New posts from the writer of The Crotchety Old Man are now available at http://rupured.com/
Hope to see you there!
Friday, July 15, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
The End
In September of 2008, I stumbled across blogspot.com. Fifteen minutes later I created the Crotchety Old Man. Including this one, I've since written and posted 357 short essays.
From the start my blog had no purpose. There's no money in it for me from ads and I wasn't trying to sell anybody anything. I blogged entirely for fun.
At first concealing my real identity was a priority. I worried that freely expressing my opinions might cause problems at work. It hasn't, mostly because my coworkers are too busy to pay much attention to my rants.
Getting on Facebook in April of 2009 blew my anonymity. Yeah, it didn't have to. I could have kept blogging in secret. Well, maybe somebody else could--but not me.
The topics I write about have changed. Early posts were the kind of things you'd expect to hear from a crotchety old man. I haven't written a real crotchety rant for a long time. I'm just not that angry anymore.
Sometimes I write about my garden. On occasion I throw in things that are happening in my life. A lot of my recent posts revolve around Glass Houses, Addicted, and my journey toward becoming a "real" writer.
Writing for this blog has been fun. Unfortunately, writing for fun is no longer enough. My circumstances have changed. When one of my books gets published I'm going to need a blog to promote it, future books, and the author I hope to become.
Thanks for popping in over the last few years to see what I have to say and for your comments. Without your encouragement and support, Glass Houses would not have been written. I am eternally grateful and hope you'll still come around when I come up with a replacement for...
The Crotchety Old Man
From the start my blog had no purpose. There's no money in it for me from ads and I wasn't trying to sell anybody anything. I blogged entirely for fun.
At first concealing my real identity was a priority. I worried that freely expressing my opinions might cause problems at work. It hasn't, mostly because my coworkers are too busy to pay much attention to my rants.
Getting on Facebook in April of 2009 blew my anonymity. Yeah, it didn't have to. I could have kept blogging in secret. Well, maybe somebody else could--but not me.
The topics I write about have changed. Early posts were the kind of things you'd expect to hear from a crotchety old man. I haven't written a real crotchety rant for a long time. I'm just not that angry anymore.
Sometimes I write about my garden. On occasion I throw in things that are happening in my life. A lot of my recent posts revolve around Glass Houses, Addicted, and my journey toward becoming a "real" writer.
Writing for this blog has been fun. Unfortunately, writing for fun is no longer enough. My circumstances have changed. When one of my books gets published I'm going to need a blog to promote it, future books, and the author I hope to become.
Thanks for popping in over the last few years to see what I have to say and for your comments. Without your encouragement and support, Glass Houses would not have been written. I am eternally grateful and hope you'll still come around when I come up with a replacement for...
The Crotchety Old Man
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Adventures in Dieting, Week One
Today is weigh-in day after my first full week on Weight Watchers. The scale revealed I'm now four pounds closer to my goal than I was a week ago. That's eight pounds all together since I started trying to lose weight back in the middle of May.
My first week was a learning experience. You already know about the Memorial Day dinner that cost more points than my entire daily allotment. I also went over by eight points on Friday, mostly because I screwed up by using too many points for breakfast. Fortunately, the plan allows enough extra points in the week to cover these overages.
In the first week I earned a total of 93 activity points for six and a half hours of exercise. Activity points get wiped out at the end of every week. I had until midnight last night to use them. Although I was tempted to get a bucket of chicken, I ended up using just three of those points for a low-fat Quaker granola bar.
Today starts a new week. My daily allowance dropped from 46 points to 45. I have 49 extra points again this week and hopefully will not go through them the way I did last week. This morning I rode my bike for 75 minutes (15 miles) which earned me 20 activity points I don't intend to use either.
Losing four pounds in a week is twice what Weight Watchers recommends. I credit at least two of those four pounds to the huge increase in my activity level rather than the diet. I'm also guessing most people lose more weight in the first few weeks than in later weeks.
After a week I have to admit I'm pleasantly surprised. I certainly don't expect to lose four pounds every week. As long as I keep losing, you won't hear any complaints from...
The Crotchety Old Man
My first week was a learning experience. You already know about the Memorial Day dinner that cost more points than my entire daily allotment. I also went over by eight points on Friday, mostly because I screwed up by using too many points for breakfast. Fortunately, the plan allows enough extra points in the week to cover these overages.
In the first week I earned a total of 93 activity points for six and a half hours of exercise. Activity points get wiped out at the end of every week. I had until midnight last night to use them. Although I was tempted to get a bucket of chicken, I ended up using just three of those points for a low-fat Quaker granola bar.
Today starts a new week. My daily allowance dropped from 46 points to 45. I have 49 extra points again this week and hopefully will not go through them the way I did last week. This morning I rode my bike for 75 minutes (15 miles) which earned me 20 activity points I don't intend to use either.
Losing four pounds in a week is twice what Weight Watchers recommends. I credit at least two of those four pounds to the huge increase in my activity level rather than the diet. I'm also guessing most people lose more weight in the first few weeks than in later weeks.
After a week I have to admit I'm pleasantly surprised. I certainly don't expect to lose four pounds every week. As long as I keep losing, you won't hear any complaints from...
The Crotchety Old Man
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Back in the Saddle
I hate exercising. More precisely, I'm not a fan of getting hot and sweaty which rules out everything but swimming. Since I don't have a pool, swimming isn't terribly convenient. In truth it wouldn't matter because I'm not that great a swimmer.
Back in 2006 I decided to try bicycling. Noting the room full of unused exercise equipment I'd accumulated over the years, I went to Walmart and picked up a lovely red model for about $100. Honestly it was the nicest bike I'd ever had.
Before long I was riding eight to twelve miles a day. Yeah, I got hot and sweaty but didn't mind because I moved fast enough to generate a nice breeze. After a few months of riding, due to the steady stream of sweat hitting the gears and pedals, my red bicycle literally fell apart.
I took it to the cycle shop to see about repairs. They laughed at me and said the replacement parts cost more than the bike was worth. So I upgraded to a much nicer model and started riding twenty or thirty miles a day.
Two or three years ago I stopped. I'm not sure why. It was too cold or too hot or raining or something. My bike sat unused in the garage until last month when I dropped it off at the cycle shop for service. It's been back in three more times since then for minor repairs. Apparently a lack of activity is no better for bikes than for people.
Getting back in the saddle after a two or three year hiatus has been a challenge. Having spent the majority of time since I stopped riding on my ever-widening ass, I had to ease back in. Between all the repairs, the hot weather, and my schedule it's been a slow process.
Before when I was riding I got down 206 pounds--my lowest weight in years. Back then, the more I rode the more entitled I felt to eat fattening foods. Now that I'm on Weight Watchers and riding regularly, I'm hoping to see my weight fall below 200 pounds.
Today I made it all the way to Watkinsville and back. That's 24 miles in two hours. My legs are a little stiff and my butt hurts. The padding in those little bicycle shorts isn't nearly enough. A nice tractor seat would sure make biking more pleasant for...
The Crotchety Old Man
Back in 2006 I decided to try bicycling. Noting the room full of unused exercise equipment I'd accumulated over the years, I went to Walmart and picked up a lovely red model for about $100. Honestly it was the nicest bike I'd ever had.
Before long I was riding eight to twelve miles a day. Yeah, I got hot and sweaty but didn't mind because I moved fast enough to generate a nice breeze. After a few months of riding, due to the steady stream of sweat hitting the gears and pedals, my red bicycle literally fell apart.
I took it to the cycle shop to see about repairs. They laughed at me and said the replacement parts cost more than the bike was worth. So I upgraded to a much nicer model and started riding twenty or thirty miles a day.
Two or three years ago I stopped. I'm not sure why. It was too cold or too hot or raining or something. My bike sat unused in the garage until last month when I dropped it off at the cycle shop for service. It's been back in three more times since then for minor repairs. Apparently a lack of activity is no better for bikes than for people.
Getting back in the saddle after a two or three year hiatus has been a challenge. Having spent the majority of time since I stopped riding on my ever-widening ass, I had to ease back in. Between all the repairs, the hot weather, and my schedule it's been a slow process.
Before when I was riding I got down 206 pounds--my lowest weight in years. Back then, the more I rode the more entitled I felt to eat fattening foods. Now that I'm on Weight Watchers and riding regularly, I'm hoping to see my weight fall below 200 pounds.
Today I made it all the way to Watkinsville and back. That's 24 miles in two hours. My legs are a little stiff and my butt hurts. The padding in those little bicycle shorts isn't nearly enough. A nice tractor seat would sure make biking more pleasant for...
The Crotchety Old Man
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Adventures in Dieting, Day Two
As you probably know, I started on Weight Watchers Sunday. This week I'm allowed 46 points per day. I finished Day #1 with one point leftover. Skinny here I come!
Day #2 started off great. I rode my bike for 15 miles which earned me a whopping 17 extra points. I only used three points for breakfast, and got by on ten points for lunch. I felt so good about my progress I splurged, burning up ten points to eat two cake pops. To make cake pops you bake a box cake, mash it up with a can of icing, form the mix into little balls, then after freezing the balls, dip them in white chocolate. I'm telling you they're great.
Friends invited us over for dinner last night. Unaware of our dieting status, they went all out. We had steak, a delicious floret salad (broccoli, cauliflower, bacon, cheese and mayo), a carrot and horseradish casserole (more sour cream and mayo and maybe some heavy cream), a baked potato casserole (still more sour cream, bacon, cheese and butter), and a good old-fashioned banana pudding with meringue on top for dessert (along with a couple of cake pops).
After we got home my partner took the recipes and went online to figure out how many points we'd eaten. Because I had seconds of the floret salad and the baked potato casserole, my total for just that one meal was (drum roll please)...56 points. Yeah, ten more than my allowance for the day.
Talk about eye-opening. I got to thinking that before Sunday there have been lots of times when I probably had dinners worth a good 50 or 60 points--like maybe five nights out of seven. No wonder I'm obese!
So yesterday I burned a total of 87 points. Fortunately, Weight Watchers allows 49 extra points for the first week plus any points I earn for exercise. I still have eight of my 49 splurge points and 23 points I earned riding my bike.
Today has gone a lot better. I got by on four points for breakfast. At lunch I ordered my usual Zaxby salad, minus the fried onion rings and with lite vinaigrette instead of honey mustard dressing. I refuse to give up the Texas toast. The changes cut the salad from 23 to 14 points.
In terms of points, yesterday I learned an expensive lesson. Giving up would have been a failure. I didn't fail because I started over today, wiser than I was the day before. Failing to lose weight is no longer an option for...
The Crotchety Old Man
Day #2 started off great. I rode my bike for 15 miles which earned me a whopping 17 extra points. I only used three points for breakfast, and got by on ten points for lunch. I felt so good about my progress I splurged, burning up ten points to eat two cake pops. To make cake pops you bake a box cake, mash it up with a can of icing, form the mix into little balls, then after freezing the balls, dip them in white chocolate. I'm telling you they're great.
Friends invited us over for dinner last night. Unaware of our dieting status, they went all out. We had steak, a delicious floret salad (broccoli, cauliflower, bacon, cheese and mayo), a carrot and horseradish casserole (more sour cream and mayo and maybe some heavy cream), a baked potato casserole (still more sour cream, bacon, cheese and butter), and a good old-fashioned banana pudding with meringue on top for dessert (along with a couple of cake pops).
After we got home my partner took the recipes and went online to figure out how many points we'd eaten. Because I had seconds of the floret salad and the baked potato casserole, my total for just that one meal was (drum roll please)...56 points. Yeah, ten more than my allowance for the day.
