.

Chapter 51: Turkey Week

The Christmas commercials have begun, the temperature's been in the 60s recently, and the house is undergoing its annual makeover. That's right, it's Thanksgiving time again!

This year isn't any more special than previous years, but it'll be crowded. And not everyone will be in our tiny home in our tiny town. But the basement's ready for bumper pool and beer. If the weather holds up, we'll have a Turkey Bowl ("sponsored" by Bass Ale). And we've eaten enough food from Shop-Rite to qualify for the free frozen turkey.

I'm sure it'll all work out fine, but I'm almost looking forward to getting back to work in a week.