Talk about eye-opening. I got to thinking that before Sunday there have been lots of times when I probably had dinners worth a good 50 or 60 points--like maybe five nights out of seven. No wonder I'm obese!
So yesterday I burned a total of 87 points. Fortunately, Weight Watchers allows 49 extra points for the first week plus any points I earn for exercise. I still have eight of my 49 splurge points and 23 points I earned riding my bike.
Today has gone a lot better. I got by on four points for breakfast. At lunch I ordered my usual Zaxby salad, minus the fried onion rings and with lite vinaigrette instead of honey mustard dressing. I refuse to give up the Texas toast. The changes cut the salad from 23 to 14 points.
In terms of points, yesterday I learned an expensive lesson. Giving up would have been a failure. I didn't fail because I started over today, wiser than I was the day before. Failing to lose weight is no longer an option for...
The Crotchety Old Man
Monday, May 30, 2011
Fat Man in the Bathtub with the Blues
My weight has bounced around since at least high school. Working at two different ice cream stores and a movie theater caused the first big uptick. These jobs were a doubly whammy on the old waistline because my activity level dropped at the same time my caloric intake went way up.
Due more to a shortage of guys than my talent or ability, I was recruited for several dancing roles in our high school's production of "Oklahoma!". Increasing my activity level helped me to get the weight off. I gained most of it back when I started college due largely to a dramatic increase in my consumption of pizza and burgers.
Coming out produced the next big drop. Going to Johnny Angel's six nights a week was good for my waistline in two ways. Dancing for a couple of hours pushed my activity level up. Low wages forced me to choose between going out and eating. In pictures from that era I look like a poster child for malnutrition.
Before moving to Georgia my activity level remained fairly high. I still went out dancing once or twice a week and spent most of every weekend working in the yard. Back then I bragged about being able to eat whatever I wanted. Bragging about anything is an invitation for Karma to intervene.
Here in Athens it's too damn hot to work in the yard other than for an hour or two early in the morning. Instead I spend the bulk of my time on my ever-widening ass watching television, chatting with friends on Facebook, and engaging in other equally strenuous activities.
High school reunions force me to action. In advance of our 30-year reunion five years ago, I started riding a bicycle. With our 35-year reunion just months away, I've started riding again. Only I fear I've waited too long to get the desired results by October.
According to the nasty Body Mass Index Calculator, I'm obese. Not just overweight. Obese. Karma can be a real bitch.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Yesterday I started Weight Watchers. In the past I've gone through phases of paying more attention to what I ate. But this is the first time I've ever gone on a real diet.
The Weight Watchers plan revolves around point values assigned to various foods. I can have a total of 46 points a day. I'm learning that many of my normal food choices eat up a significant portion of those points. The healthy salad I get from Zaxby's for lunch most days is a whopping 23 points (including two packets of honey mustard dressing and Texas Toast you can suck the butter out of).
Awareness is half the battle. Calculating the number of points (available as an app for my phone) forces me to pay a lot more attention. Paying more attention requires me to make better choices. Twenty weeks from now, I hope you'll see a much slimmer version of...
The Crotchety Old Man
Due more to a shortage of guys than my talent or ability, I was recruited for several dancing roles in our high school's production of "Oklahoma!". Increasing my activity level helped me to get the weight off. I gained most of it back when I started college due largely to a dramatic increase in my consumption of pizza and burgers.
Coming out produced the next big drop. Going to Johnny Angel's six nights a week was good for my waistline in two ways. Dancing for a couple of hours pushed my activity level up. Low wages forced me to choose between going out and eating. In pictures from that era I look like a poster child for malnutrition.
Before moving to Georgia my activity level remained fairly high. I still went out dancing once or twice a week and spent most of every weekend working in the yard. Back then I bragged about being able to eat whatever I wanted. Bragging about anything is an invitation for Karma to intervene.
Here in Athens it's too damn hot to work in the yard other than for an hour or two early in the morning. Instead I spend the bulk of my time on my ever-widening ass watching television, chatting with friends on Facebook, and engaging in other equally strenuous activities.
High school reunions force me to action. In advance of our 30-year reunion five years ago, I started riding a bicycle. With our 35-year reunion just months away, I've started riding again. Only I fear I've waited too long to get the desired results by October.
According to the nasty Body Mass Index Calculator, I'm obese. Not just overweight. Obese. Karma can be a real bitch.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Yesterday I started Weight Watchers. In the past I've gone through phases of paying more attention to what I ate. But this is the first time I've ever gone on a real diet.
The Weight Watchers plan revolves around point values assigned to various foods. I can have a total of 46 points a day. I'm learning that many of my normal food choices eat up a significant portion of those points. The healthy salad I get from Zaxby's for lunch most days is a whopping 23 points (including two packets of honey mustard dressing and Texas Toast you can suck the butter out of).
Awareness is half the battle. Calculating the number of points (available as an app for my phone) forces me to pay a lot more attention. Paying more attention requires me to make better choices. Twenty weeks from now, I hope you'll see a much slimmer version of...
The Crotchety Old Man
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Today in My Garden
Extremely dry weather this month has dramatically slowed progress in the garden. We finally got some rain Thursday night, along with severe winds. I had a lot of small branches down but no serious damage.
Day lilies are one of the big bloomers this week. I only have three kinds (yellow Stella D'Oro, solid orange, and yellow with a red throat), but because I keep dividing them have lots of each kind. Not sure where this one came from as it doesn't look a thing like any of the others.
Butterfly weed (Asclepias tuberosa) has become one of my favorite flowers. Heat and dry weather don't faze them, and the bright orange flowers last for weeks. I might have to try some of the cultivars that bloom in different colors.
It wouldn't be a southern garden without magnolias. The first few years I was lucky to get one or two blooms from the three-foot tall plant I bought. Now it's probably teen feet tall and blooms continuously for weeks. I love the lemony fresh fragrance.
Hopefully we'll get more rain in the next week or two. If not, we may face watering restrictions (again). Drought has become the new normal in the garden of...
The Crotchety Old Man
Day lilies are one of the big bloomers this week. I only have three kinds (yellow Stella D'Oro, solid orange, and yellow with a red throat), but because I keep dividing them have lots of each kind. Not sure where this one came from as it doesn't look a thing like any of the others.
Butterfly weed (Asclepias tuberosa) has become one of my favorite flowers. Heat and dry weather don't faze them, and the bright orange flowers last for weeks. I might have to try some of the cultivars that bloom in different colors.
It wouldn't be a southern garden without magnolias. The first few years I was lucky to get one or two blooms from the three-foot tall plant I bought. Now it's probably teen feet tall and blooms continuously for weeks. I love the lemony fresh fragrance.
Hopefully we'll get more rain in the next week or two. If not, we may face watering restrictions (again). Drought has become the new normal in the garden of...
The Crotchety Old Man
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Good News, Bad News
I've blogged before about the advanced macular degeneration in my left eye. The six weeks in-between treatments passes too quickly. Today I had my sixth appointment with the retina specialist.
My vision has deteriorated over the last three visits. Today my left eye couldn't even make out the letters on the top row of the eye chart. I was shocked and more than a little concerned.
Paralleling the deterioration in my eyesight, the retina scans I get every visit show my condition has worsened. Linda, the delightful "little girl" who does the scans showed me the images from today and my last two visits. Even my untrained, nearly-blind eyes could see the progression from bad to really bad. I knew I was about to get another shot in the eye.
The retina specialist explained that after an initial positive response, some patients stop responding to the Avastin injections. Apparently I'm one of those patients. A subset of these patients have success with injections of Lucentis. Hopefully I'm one of them.
Except for the one time I didn't have to have an injection, each visit to the
retina specialist costs about $2,000. Of that, $75 is the Avastin. Lucentis costs nearly $4,000 per dose. Like that's not bad enough, I'll need the treatment every four weeks instead of every six.
Thankfully I have good insurance. Still, I had to fill out a ton of paperwork, including an application for assistance from the Chronic Disease Foundation which will cut my $400 per injection copay in half. I have to send them a copy of last year's tax return, too.
Increasing the frequency of my visits is upsetting. But the idea of losing my vision upsets me even more. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the Lucentis treatments will work.
I've been asking my partner and others to either drop me off or pick me up from the appointments. I really hate putting people out, especially as often as the appointments roll around. Everyone I know works during the day.
Today I drove myself home from the appointment. I took scotch tape with me and taped two pairs of the freebie shades available from the office inside my giant, old man sunglasses. It worked well enough to get me from the doctor's office to the home of...
The Crotchety Old Man
My vision has deteriorated over the last three visits. Today my left eye couldn't even make out the letters on the top row of the eye chart. I was shocked and more than a little concerned.
Paralleling the deterioration in my eyesight, the retina scans I get every visit show my condition has worsened. Linda, the delightful "little girl" who does the scans showed me the images from today and my last two visits. Even my untrained, nearly-blind eyes could see the progression from bad to really bad. I knew I was about to get another shot in the eye.
The retina specialist explained that after an initial positive response, some patients stop responding to the Avastin injections. Apparently I'm one of those patients. A subset of these patients have success with injections of Lucentis. Hopefully I'm one of them.
Except for the one time I didn't have to have an injection, each visit to the
retina specialist costs about $2,000. Of that, $75 is the Avastin. Lucentis costs nearly $4,000 per dose. Like that's not bad enough, I'll need the treatment every four weeks instead of every six.
Thankfully I have good insurance. Still, I had to fill out a ton of paperwork, including an application for assistance from the Chronic Disease Foundation which will cut my $400 per injection copay in half. I have to send them a copy of last year's tax return, too.
Increasing the frequency of my visits is upsetting. But the idea of losing my vision upsets me even more. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the Lucentis treatments will work.
I've been asking my partner and others to either drop me off or pick me up from the appointments. I really hate putting people out, especially as often as the appointments roll around. Everyone I know works during the day.
Today I drove myself home from the appointment. I took scotch tape with me and taped two pairs of the freebie shades available from the office inside my giant, old man sunglasses. It worked well enough to get me from the doctor's office to the home of...
The Crotchety Old Man
Monday, May 23, 2011
My World & Welcome To It
Saturday the writer's group discussed the first 5000 words of Addicted, my first work of fiction. By and large the comments were positive. Especially considering it's my first attempt at fiction, I was very pleased. Since Saturday I've been working on revising the manuscript based on their feedback.
Except for me, everyone at this meeting was female. They said they needed to know more about what Josh (the main character) is thinking and feeling--especially during or immediately after the one sex scene they read. Adding his reaction to the situation never would have occurred to me and I'm grateful to the group for pointing out specific paragraphs where more insight is needed.
The group gave me a lot of minor edits and pointed out my tendency to go overboard describing action. They offered several specific suggestions to strengthen or tighten up specific scenes. To the best of my knowledge, all their suggestions have been incorporated in the revised draft.
The biggest criticism was that Josh comes across as more than a little whiny. I tried to show how devastated he was by the recent (bad) ending of his 17-year relationship. Since almost everyone felt the same way, I was forced to agree I'd probably gone too far. Again, I'm grateful for the input (and equally glad they didn't see the earlier versions where even I thought he was too whiny).
They also encouraged me to eliminate the first chapter. The purpose when I wrote it was to lay-out all the back story. Essentially it's written like my memoir, Glass Houses--all telling and no showing. Once I got past the first chapter I felt a lot more comfortable writing fiction. Tossing out the first chapter made sense. It took a lot of effort but I finally managed to incorporate all the important parts into the second chapter (now Chapter One) and cut the rest.
Some found Josh unlikable because of his behavior. He smokes pot like crazy to fill the void in his life since the break-up and in the opening chapters has a couple of drinks. The clincher for some was Josh driving while stoned and drunk. I'm sticking to my guns on this one but did go back and add more about his motivations for the behavior.
A few readers outside of the group have been upset about Josh having unprotected sex. Again, I'm not backing down. However I did add more about what he was thinking and feeling to cause his reckless behavior.
Addicted is a work of fiction. The characters and the story are made up. But the world where the characters live and in which the story takes place is real. The things that happen may not be pretty or moral or politically correct, but they reflect a certain reality. I know that reality is foreign to many potential readers, but once upon a time it was home to...
The Crotchety Old Man
Except for me, everyone at this meeting was female. They said they needed to know more about what Josh (the main character) is thinking and feeling--especially during or immediately after the one sex scene they read. Adding his reaction to the situation never would have occurred to me and I'm grateful to the group for pointing out specific paragraphs where more insight is needed.
The group gave me a lot of minor edits and pointed out my tendency to go overboard describing action. They offered several specific suggestions to strengthen or tighten up specific scenes. To the best of my knowledge, all their suggestions have been incorporated in the revised draft.
The biggest criticism was that Josh comes across as more than a little whiny. I tried to show how devastated he was by the recent (bad) ending of his 17-year relationship. Since almost everyone felt the same way, I was forced to agree I'd probably gone too far. Again, I'm grateful for the input (and equally glad they didn't see the earlier versions where even I thought he was too whiny).
They also encouraged me to eliminate the first chapter. The purpose when I wrote it was to lay-out all the back story. Essentially it's written like my memoir, Glass Houses--all telling and no showing. Once I got past the first chapter I felt a lot more comfortable writing fiction. Tossing out the first chapter made sense. It took a lot of effort but I finally managed to incorporate all the important parts into the second chapter (now Chapter One) and cut the rest.
Some found Josh unlikable because of his behavior. He smokes pot like crazy to fill the void in his life since the break-up and in the opening chapters has a couple of drinks. The clincher for some was Josh driving while stoned and drunk. I'm sticking to my guns on this one but did go back and add more about his motivations for the behavior.
A few readers outside of the group have been upset about Josh having unprotected sex. Again, I'm not backing down. However I did add more about what he was thinking and feeling to cause his reckless behavior.
Addicted is a work of fiction. The characters and the story are made up. But the world where the characters live and in which the story takes place is real. The things that happen may not be pretty or moral or politically correct, but they reflect a certain reality. I know that reality is foreign to many potential readers, but once upon a time it was home to...
The Crotchety Old Man
Friday, May 20, 2011
Ready for the Rapture
According to Harold Camping and his followers, the rapture will take place tomorrow with a ginormous earthquake. He cites his extensive research of the Bible and guarantees the date. He has since added the big event will occur at exactly 6:00 p.m., Eastern time.
Mr. Camping is a Christian radio broadcaster and President of Family Radio. Unlike the Westboro Baptist Church which is composed mostly of Reverend Phelp's family, Camping has followers across the United States and around the world. I searched but was unable to determine whether his followers number in the hundreds, thousands, or hundreds of thousands.
You don't have to be one of Camping's followers to be raptured. Good Christians and 144,000 Jews will apparently make the cut. Since I'm neither Jewish nor Christian, I'm absolutely certain I won't be among the elect.
I'm not upset. Having been excluded from all things Christian for most of the last thirty years, I'm used to being left out. I do, however, have some concerns.
How will I know which of my Facebook friends were among the elect? If the rapture occurs I'm sure several of them will go. If so, will they disappear from my list of friends?
Same for Twitter. I'm now following more than 1000 entities resulting in more than 150 followers who I'm sure read every Tweet. Will the elect vanish from Twitter, too?
I also worry about the impact of the rapture on my blog. I'm up to 33 followers, including several who never read it because I pissed them off a long time ago. Will the elect disappear from my list of followers?
Will the rapture cause a big drop in my blog stats? My numbers have dropped lately because I've been working on my second book, Addicted, instead of writing blog posts. A bigger fall-off in my numbers would make blogging feel like an even bigger waste of time than it already does.
What about my writer's group? We meet at 5:30 tomorrow. I submitted the first 5000 words of Addicted for review and discussion. I'll be totally pissed if at 6:01 the only person remaining is...
The Crotchety Old Man
Mr. Camping is a Christian radio broadcaster and President of Family Radio. Unlike the Westboro Baptist Church which is composed mostly of Reverend Phelp's family, Camping has followers across the United States and around the world. I searched but was unable to determine whether his followers number in the hundreds, thousands, or hundreds of thousands.
You don't have to be one of Camping's followers to be raptured. Good Christians and 144,000 Jews will apparently make the cut. Since I'm neither Jewish nor Christian, I'm absolutely certain I won't be among the elect.
I'm not upset. Having been excluded from all things Christian for most of the last thirty years, I'm used to being left out. I do, however, have some concerns.
How will I know which of my Facebook friends were among the elect? If the rapture occurs I'm sure several of them will go. If so, will they disappear from my list of friends?
Same for Twitter. I'm now following more than 1000 entities resulting in more than 150 followers who I'm sure read every Tweet. Will the elect vanish from Twitter, too?
I also worry about the impact of the rapture on my blog. I'm up to 33 followers, including several who never read it because I pissed them off a long time ago. Will the elect disappear from my list of followers?
Will the rapture cause a big drop in my blog stats? My numbers have dropped lately because I've been working on my second book, Addicted, instead of writing blog posts. A bigger fall-off in my numbers would make blogging feel like an even bigger waste of time than it already does.
What about my writer's group? We meet at 5:30 tomorrow. I submitted the first 5000 words of Addicted for review and discussion. I'll be totally pissed if at 6:01 the only person remaining is...
The Crotchety Old Man
Monday, May 16, 2011
Today in My Garden
I see a lot of people trying to take garden pictures on sunny days. Too much light washes out all the colors. Cool, cloudy weather today means it's a great day to take pictures in the garden.
Lollipop Lilies are the first of the lilies to bloom in my garden. They multiply like crazy and should probably be divided after blooming this year. We'll see if I remember!
My hydrangeas are doing great this year. Here is a close up of Forever Blue Hydrangea. With a little lime around the base of the plant the flowers would be almost purple.
This hydrangea is better than seven feet tall and at least as wide. I call it Big (Forever) Blue Hydrangea. Go Big Blue!
Something keeps eating the goldfish out of my half-whiskey barrel fountain. Yesterday I got six more goldfish and a Guard Owl. We'll see if it works.
Most the hollyhocks you see in gardens today look like the pompoms cheerleaders use. They seed everywhere and the offspring have reverted to singles. I like them better than the original plants.
And that's what you'd see today if you were walking through the garden of...
The Crotchety Old Man
Lollipop Lilies are the first of the lilies to bloom in my garden. They multiply like crazy and should probably be divided after blooming this year. We'll see if I remember!
My hydrangeas are doing great this year. Here is a close up of Forever Blue Hydrangea. With a little lime around the base of the plant the flowers would be almost purple.
This hydrangea is better than seven feet tall and at least as wide. I call it Big (Forever) Blue Hydrangea. Go Big Blue!
Something keeps eating the goldfish out of my half-whiskey barrel fountain. Yesterday I got six more goldfish and a Guard Owl. We'll see if it works.
Most the hollyhocks you see in gardens today look like the pompoms cheerleaders use. They seed everywhere and the offspring have reverted to singles. I like them better than the original plants.
And that's what you'd see today if you were walking through the garden of...
The Crotchety Old Man
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Six Sentences Sunday
The following is my second excerpt for Six Sentences Sunday from my work in progress, Addicted. After meeting friends for cocktails, Josh Freeman has a little too much to drink. Sexy Michael DeLuca volunteers to walk him home.
Inside the apartment things get too hot to share here on...
The Crotchety Old Man
Inside the apartment the pair embraced again. Josh untucked the t-shirt from Michael’s jeans, pulled it over his head, and ran his hands over the furry, muscular chest he had uncovered. Michael yanked Josh’s shirt over his head in a swift motion, kissing him thoroughly while he, too explored Josh’s naked chest with his hands.
Josh moaned, caressing the muscular arms and tracing his fingers down Michael’s spine as the two kissed like teenagers at a drive-in movie. Pulling away, Josh looked Michael in the eye and saw lust equal to his own. Taking Michael by the hand, he led him through the apartment to the bed.
Inside the apartment things get too hot to share here on...
The Crotchety Old Man
Saturday, May 14, 2011
On Becoming a Writer
Nearly a year ago I started writing my first book. It was a memoir because the only thing I knew was to write about what I know. I finished Glass Houses in a matter of months and after submitting the manuscript to the agent of my dreams, less than two weeks later received a rejection.
After receiving the rejection I joined a local writer's group. We meet twice a month. I've been going to the meetings since March and have really learned a lot from the other writers. I submitted Glass Houses to a publisher and am waiting to hear back from them.
Because of what I learned from the group I started writing my first work of fiction. I'm still writing what I know, which means my book revolves around gay characters. One of the people in my group invited me into a couple of Facebook groups; one for writers of male/male romances and the other for people who write erotic romance novels I'd describe as kinky.
Since joining these various groups I've been reading a lot of blogs, excerpts, and posts on Facebook written by other writers. It's been a real education. I had no idea the market for erotic romances about other than traditional male/female couples was so vast.
I had to leave the group for kinky writers. Frankly, much of the discussion either freaked me out or gave me the creeps. Whatever floats your boat and to each his own but swinging, group sex, and kinky scenes are just not for me.
I don't think I'm a male-male romance writer, either. Many of the writers in this group seem obsessed with gay sex. The irony is that most are women, including many married women.
My manuscripts do contain gay sex scenes. However, the stories are not about sex. I write about people who happen to be gay and sometimes have sexual encounters. In every case the sex scene is supposed to show something about the main character.
The biggest surprise is the quality of much of the writing I see from published authors. I'm not talking about a typo here and there--we all make mistakes. Many of the errors are just sloppy or careless while others reflect a limited knowledge of grammar I had to learn in middle school. Some of it is just awful.
For better or worse, exposure to all these different writers has helped me to see what I've always known. I was born to write. It may not happen next week, or next, month, or even next year--but one day you'll be able to buy a book written by...
The Crotchety Old Man
After receiving the rejection I joined a local writer's group. We meet twice a month. I've been going to the meetings since March and have really learned a lot from the other writers. I submitted Glass Houses to a publisher and am waiting to hear back from them.
Because of what I learned from the group I started writing my first work of fiction. I'm still writing what I know, which means my book revolves around gay characters. One of the people in my group invited me into a couple of Facebook groups; one for writers of male/male romances and the other for people who write erotic romance novels I'd describe as kinky.
Since joining these various groups I've been reading a lot of blogs, excerpts, and posts on Facebook written by other writers. It's been a real education. I had no idea the market for erotic romances about other than traditional male/female couples was so vast.
I had to leave the group for kinky writers. Frankly, much of the discussion either freaked me out or gave me the creeps. Whatever floats your boat and to each his own but swinging, group sex, and kinky scenes are just not for me.
I don't think I'm a male-male romance writer, either. Many of the writers in this group seem obsessed with gay sex. The irony is that most are women, including many married women.
My manuscripts do contain gay sex scenes. However, the stories are not about sex. I write about people who happen to be gay and sometimes have sexual encounters. In every case the sex scene is supposed to show something about the main character.
The biggest surprise is the quality of much of the writing I see from published authors. I'm not talking about a typo here and there--we all make mistakes. Many of the errors are just sloppy or careless while others reflect a limited knowledge of grammar I had to learn in middle school. Some of it is just awful.
For better or worse, exposure to all these different writers has helped me to see what I've always known. I was born to write. It may not happen next week, or next, month, or even next year--but one day you'll be able to buy a book written by...
The Crotchety Old Man
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Today in My Garden
The calendar may not say so but summer has definitely arrived here in Athens. Highs this week in the 90s will likely mean the demise of pansies, violas and other winter-blooming annuals. Daffodils and other spring bulbs have already gone dormant for the summer.
Hydrangeas like this "Forever Blue" are just coming in to bloom. I bought one a year or two after I moved in. A vase full of blooms sprouted roots so now I have several.
Because weeding it became a full time job, I put Preen in the butterfly garden which will likely mean an end to the larkspur, silene, and California poppies seen here. The Stella D'oro Daylilies are just starting to bloom. The silver stalk is Lamb's ear.
My neighbor gave me a bunch of red hot pokers two years ago. They've done really well and are now approaching full bloom. You can also see a hollyhock approaching bloom and a groundcover rose I'm sorry I bought because it wants to sprawl all over the garden with 12-foot long thorny stems.
Lilies are budding up all over the garden. Normally the deer eat the flower buds. Thanks to Deer-Off, this will be the best year yet for lilies. When they start blooming, you can count on seeing a few pictures right here on...
The Crotchety Old Man
Hydrangeas like this "Forever Blue" are just coming in to bloom. I bought one a year or two after I moved in. A vase full of blooms sprouted roots so now I have several.
Because weeding it became a full time job, I put Preen in the butterfly garden which will likely mean an end to the larkspur, silene, and California poppies seen here. The Stella D'oro Daylilies are just starting to bloom. The silver stalk is Lamb's ear.
My neighbor gave me a bunch of red hot pokers two years ago. They've done really well and are now approaching full bloom. You can also see a hollyhock approaching bloom and a groundcover rose I'm sorry I bought because it wants to sprawl all over the garden with 12-foot long thorny stems.
Lilies are budding up all over the garden. Normally the deer eat the flower buds. Thanks to Deer-Off, this will be the best year yet for lilies. When they start blooming, you can count on seeing a few pictures right here on...
The Crotchety Old Man
Sunday, May 8, 2011
The Verdict
Yesterday the Athens Writer's group met. Since we meet on the first and third Saturdays of each month, everyone had three weeks to prepare. At long last, Glass Houses made it to the agenda for discussion.
To my surprise and delight, the feedback was overwhelmingly positive. The group really liked the story and offered some very constructive criticism. As anyone who has read the manuscript knows, they also felt like they really got to know me.
One of the bigger problems they pointed out I've heard many times before. Except for my family, readers have trouble keeping up with all the people. The group suggested cutting out and/or combining some of the less important characters. It's a great idea that would be a lot easier if they weren't real people who played significant roles in my life.
The group also pointed out specific problems; some I knew about, others were new to me. What I considered to be foreshadowing sometimes went too far. There are also lots of times when I confuse the reader bouncing back and forth between a specific occasion and what was typical for that occasion in other years. I get what they're saying and agree.
I also tend to treat minor and significant events the same. This equal treatment makes the turning point of the book (my discussion with Aunt Judy) fade into the background rather than stand out as the pivotal moment it was. They would like to see me spend more time writing about my feelings and reactions to some of the most important events--especially coming out. Again, I completely agree.
The final recommendation was to submit the manuscript 5000 words at a time for discussion by the group to enable more specific suggestions for how to resolve these issues. At two meetings per month, it would take eleven months to get through the 110,000 word manuscript. Everyone agreed spending the time would help me turn a good read into a great read.
Again, I agree. However, I'm reluctant to follow this advice because Glass Houses is currently being considered by a publisher. Given the publisher's promise to have at least two editors review every manuscript, I remain optimistic about my chances of getting a contract.
Until I hear back from the publisher, I'm not doing anything with Glass Houses. If accepted for publication, the publisher will have their own suggestions for edits that may or may not align with suggestions from the group. If that were to happen I'd feel like very busy people had wasted time they could have spent on their own manuscripts.
The bottom line is that my time for writing is limited. Unless and until something changes (i.e., I get a rejection or a contract), mentally I'm done with Glass Houses. I'd rather spend my writing time working on the next manuscript, including sending it to the group 5000 words at a time. It's a gamble, but one I'm willing to take. Besides, taking big risks is nothing new for...
The Crotchety Old Man
To my surprise and delight, the feedback was overwhelmingly positive. The group really liked the story and offered some very constructive criticism. As anyone who has read the manuscript knows, they also felt like they really got to know me.
One of the bigger problems they pointed out I've heard many times before. Except for my family, readers have trouble keeping up with all the people. The group suggested cutting out and/or combining some of the less important characters. It's a great idea that would be a lot easier if they weren't real people who played significant roles in my life.
The group also pointed out specific problems; some I knew about, others were new to me. What I considered to be foreshadowing sometimes went too far. There are also lots of times when I confuse the reader bouncing back and forth between a specific occasion and what was typical for that occasion in other years. I get what they're saying and agree.
I also tend to treat minor and significant events the same. This equal treatment makes the turning point of the book (my discussion with Aunt Judy) fade into the background rather than stand out as the pivotal moment it was. They would like to see me spend more time writing about my feelings and reactions to some of the most important events--especially coming out. Again, I completely agree.
The final recommendation was to submit the manuscript 5000 words at a time for discussion by the group to enable more specific suggestions for how to resolve these issues. At two meetings per month, it would take eleven months to get through the 110,000 word manuscript. Everyone agreed spending the time would help me turn a good read into a great read.
Again, I agree. However, I'm reluctant to follow this advice because Glass Houses is currently being considered by a publisher. Given the publisher's promise to have at least two editors review every manuscript, I remain optimistic about my chances of getting a contract.
Until I hear back from the publisher, I'm not doing anything with Glass Houses. If accepted for publication, the publisher will have their own suggestions for edits that may or may not align with suggestions from the group. If that were to happen I'd feel like very busy people had wasted time they could have spent on their own manuscripts.
The bottom line is that my time for writing is limited. Unless and until something changes (i.e., I get a rejection or a contract), mentally I'm done with Glass Houses. I'd rather spend my writing time working on the next manuscript, including sending it to the group 5000 words at a time. It's a gamble, but one I'm willing to take. Besides, taking big risks is nothing new for...
The Crotchety Old Man
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Who's Side Are You On?
I'm not optimistic about the future of our country. Never mind what passes for politics. I'm more concerned with the breakdown of civil society.
When I was in college if a police officer stopped me for any reason, my response was to be as polite and respectful as possible. Anything else was asking for trouble I didn't want. Yes sir, no sir, thank you very much sir.
To see how much things have changed in the last thirty years, check out Campus PD. Or maybe just watch your local news. The standard now is to become as belligerent and uncooperative as possible.
If cussing at the police doesn't work, go ahead and hit them. Make sure you have a friend with a cell phone nearby to record the incident. You could be the next Rodney King.
Last week the Atlanta cops were in the news for hitting a woman in a restaurant. Never mind that she was uncooperative and combative and that she hit the officer first. The assumption was that the cop was out of line.
A couple of weeks ago one of the blogs I follow posted a video of two women beating up a transgendered individual at a McDonald's in Maryland. Instead of breaking up the fight, the employees egged on the thuggish girls as they kicked the victim in the head. Toward the end of the clip, as the victim is having a seizure, the employees warn the women to leave because the police were coming.
Somewhere along the way police officers got an undeserved bad reputation. The police are not the enemy. They get paid near-poverty wages to protect us from criminals. I'm not saying they are all saints, but there are many more good cops than bad cops.
The ghetto-rati claim the cops are racist, even when significant portions of practically every police force in the country are minorities. Racism isn't the problem. The issue is a flagrant disregard for authority and the idea that it's OK to assault another person or take property that doesn't belong to you.
Don't break the law and you won't have run-ins with police. It's just that simple. And if you do for some reason get stopped by a police officer, show some respect.
The Crotchety Old Man
When I was in college if a police officer stopped me for any reason, my response was to be as polite and respectful as possible. Anything else was asking for trouble I didn't want. Yes sir, no sir, thank you very much sir.
To see how much things have changed in the last thirty years, check out Campus PD. Or maybe just watch your local news. The standard now is to become as belligerent and uncooperative as possible.
If cussing at the police doesn't work, go ahead and hit them. Make sure you have a friend with a cell phone nearby to record the incident. You could be the next Rodney King.
Last week the Atlanta cops were in the news for hitting a woman in a restaurant. Never mind that she was uncooperative and combative and that she hit the officer first. The assumption was that the cop was out of line.
A couple of weeks ago one of the blogs I follow posted a video of two women beating up a transgendered individual at a McDonald's in Maryland. Instead of breaking up the fight, the employees egged on the thuggish girls as they kicked the victim in the head. Toward the end of the clip, as the victim is having a seizure, the employees warn the women to leave because the police were coming.
Somewhere along the way police officers got an undeserved bad reputation. The police are not the enemy. They get paid near-poverty wages to protect us from criminals. I'm not saying they are all saints, but there are many more good cops than bad cops.
The ghetto-rati claim the cops are racist, even when significant portions of practically every police force in the country are minorities. Racism isn't the problem. The issue is a flagrant disregard for authority and the idea that it's OK to assault another person or take property that doesn't belong to you.
Don't break the law and you won't have run-ins with police. It's just that simple. And if you do for some reason get stopped by a police officer, show some respect.
The Crotchety Old Man
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Another Epiphany
Writing Addicted continues to be a lot of fun. I've written about 13,000 words in twelve chapters. Even I'm surprised by the direction the story has taken.
Addicted is the story of Josh Freeman, a 39 year-old gay man who finds himself suddenly single after a twelve year relationship ends. Josh assumes his life is over and that he'll never know love again. The three sex scenes in the first 13,000 words are not gratuitous--they serve a purpose in advancing the story.
Earlier this week I shared the first ten chapters with two of my most trusted straight female friends. I warned them about the sex scenes and worried they might be offended by the graphic content. I've been on pins and needles waiting to hear back from them.
They e-mailed me today with their reviews. They love it. In fact, though both are big fans of Glass Houses, they say Addicted is much better. One admitted to a blush or two and said she might never read Danielle Steele again. You could have knocked me over with a feather!
Upon further investigation, turns out that something like ninety percent of the people who read male/male romances are straight women! I had no idea. I figured the only people with any interest in reading gay romances were gay men.
If I'd have thought about it for even five minutes I could have figured it out. Gay men don't read romances--they watch porn on the Internet. Straight men don't read gay romances either, and until their wives find out also watch porn online. I don't see lesbians panting over male/male romances either. Straight women are the only group left.
I mentioned a few posts ago that Adrienne Wilder, future New York Times bestseller, invited me to join a Facebook group for people who write male/male romances. Very few members of the group are men. The majority of members are women.
When it comes to sex scenes in gay romance novels, I can ALWAYS tell if it was written by a woman. The good ones get 99.9 percent right...enough to fool the straight women who read this stuff. But to perhaps most men and any gay man, that .1 percent gives them away every time.
After sharing the reviews I received from my friends with her, Adrienne told me male writers of male/male romances are in high demand. In fact, many of the women who write in the genre use male pseudonyms and otherwise try to mask their gender. Nice to know the advantage goes to...
The Crotchety Old Man
Addicted is the story of Josh Freeman, a 39 year-old gay man who finds himself suddenly single after a twelve year relationship ends. Josh assumes his life is over and that he'll never know love again. The three sex scenes in the first 13,000 words are not gratuitous--they serve a purpose in advancing the story.
Earlier this week I shared the first ten chapters with two of my most trusted straight female friends. I warned them about the sex scenes and worried they might be offended by the graphic content. I've been on pins and needles waiting to hear back from them.
They e-mailed me today with their reviews. They love it. In fact, though both are big fans of Glass Houses, they say Addicted is much better. One admitted to a blush or two and said she might never read Danielle Steele again. You could have knocked me over with a feather!
Upon further investigation, turns out that something like ninety percent of the people who read male/male romances are straight women! I had no idea. I figured the only people with any interest in reading gay romances were gay men.
If I'd have thought about it for even five minutes I could have figured it out. Gay men don't read romances--they watch porn on the Internet. Straight men don't read gay romances either, and until their wives find out also watch porn online. I don't see lesbians panting over male/male romances either. Straight women are the only group left.
I mentioned a few posts ago that Adrienne Wilder, future New York Times bestseller, invited me to join a Facebook group for people who write male/male romances. Very few members of the group are men. The majority of members are women.
When it comes to sex scenes in gay romance novels, I can ALWAYS tell if it was written by a woman. The good ones get 99.9 percent right...enough to fool the straight women who read this stuff. But to perhaps most men and any gay man, that .1 percent gives them away every time.
After sharing the reviews I received from my friends with her, Adrienne told me male writers of male/male romances are in high demand. In fact, many of the women who write in the genre use male pseudonyms and otherwise try to mask their gender. Nice to know the advantage goes to...
The Crotchety Old Man
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Six Sentences Sunday
Every Sunday various writers from the Naughty Romance Writers Facebook group post six sentences from a work in progress. I searched through Glass Houses last week and couldn't find six sentences to share. The problem was finding six sentences to make the reader interested in reading more.
This is my first stab at Six Sentences Sunday. The excerpt comes from Addicted, my new work in progress, about 39 year-old Josh Freeman who, after splitting with his partner of twelve years feels like he's over the hill and his life is over.
After a hard day moving into his new big city apartment more than 500 miles away from his ex, Josh calls one of the many massage ads featured in the Washington Blade for something to sooth his aching muscles. The scene picks up after a surprising massage:
And that's six sentences from the first work of fiction from...
The Crotchety Old Man
This is my first stab at Six Sentences Sunday. The excerpt comes from Addicted, my new work in progress, about 39 year-old Josh Freeman who, after splitting with his partner of twelve years feels like he's over the hill and his life is over.
After a hard day moving into his new big city apartment more than 500 miles away from his ex, Josh calls one of the many massage ads featured in the Washington Blade for something to sooth his aching muscles. The scene picks up after a surprising massage:
Josh thought about what had just happened. He couldn’t believe he had paid for sex. Getting an anonymous blow job in a bookstore was one thing. Paying for sex was in an entirely different category. In truth, he hadn’t really paid for sex. He paid for a massage—the blow job was not part of the deal.
And that's six sentences from the first work of fiction from...
The Crotchety Old Man
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Myth Buster
I just finished knocking out another chapter for my new book, Addicted. When I sit down to write my goal is to get through at least one chapter. Today's chapter was number ten.
Writing Glass Houses only took me four months. Since it's a true story, all I had to do was write down what happened. The problem was deciding what to include and what to leave out. Mostly I included everything.
By comparison, writing Addicted is a little more challenging and a lot more fun. I sit down to write with only a vague idea of the purpose of the chapter. Somehow, the chapter comes together--usually taking off in an unexpected direction.
Even when I have more time, ending a chapter usually forces me to stop writing. I have to let what I've written float around in my head for a while. The challenge is figuring out how to start the next chapter.
Sleeping on it helps. By the time I start writing again, I still have no idea where I'm going but know where the chapter needs to start. Some chapters come out easier than others, but eventually, I get to where I'm supposed to be.
Believe it or not, I still have no idea where the story is going. I'm not worried. The story is somewhere inside of me waiting to be told. All I have to do is keep writing and it will come out.
Before I started writing I thought you had to know the whole story before you started. That little misperception kept me from even trying to write for a good fifteen years. Busting that myth has been very liberating for...
The Crotchety Old Man
Writing Glass Houses only took me four months. Since it's a true story, all I had to do was write down what happened. The problem was deciding what to include and what to leave out. Mostly I included everything.
By comparison, writing Addicted is a little more challenging and a lot more fun. I sit down to write with only a vague idea of the purpose of the chapter. Somehow, the chapter comes together--usually taking off in an unexpected direction.
Even when I have more time, ending a chapter usually forces me to stop writing. I have to let what I've written float around in my head for a while. The challenge is figuring out how to start the next chapter.
Sleeping on it helps. By the time I start writing again, I still have no idea where I'm going but know where the chapter needs to start. Some chapters come out easier than others, but eventually, I get to where I'm supposed to be.
Believe it or not, I still have no idea where the story is going. I'm not worried. The story is somewhere inside of me waiting to be told. All I have to do is keep writing and it will come out.
Before I started writing I thought you had to know the whole story before you started. That little misperception kept me from even trying to write for a good fifteen years. Busting that myth has been very liberating for...
The Crotchety Old Man
Friday, April 29, 2011
Today in My Garden
We're blessed here in Athens to have escaped the massive tornado that came through the Southeast earlier this week. We did have a tornado warning at 1:15 in the morning, but there was no sign of a touchdown anywhere in Athens. I feel for everyone impacted by the storm, especially those who lost loved ones.
The only damage we experienced from the storm is shown here. Just as the prettiest peony in my yard hit full bloom rain, wind, and the weight of the flowers bent all the stems to the ground. Next year I'm going to try to figure out a new way to stake them up.
Otherwise, it's rose season. I've already featured Knock-out roses and the plain but wonderfully fragrant Rugosas. I ordered these "groundcover roses" from one of the cheapy tabloid catalogs I sometimes get in the mail. They're quite robust--I cut them back to nothing two months ago. They're just starting to bloom.
These landscape roses are called Bonica. They're not fragrant, but the multi-bloom clusters keep going for most of the summer. The plants do well without any spraying or special care--a real plus in my opinion.
Annual dianthus are the other big bloomers in my yard this week. Technically tender perennials, these were planted last year. This week they've really come into their own. I have a lot of them but this picture really shows them off.
Spring flowers are fading fast with summer bloomers coming on strong. I should have a ton of lilies blooming in the next week or two, right here in the garden of...
The Crotchety Old Man
The only damage we experienced from the storm is shown here. Just as the prettiest peony in my yard hit full bloom rain, wind, and the weight of the flowers bent all the stems to the ground. Next year I'm going to try to figure out a new way to stake them up.
Otherwise, it's rose season. I've already featured Knock-out roses and the plain but wonderfully fragrant Rugosas. I ordered these "groundcover roses" from one of the cheapy tabloid catalogs I sometimes get in the mail. They're quite robust--I cut them back to nothing two months ago. They're just starting to bloom.
These landscape roses are called Bonica. They're not fragrant, but the multi-bloom clusters keep going for most of the summer. The plants do well without any spraying or special care--a real plus in my opinion.
Annual dianthus are the other big bloomers in my yard this week. Technically tender perennials, these were planted last year. This week they've really come into their own. I have a lot of them but this picture really shows them off.
Spring flowers are fading fast with summer bloomers coming on strong. I should have a ton of lilies blooming in the next week or two, right here in the garden of...
The Crotchety Old Man
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Getting My Genre On
You may have noticed a drop-off in the frequency of posts here on the blog. The reason for the decline is that I'm spending every spare moment working on my first novel, Addicted. Regulars might recall the same thing happened when I got rolling with Glass Houses.
As Glass Houses is a memoir, the challenges I faced in writing it revolved around making sure the time line and events were accurate. A couple of times I got stuck. The struggles involved figuring out whether or not particular incidents--all part of my life history--were relevant to the story I was trying to tell.
I was also acutely aware that some fraction of the potential audience for Glass Houses were or would know the people I wrote about--especially me. Consequently, there were certain boundaries I wouldn't cross. People don't need to know everything.
Those who've read the book know I share a lot about my past others would have kept to themselves. To the best of my knowledge, everything I write about is true. But it's not the whole truth--in some cases I left a lot out.
With Addicted, those barriers and limits are gone. Writing without fear is liberating, exhilarating, and more than a little shocking. I've written just over 7,000 words (about 25, double-spaced pages) which include tons of dialogue and two sex scenes. I thought the first scene was graphic...until I wrote the second one.
It has never been my intention to write erotica. Yet just seven chapters into my first work of fiction, that's exactly what I'm doing. I can hardly believe it myself. Even worse, I'm already thinking about at least three other books along the same lines.
The stuff I'm writing now makes me blush. Before sending it off to a publisher, I'm going to have to come up with a nom de plume. Ain't no way I'm going to let folks know this stuff comes from...
The Crotchety Old Man
As Glass Houses is a memoir, the challenges I faced in writing it revolved around making sure the time line and events were accurate. A couple of times I got stuck. The struggles involved figuring out whether or not particular incidents--all part of my life history--were relevant to the story I was trying to tell.
I was also acutely aware that some fraction of the potential audience for Glass Houses were or would know the people I wrote about--especially me. Consequently, there were certain boundaries I wouldn't cross. People don't need to know everything.
Those who've read the book know I share a lot about my past others would have kept to themselves. To the best of my knowledge, everything I write about is true. But it's not the whole truth--in some cases I left a lot out.
With Addicted, those barriers and limits are gone. Writing without fear is liberating, exhilarating, and more than a little shocking. I've written just over 7,000 words (about 25, double-spaced pages) which include tons of dialogue and two sex scenes. I thought the first scene was graphic...until I wrote the second one.
It has never been my intention to write erotica. Yet just seven chapters into my first work of fiction, that's exactly what I'm doing. I can hardly believe it myself. Even worse, I'm already thinking about at least three other books along the same lines.
The stuff I'm writing now makes me blush. Before sending it off to a publisher, I'm going to have to come up with a nom de plume. Ain't no way I'm going to let folks know this stuff comes from...
The Crotchety Old Man
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Today in My Garden
The temperature and humidity are both in the 80s today. Even with the late start to the season, early spring flowers have vanished. Late spring and even a few early summer bloomers have stepped in to fill the void.
Last time I featured a dark maroon peony I got from Walmart. The package contained three eyes, allegedly of the same variety. This photo features a lighter-colored bloom from the second plant from the same package.
I tossed a package of California poppy seeds into the butterfly garden years ago. The original plants are long gone, but seedlings continue to come up and bloom. The bright two-toned yellow blossoms (sometimes white or solid yellow) close up after the sun goes down.
Below is the third peony from the package of three purchased from Walmart. I didn't realize until this year that all three plants are different. This one features single rather than double blooms which really highlights the bright yellow stamens.
I noticed this plant blooming just outside my backdoor in the vacant lot next door underneath the peach tree we claim as ours. I have no idea what it is or where it came from. There are probably half a dozen plants blooming, each a good three feet tall. If you know what it is, let me know.
Finally, the first bloom on my oldest peony. This one also came in three pack from Walmart or Lowe's but is the only survivor. The stems barely support the blossoms, especially after rain or a heavy dewy. The more it blooms, the more likely the stems are to break and fall to the ground.
The 2011 season has already been spectacular. It ain't over yet. The best is yet to come in the garden of...
The Crotchety Old Man
Last time I featured a dark maroon peony I got from Walmart. The package contained three eyes, allegedly of the same variety. This photo features a lighter-colored bloom from the second plant from the same package.
I tossed a package of California poppy seeds into the butterfly garden years ago. The original plants are long gone, but seedlings continue to come up and bloom. The bright two-toned yellow blossoms (sometimes white or solid yellow) close up after the sun goes down.
Below is the third peony from the package of three purchased from Walmart. I didn't realize until this year that all three plants are different. This one features single rather than double blooms which really highlights the bright yellow stamens.
I noticed this plant blooming just outside my backdoor in the vacant lot next door underneath the peach tree we claim as ours. I have no idea what it is or where it came from. There are probably half a dozen plants blooming, each a good three feet tall. If you know what it is, let me know.
Finally, the first bloom on my oldest peony. This one also came in three pack from Walmart or Lowe's but is the only survivor. The stems barely support the blossoms, especially after rain or a heavy dewy. The more it blooms, the more likely the stems are to break and fall to the ground.
The 2011 season has already been spectacular. It ain't over yet. The best is yet to come in the garden of...
The Crotchety Old Man
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Toil and Trouble
OK. That comment I made a few posts ago about having a blast writing Addicted? I take it back.
With the technical writing I've done for the last 25 years, the first few paragraphs are always the hardest. I breezed through the first and second chapters of Addicted and amazed myself with an ability to write dialogue that must have been hiding in a dark corner of my mind. So far, so good.
The next day I knocked out two more really good chapters. I blogged about my surprise at how easily the characters resolved the struggle I was having to get from where I was to where I wanted to be. The success must have gone to my head.
Yesterday I banged out a horrible fifth chapter. Nothing about it came easy. Instead of getting easier, each paragraph was harder to write than the one before. I wrote myself into a corner from which there appeared to be no escape.
Today I forced myself to work on the next chapter. The gum surgery I had last year was more enjoyable. But I labored on and pushed my way through, sentence by sentence until I finally ended up where I needed to be. Hallelujah!
The first four chapters are really good. The next two kinda suck, but got me from point A to point B. Writing them wasn't fun...it was work!
The lesson learned? Don't think, write. Keep writing and sooner or later, things will work themselves out.
Having reached point B, I'm now ready to jump into the meat of the story. The stage is set. It was a bumpy ride, but now Josh Freeman is exactly where I need him to be. The rest of the story lurks somewhere inside...
The Crotchety Old Man
With the technical writing I've done for the last 25 years, the first few paragraphs are always the hardest. I breezed through the first and second chapters of Addicted and amazed myself with an ability to write dialogue that must have been hiding in a dark corner of my mind. So far, so good.
The next day I knocked out two more really good chapters. I blogged about my surprise at how easily the characters resolved the struggle I was having to get from where I was to where I wanted to be. The success must have gone to my head.
Yesterday I banged out a horrible fifth chapter. Nothing about it came easy. Instead of getting easier, each paragraph was harder to write than the one before. I wrote myself into a corner from which there appeared to be no escape.
Today I forced myself to work on the next chapter. The gum surgery I had last year was more enjoyable. But I labored on and pushed my way through, sentence by sentence until I finally ended up where I needed to be. Hallelujah!
The first four chapters are really good. The next two kinda suck, but got me from point A to point B. Writing them wasn't fun...it was work!
The lesson learned? Don't think, write. Keep writing and sooner or later, things will work themselves out.
Having reached point B, I'm now ready to jump into the meat of the story. The stage is set. It was a bumpy ride, but now Josh Freeman is exactly where I need him to be. The rest of the story lurks somewhere inside...
The Crotchety Old Man
Friday, April 22, 2011
Rubbing Elbows
To be a successful writer requires quite a lot more than simply writing a good book. Finding a publisher is just half the battle. Once the book is published it's up to the writer to promote the book.
Toward that end I've been trying to increase visits to Chez Crotchety. My foray into the world of Tweets and Twitter hasn't been very successful. Despite having more than 100 followers and regularly tweeting new posts to the blog, in the last month Twitter has produced a total of 14 visits.
Aside from blogging about my writing experience, I've shared the final draft of Glass Houses with about anyone who wanted to read it. In On Writing Stephen King suggests all writers are needy. He's right, which explains why I'm constantly asking those with the draft if they've finished and if so, what they thought.
Today Adrienne Wilder, my mentor and friend, invited me to join a couple of groups for writers on Facebook. What a friendly and loquacious bunch! They have welcomed me with open arms. I'm enjoying getting to know them and especially, checking out their websites and blogs--all of which make this blog look amateurish.
Regular visitors to my amateurish blog may have noticed changes to the blogs on My Blog List. I've added lots of blogs by writers from these groups, most focused on the books they've written and how to get a copy. Check them out and if you see something you like, buy a copy! Many offer electronic copies online for less than $5.
Getting to know real writers, through the writers group and now the Facebook groups has been and will likely continue to be an education. I'm impressed with the generosity of all the writers I've met online and in person. Hopefully, rubbing elbows with published authors will result in some of that success rubbing off on...
The Crotchety Old Man
Toward that end I've been trying to increase visits to Chez Crotchety. My foray into the world of Tweets and Twitter hasn't been very successful. Despite having more than 100 followers and regularly tweeting new posts to the blog, in the last month Twitter has produced a total of 14 visits.
Aside from blogging about my writing experience, I've shared the final draft of Glass Houses with about anyone who wanted to read it. In On Writing Stephen King suggests all writers are needy. He's right, which explains why I'm constantly asking those with the draft if they've finished and if so, what they thought.
Today Adrienne Wilder, my mentor and friend, invited me to join a couple of groups for writers on Facebook. What a friendly and loquacious bunch! They have welcomed me with open arms. I'm enjoying getting to know them and especially, checking out their websites and blogs--all of which make this blog look amateurish.
Regular visitors to my amateurish blog may have noticed changes to the blogs on My Blog List. I've added lots of blogs by writers from these groups, most focused on the books they've written and how to get a copy. Check them out and if you see something you like, buy a copy! Many offer electronic copies online for less than $5.
Getting to know real writers, through the writers group and now the Facebook groups has been and will likely continue to be an education. I'm impressed with the generosity of all the writers I've met online and in person. Hopefully, rubbing elbows with published authors will result in some of that success rubbing off on...
The Crotchety Old Man
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Don't Think, Write!
Thinking about writing a book? Well, stop thinking and start writing. Thinking is the single-biggest obstacle to writing a book.
I know this is true from experience. For years...make that decades...I thought about writing a book. During all those years of thinking I didn't get a single word on the page. Not one word.
In On Writing, Stephen King says writing a book is like an archeological dig. The story is there. The writer's job is to unearth it. Using plot to unearth the story is like bulldozing the dig--you'll get everything out, but the fine details will likely get destroyed in the process.
That was certainly the case with Glass Houses. Being a memoir, all I needed to do was write down what happened. Once I started writing it only took four months to finish. The story didn't really become visible to me until I was more than halfway through the book.
Frankly, writing a memoir is a lot harder than writing a novel. A memoir is based on a certain history. I spent a lot of time researching when things happened to make sure I got it right...or at least, close to right. I had to deal with a lot of problems too, like too many characters, being true to the characters without pissing anyone off, and masking the identity of certain individuals.
Last night I fell asleep trying to figure out how to advance the plot of my new book, Addicted. I knew where I wanted to go but couldn't figure out how to get there. The answer didn't come to me in my dreams, either.
During my "writing hour" today, I decided to divert from the plot with the introduction of a female best friend. Before the hour was up I'd written two more chapters that landed me exactly where I wanted to go. Even more amazing is that better than 85 percent of what I wrote today was dialogue.
Josh Freeman and Linda Delgado are entirely made up. Josh started out being loosely based on me, but now he's very much his own person. The idea for Linda came from my life as well but she, too, has become her own person. Like real people, there are things each character would and wouldn't say or do.
The first chapter I wrote today was about a phone call from Linda inviting Josh to join her at the swimming pool.The second chapter is about the conversation they had around the pool. Almost every single word in both chapters is dialogue.
Conversations go someplace. They have a purpose, even if it's just catching each other up on recent events. The characters, Josh and Linda in this case, drove the story in a particular direction which solved all the problems I'd created in my head thinking about how to advance the plot.
Writing Glass Houses was hard--a labor of love and sometimes painful remembering. I'm having a blast writing Addicted. There are no walls or boundaries, just Josh, Linda, and...
The Crotchety Old Man
I know this is true from experience. For years...make that decades...I thought about writing a book. During all those years of thinking I didn't get a single word on the page. Not one word.
In On Writing, Stephen King says writing a book is like an archeological dig. The story is there. The writer's job is to unearth it. Using plot to unearth the story is like bulldozing the dig--you'll get everything out, but the fine details will likely get destroyed in the process.
That was certainly the case with Glass Houses. Being a memoir, all I needed to do was write down what happened. Once I started writing it only took four months to finish. The story didn't really become visible to me until I was more than halfway through the book.
Frankly, writing a memoir is a lot harder than writing a novel. A memoir is based on a certain history. I spent a lot of time researching when things happened to make sure I got it right...or at least, close to right. I had to deal with a lot of problems too, like too many characters, being true to the characters without pissing anyone off, and masking the identity of certain individuals.
Last night I fell asleep trying to figure out how to advance the plot of my new book, Addicted. I knew where I wanted to go but couldn't figure out how to get there. The answer didn't come to me in my dreams, either.
During my "writing hour" today, I decided to divert from the plot with the introduction of a female best friend. Before the hour was up I'd written two more chapters that landed me exactly where I wanted to go. Even more amazing is that better than 85 percent of what I wrote today was dialogue.
Josh Freeman and Linda Delgado are entirely made up. Josh started out being loosely based on me, but now he's very much his own person. The idea for Linda came from my life as well but she, too, has become her own person. Like real people, there are things each character would and wouldn't say or do.
The first chapter I wrote today was about a phone call from Linda inviting Josh to join her at the swimming pool.The second chapter is about the conversation they had around the pool. Almost every single word in both chapters is dialogue.
Conversations go someplace. They have a purpose, even if it's just catching each other up on recent events. The characters, Josh and Linda in this case, drove the story in a particular direction which solved all the problems I'd created in my head thinking about how to advance the plot.
Writing Glass Houses was hard--a labor of love and sometimes painful remembering. I'm having a blast writing Addicted. There are no walls or boundaries, just Josh, Linda, and...
The Crotchety Old Man
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
On Public Discourse
Last week I had to go to Atlanta, twice. Depending on traffic, the trip from my house to downtown can take anywhere from 70 minutes to three hours. Thanks to a fast trip home Thursday evening, my average time (one way) was about two hours.
Music--mine or whatever is on the radio--gets old. Listening to talk radio makes the trip go faster. My preference is something on National Public Radio (especially Fresh Air). If NPR is not an option I'll switch over to 95.5.
With luck The Clark Howard Show or Dave Ramsey Show will be on. As a personal financial management educator, it's interesting to hear what people are asking about. Sometimes I even learn something.
Other options are less enjoyable. The absolute worst is Neil Boortz. I don't object to his politics so much as his style. Last week he went on a rant about all the people who will blindly vote in 2012 to re-elect President Obama (all federal employees, anyone in a union, and all women--especially single mothers because they need the federal teat to survive). The only surprise was that he left gays off the list.
A listener called in to object, saying whatever Neil Boortz was paid was too much because he added absolutely no value to society. I happen to agree. Boortz blew up and said the caller was a low-wage-earning idiot, called him a communist, and made several other less-than-flattering remarks about the man's character. The caller never got a chance to defend his character--that's not how these shows work.
On the trip home I got to hear Mark Arum. I don't know who he is or what his claim to fame might be. Steroid use by Barry Bonds was the topic when I listened in. Arum suggested everyone would take a shot of steroids if it would enable them to reach a life-long goal. As an example he asked who wouldn't take steroids if it would guarantee winning the lottery.
Never mind it's a stupid comparison. When folks called in saying they would never cheat to get ahead, Arum said they were liars. Clearly he would do anything if it made him richer or more famous. Again, anyone who disagreed was called names without being given the opportunity to defend their position.
The next topic on Arum's show was the disappearance of a Muslim woman who turned up in another county and didn't want her husband to know where she was. Somehow, the fact she was Muslim made a difference. The majority of callers said horrible things about her based entirely upon her religious beliefs. Most of these hateful rants ended with a plea for her to find Jesus. Yeah...after what you just said I want to be more like you...NOT!
Sadly, this kind of one-sided ranting is what now passes for debate in our country. We should be ashamed. Intolerance, and prejudice are the tools of the ignorant and uneducated. I'd call them dumbasses, but you expect more than name-calling from...
The Crotchety Old Man
Music--mine or whatever is on the radio--gets old. Listening to talk radio makes the trip go faster. My preference is something on National Public Radio (especially Fresh Air). If NPR is not an option I'll switch over to 95.5.
With luck The Clark Howard Show or Dave Ramsey Show will be on. As a personal financial management educator, it's interesting to hear what people are asking about. Sometimes I even learn something.
Other options are less enjoyable. The absolute worst is Neil Boortz. I don't object to his politics so much as his style. Last week he went on a rant about all the people who will blindly vote in 2012 to re-elect President Obama (all federal employees, anyone in a union, and all women--especially single mothers because they need the federal teat to survive). The only surprise was that he left gays off the list.
A listener called in to object, saying whatever Neil Boortz was paid was too much because he added absolutely no value to society. I happen to agree. Boortz blew up and said the caller was a low-wage-earning idiot, called him a communist, and made several other less-than-flattering remarks about the man's character. The caller never got a chance to defend his character--that's not how these shows work.
On the trip home I got to hear Mark Arum. I don't know who he is or what his claim to fame might be. Steroid use by Barry Bonds was the topic when I listened in. Arum suggested everyone would take a shot of steroids if it would enable them to reach a life-long goal. As an example he asked who wouldn't take steroids if it would guarantee winning the lottery.
Never mind it's a stupid comparison. When folks called in saying they would never cheat to get ahead, Arum said they were liars. Clearly he would do anything if it made him richer or more famous. Again, anyone who disagreed was called names without being given the opportunity to defend their position.
The next topic on Arum's show was the disappearance of a Muslim woman who turned up in another county and didn't want her husband to know where she was. Somehow, the fact she was Muslim made a difference. The majority of callers said horrible things about her based entirely upon her religious beliefs. Most of these hateful rants ended with a plea for her to find Jesus. Yeah...after what you just said I want to be more like you...NOT!
Sadly, this kind of one-sided ranting is what now passes for debate in our country. We should be ashamed. Intolerance, and prejudice are the tools of the ignorant and uneducated. I'd call them dumbasses, but you expect more than name-calling from...
The Crotchety Old Man
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
A Serious Writer
The gay publishing house where I submitted Glass Houses says they are only interested in quality works from serious writers. While quality is a subjective thing, the "serious writer" part means they expect more books to be forthcoming. In fact, they ask for information about works in progress.
I lied. At the time of the submission I wasn't working on anything. Rather than say so, I said I was working on a follow-up memoir focused on some of the addiction issues uncovered while writing Glass Houses.
It wasn't a barefaced lie. I'd been thinking about the follow-up memoir for weeks but hadn't written a single word. Due to the content, unless I wanted to get fired I had decided writing the follow-up wasn't going to be possible until after I retired.
My Aunt Judy (and others) have told me Glass Houses is a little raw. By raw they mean gritty. I talk openly but carefully about my past drug use and some sexual encounters. I felt comfortable doing so because the "true confession" stuff took place so long ago.
My lie to the publisher has been fixed. I have officially started writing my second book. Rather than a memoir, Addicted is a work of fiction about Josh Freeman and his addiction to relationships and sex.
Regular readers know I'm terrified of writing fiction. Just the idea of coming up with believable dialogue gives me nightmares. Or it did, until the incredibly talented Adrienne Wilder took me under her wing.
The turnaround moment came as I was reading Stephen King's memoir On Writing. Adrienne says it is required reading for any aspiring writer. The website of my publisher says the same thing. Even though I haven't yet finished reading, I have to agree.
Writing fiction is liberating. The story behind Addicted is loosely based on the same idea as the follow-up memoir. But because the characters exist only in my imagination, I don't have to worry about hurting anyone, incriminating myself, or getting the facts wrong.
Unlike Glass Houses, Addicted is primarily for gay or very gay-friendly audiences. It goes beyond raw and gritty to downright pornographic. The first 2000 words include dialogue and a graphic sex scene.
Who knew? A year ago the idea of writing a book seemed impossible. Now I have finished one and started a second. Just goes to show you anything is possible, even for...
The Crotchety Old Man
I lied. At the time of the submission I wasn't working on anything. Rather than say so, I said I was working on a follow-up memoir focused on some of the addiction issues uncovered while writing Glass Houses.
It wasn't a barefaced lie. I'd been thinking about the follow-up memoir for weeks but hadn't written a single word. Due to the content, unless I wanted to get fired I had decided writing the follow-up wasn't going to be possible until after I retired.
My Aunt Judy (and others) have told me Glass Houses is a little raw. By raw they mean gritty. I talk openly but carefully about my past drug use and some sexual encounters. I felt comfortable doing so because the "true confession" stuff took place so long ago.
My lie to the publisher has been fixed. I have officially started writing my second book. Rather than a memoir, Addicted is a work of fiction about Josh Freeman and his addiction to relationships and sex.
Regular readers know I'm terrified of writing fiction. Just the idea of coming up with believable dialogue gives me nightmares. Or it did, until the incredibly talented Adrienne Wilder took me under her wing.
The turnaround moment came as I was reading Stephen King's memoir On Writing. Adrienne says it is required reading for any aspiring writer. The website of my
Writing fiction is liberating. The story behind Addicted is loosely based on the same idea as the follow-up memoir. But because the characters exist only in my imagination, I don't have to worry about hurting anyone, incriminating myself, or getting the facts wrong.
Unlike Glass Houses, Addicted is primarily for gay or very gay-friendly audiences. It goes beyond raw and gritty to downright pornographic. The first 2000 words include dialogue and a graphic sex scene.
Who knew? A year ago the idea of writing a book seemed impossible. Now I have finished one and started a second. Just goes to show you anything is possible, even for...
The Crotchety Old Man
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Today in My Garden
Most my garden photos are taken an hour or so before the sun goes down. Today I went out at 3:00 to get some shots in full sun. Normally I have no trouble narrowing the field of photos down to three. Not today.
Years ago I planted some Beidermeir Columbines. The original plants and several generations since are long gone. The complex blossoms are among my favorites.
I have no idea what kind of peony this is. It's supposed to be a pink with single blossoms. The other two that came in the same package are pink.
I've planted half a dozen native azaleas. Three still survive--this is the only one that blooms. I think they get too much shade.
You've seen this combo before--in my last post about the garden. I'm in love with the deep red azaleas and think they look great with the pansies. That's one of the benefits of blogging--I decide what goes in!
This combo was featured in the last garden post, too. The Beauty Bush blooms look white but are actually a very pale pink. Beneath them you can just make out the amsonia blue star just coming into bloom.
Finally, a single white iris. These were growing in the lot when the house was built. I suspect my backdoor neighbors threw them over the fence.
And that's what's happening today in the garden of...
The Crotchety Old Man
Years ago I planted some Beidermeir Columbines. The original plants and several generations since are long gone. The complex blossoms are among my favorites.
I have no idea what kind of peony this is. It's supposed to be a pink with single blossoms. The other two that came in the same package are pink.
I've planted half a dozen native azaleas. Three still survive--this is the only one that blooms. I think they get too much shade.
You've seen this combo before--in my last post about the garden. I'm in love with the deep red azaleas and think they look great with the pansies. That's one of the benefits of blogging--I decide what goes in!
This combo was featured in the last garden post, too. The Beauty Bush blooms look white but are actually a very pale pink. Beneath them you can just make out the amsonia blue star just coming into bloom.
Finally, a single white iris. These were growing in the lot when the house was built. I suspect my backdoor neighbors threw them over the fence.
And that's what's happening today in the garden of...
The Crotchety Old Man
A Serendipitous Set-Back
The local writer's group met last night. Unfortunately, we didn't get to discuss Glass Houses. You can imagine my disappointment.
As you'd expect from ole Crotchety, I was also more than a little pissed. With the exception of the delightful Adrienne Wilder, nobody was able to finish reading my book in time for the meeting. Bummer.
I was also disappointed that the two writers most like me in terms of style and genre weren't able to attend. One is familiar with memoirs and the narrative style I use. The other is starting her own memoir. I value everyone's feedback but was especially looking forward to hearing their comments.
Once we got into discussing the other submissions, my anger and disappointment faded. Hearing what everyone had to say about the pieces we're critiquing is interesting. I'm learning a lot about writing good fiction.
We did spend a few minutes talking about Glass Houses. Some members asked about other memoirs to read to become more familiar with the genre. I didn't offer any suggestions. In my opinion, originality and good writing are what make a memoir interesting. A good read is a good read.
The feedback from those who had read part of the book was positive. They think the structure is fine. That's a huge relief. As I've said before, I wasn't in favor of a massive reorganization of the book.
The group typically works with manuscripts 5,000 words at a time--3,000 if there are a lot of submissions for one meeting. At just over 110,000 words, my manuscript is longer than most. Depending on the number of submissions per meeting, we're talking 22 to 35 meetings for a full critique.
In the final moments of the meeting we came up with a new and improved plan for workshopping Glass Houses. After everyone finishes reading the manuscript--probably a month or so from now--we'll select the sections most in need of work for discussion at future meetings. This will likely cut the number of meetings needed by half if not more.
Things always work out for the best. I need to remind myself of this truth whenever I start blowing a fuse. No matter how often I think otherwise, the world does not revolve around...
The Crotchety Old Man
As you'd expect from ole Crotchety, I was also more than a little pissed. With the exception of the delightful Adrienne Wilder, nobody was able to finish reading my book in time for the meeting. Bummer.
I was also disappointed that the two writers most like me in terms of style and genre weren't able to attend. One is familiar with memoirs and the narrative style I use. The other is starting her own memoir. I value everyone's feedback but was especially looking forward to hearing their comments.
Once we got into discussing the other submissions, my anger and disappointment faded. Hearing what everyone had to say about the pieces we're critiquing is interesting. I'm learning a lot about writing good fiction.
We did spend a few minutes talking about Glass Houses. Some members asked about other memoirs to read to become more familiar with the genre. I didn't offer any suggestions. In my opinion, originality and good writing are what make a memoir interesting. A good read is a good read.
The feedback from those who had read part of the book was positive. They think the structure is fine. That's a huge relief. As I've said before, I wasn't in favor of a massive reorganization of the book.
The group typically works with manuscripts 5,000 words at a time--3,000 if there are a lot of submissions for one meeting. At just over 110,000 words, my manuscript is longer than most. Depending on the number of submissions per meeting, we're talking 22 to 35 meetings for a full critique.
In the final moments of the meeting we came up with a new and improved plan for workshopping Glass Houses. After everyone finishes reading the manuscript--probably a month or so from now--we'll select the sections most in need of work for discussion at future meetings. This will likely cut the number of meetings needed by half if not more.
Things always work out for the best. I need to remind myself of this truth whenever I start blowing a fuse. No matter how often I think otherwise, the world does not revolve around...
The Crotchety Old Man
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Today in My Garden
The dogwoods are fading fast. We had a wind advisory over the last few days. All the dogwood petals look like snow in my back yard.
Ready for some red, white, and blue? Blue pansies, the darkest red azaleas I could find, and a white azalea (Girard's Christina) with enormous, lightly fragrant blooms. The red azaleas are just two years old--can't wait until they reach full size.
I had to include this picture. It's really hard to get a good picture of blue flowers. These blue delphiniums look great at dusk. I got them at Lowe's a few weeks ago. I doubt they'll return next year but you never know.
The flowers on banana shrubs are hidden deep inside the plant. I had to pull a branch back to get this photo. I knew they were in bloom because of the fragrance--like Juicy Fruit gum.
This is a close-up shot of the beauty bush in full bloom. The Knock-out roses behind it are at least seven feet tall. The roses are almost too plentiful but who's going to knock a rose that blooms all summer?
And that's what's happening today in the garden of...
The Crotchety Old Man
Ready for some red, white, and blue? Blue pansies, the darkest red azaleas I could find, and a white azalea (Girard's Christina) with enormous, lightly fragrant blooms. The red azaleas are just two years old--can't wait until they reach full size.
I had to include this picture. It's really hard to get a good picture of blue flowers. These blue delphiniums look great at dusk. I got them at Lowe's a few weeks ago. I doubt they'll return next year but you never know.
The flowers on banana shrubs are hidden deep inside the plant. I had to pull a branch back to get this photo. I knew they were in bloom because of the fragrance--like Juicy Fruit gum.
This is a close-up shot of the beauty bush in full bloom. The Knock-out roses behind it are at least seven feet tall. The roses are almost too plentiful but who's going to knock a rose that blooms all summer?
And that's what's happening today in the garden of...
The Crotchety Old Man
No More Leaf-Clicking
Nine months after signing on to ancestry.com, I've been able to trace my ancestors back farther than I ever thought possible. Not counting copying and printing charges, I've spent about $180. No telling how many hours I've invested clicking leaves.
Before ancestry.com, beyond my grandparents I was completely ignorant about my family tree. Not anymore. I've traced some lines back several hundred years and in a few cases, more than a thousand years.
Is the information accurate? Maybe. The more recent the person lived and died, the better I feel about the likelihood he or she is actually related to me. The farther back I go, the less confident I am about the results.
Learning about my ancestors has been interesting. Along the way I made some very interesting discoveries. I know more about my family history than anyone in the family, including things nobody wants to know.
My family tree research answered a lot of questions.It also raised a great many more. Unless traveling through time becomes possible, most will likely remain unanswered. Dead men (and women) tell no tales.
The curiosity that kept me clicking those damn leaves has been satisfied. In fact, I haven't clicked another leaf for a couple of months. After thinking about it for a while, I've canceled my membership to ancestry.com.
I did export the file with all the records to a GEDCOM file. If I want, I can buy software (for about $25 I hear) that will allow me to upload the file to peruse the records in my family tree. For now, I know all I care to know about the origins of...
The Crotchety Old Man
Before ancestry.com, beyond my grandparents I was completely ignorant about my family tree. Not anymore. I've traced some lines back several hundred years and in a few cases, more than a thousand years.
Is the information accurate? Maybe. The more recent the person lived and died, the better I feel about the likelihood he or she is actually related to me. The farther back I go, the less confident I am about the results.
Learning about my ancestors has been interesting. Along the way I made some very interesting discoveries. I know more about my family history than anyone in the family, including things nobody wants to know.
My family tree research answered a lot of questions.It also raised a great many more. Unless traveling through time becomes possible, most will likely remain unanswered. Dead men (and women) tell no tales.
The curiosity that kept me clicking those damn leaves has been satisfied. In fact, I haven't clicked another leaf for a couple of months. After thinking about it for a while, I've canceled my membership to ancestry.com.
I did export the file with all the records to a GEDCOM file. If I want, I can buy software (for about $25 I hear) that will allow me to upload the file to peruse the records in my family tree. For now, I know all I care to know about the origins of...
The Crotchety Old Man
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Dog Training Disaster Averted
To sign Toodles (and me) up for classes, I Googled "obedience training" and my zip code. All the options but one were on the other side of town. With gas prices the way they are, I figured what the heck and went to the web page.
The trainer's business is called Sit Means Sit. I sent her an e-mail message about Toodles (including that she weighs five pounds), indicated the kind of problems we were having, and asked if she could help. She called me back a couple of days later, assured me she could help, and set up an appointment for a demonstration this coming Sunday.
Having committed, I returned to Google to see if I could find any reviews of Sit Means Sit. Boy did I. Turns out, Sit Means Sit is a franchise opportunity involving--get this--SHOCK COLLARS!!!
I pity the fool who tries to put a shock collar on my baby. I sent the trainer an e-mail asking if the training involved a shock collar and before she could respond, sent another telling her to cancel the appointment. I'd made other arrangements.
We're registered for Beginner Classes at the fabulous Pawtropolis starting April 28 for seven weeks. They offer a variety of training classes, doggy day care, a spa for dogs, boarding (which they call overnights), and more. You can even watch your dog via a webcam.
If the lessons go as well as I hope, we'll be dropping Toodles off every few weeks for Doggy Daycare. My partner is looking into classes for Tico, too. We want going to Pawtropolis to be something they get excited about.
Hopefully Toodles will learn to play with other dogs instead of screaming bloody murder. I hope so. If so, the folks at Pawtropolis will probably see a lot of Toodles, Tico and...
The Crotchety Old Man
The trainer's business is called Sit Means Sit. I sent her an e-mail message about Toodles (including that she weighs five pounds), indicated the kind of problems we were having, and asked if she could help. She called me back a couple of days later, assured me she could help, and set up an appointment for a demonstration this coming Sunday.
Having committed, I returned to Google to see if I could find any reviews of Sit Means Sit. Boy did I. Turns out, Sit Means Sit is a franchise opportunity involving--get this--SHOCK COLLARS!!!
I pity the fool who tries to put a shock collar on my baby. I sent the trainer an e-mail asking if the training involved a shock collar and before she could respond, sent another telling her to cancel the appointment. I'd made other arrangements.
We're registered for Beginner Classes at the fabulous Pawtropolis starting April 28 for seven weeks. They offer a variety of training classes, doggy day care, a spa for dogs, boarding (which they call overnights), and more. You can even watch your dog via a webcam.
If the lessons go as well as I hope, we'll be dropping Toodles off every few weeks for Doggy Daycare. My partner is looking into classes for Tico, too. We want going to Pawtropolis to be something they get excited about.
Hopefully Toodles will learn to play with other dogs instead of screaming bloody murder. I hope so. If so, the folks at Pawtropolis will probably see a lot of Toodles, Tico and...
The Crotchety Old Man
Let the Waiting Begin--The Sequel
Since early March when I received a rejection e-mail from the agent of my dreams for Glass Houses, nothing has happened. I've shared my memoir with several more friends and joined a local writer's group. Barring unforeseen delays, we'll discuss my book at the writer's group meeting this coming Saturday.
I really don't know what to expect. People who have finished the book tell me Glass Houses is very well written and that they thoroughly enjoyed the read. The positive feedback means the world to me.
Two-thirds of the people I shared the book with haven't said one way or the other. I have no idea if they hated it and quit reading, never had any intention of reading it, or are just busy and plan to read it later. Wondering drives me crazy.
It would be different if I'd given them a book somebody else wrote. I might even feel differently if my book was a work of fiction. Given that it's a memoir in which I bare my soul, the silence is deafening and a little frightening.
I asked the writer's group to give me a thumbs up or down on the entire manuscript. Is Glass Houses OK more or less the way it is? Or do I need to go back to the drawing board to start over again?
My own opinion varies with the day of the week and whoever I last talked with about the book. More and more, however, I'm standing behind the book as it's written. Yeah it needs some editing--but not a major rewrite.
My friend Adrienne Wilder just received a contract and an advance for her latest book. I'm thrilled for her. Since she's already read my book, I sent her the query and one-page synopsis I'd sent to the agent of my dreams. Her comments and suggestions helped tremendously.
Today I submitted my revised query, an improved one-page synopsis, and the complete manuscript to a small, gay publishing company. I researched my options and believe this company is a good fit for me. The fact that at least two editors review every submission makes me feel better about my prospects with them, too.
Even successful writers receive a lot of rejections before they find a publisher. Since the editors will have theoretically read the entire manuscript, a rejection from this publisher will sting a bit more than the one I received from the agent of my dreams. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
In the meantime, I'll listen to what the writer's group has to say. If they give me the thumbs up I'm expecting, we'll figure out how to go about improving the manuscript. Getting a thumbs down from them would be a surprise, and likely result in a lot of push back from...
The Crotchety Old Man
I really don't know what to expect. People who have finished the book tell me Glass Houses is very well written and that they thoroughly enjoyed the read. The positive feedback means the world to me.
Two-thirds of the people I shared the book with haven't said one way or the other. I have no idea if they hated it and quit reading, never had any intention of reading it, or are just busy and plan to read it later. Wondering drives me crazy.
It would be different if I'd given them a book somebody else wrote. I might even feel differently if my book was a work of fiction. Given that it's a memoir in which I bare my soul, the silence is deafening and a little frightening.
I asked the writer's group to give me a thumbs up or down on the entire manuscript. Is Glass Houses OK more or less the way it is? Or do I need to go back to the drawing board to start over again?
My own opinion varies with the day of the week and whoever I last talked with about the book. More and more, however, I'm standing behind the book as it's written. Yeah it needs some editing--but not a major rewrite.
My friend Adrienne Wilder just received a contract and an advance for her latest book. I'm thrilled for her. Since she's already read my book, I sent her the query and one-page synopsis I'd sent to the agent of my dreams. Her comments and suggestions helped tremendously.
Today I submitted my revised query, an improved one-page synopsis, and the complete manuscript to a small, gay publishing company. I researched my options and believe this company is a good fit for me. The fact that at least two editors review every submission makes me feel better about my prospects with them, too.
Even successful writers receive a lot of rejections before they find a publisher. Since the editors will have theoretically read the entire manuscript, a rejection from this publisher will sting a bit more than the one I received from the agent of my dreams. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
In the meantime, I'll listen to what the writer's group has to say. If they give me the thumbs up I'm expecting, we'll figure out how to go about improving the manuscript. Getting a thumbs down from them would be a surprise, and likely result in a lot of push back from...
The Crotchety Old Man
Monday, April 11, 2011
Well-Trained
Today I want to tell you about my little five-pound chihuahua, Toodles. She'll be two years old in a few weeks. She's the first dog over six-months old I've ever called my own.
To say I'm crazy about her would be an understatement. She feels the same way about me. Together we're quite a pair.
Mostly she's a good little dog. She's kennel-trained, and enthusiastically jumps into her kennel on command before I leave for work. She's great on a leash and loves going for walks. If she thinks a treat is involved, she will sit on command and on occasion, knows what stay means.
Sometimes I'll kennel her up but most nights she sleeps with me. She's taught me that when she goes to the foot of the bed, she needs to go outside...now. Wait more than a few minutes and she'll poop in the bed. Now means now.
Unless she has to go really, really bad, she's not inclined to go outside if it's raining, snowing, or dark. I've learned that when she lays a certain way with a particular look on her face, it's time. Again, failing to respond in a timely manner is unwise.
I carry her out and set her down in the designated poop zone. She'll immediately assume the position and push one out. Then I have to pick her up--she doesn't like to walk in the wet grass to go back inside.
She's terrified of other dogs. She screams bloody murder until I pick her up if another dog comes within about five feet of her. She screams so loud the neighbors come running to see how badly she's hurt.
I'd take her everywhere with me if I could. Unfortunately, I can't. There isn't a soul on the planet I could leave her with, either--even my partner. Toodles has taken to screaming when he carries her outside in the dark. Unless she met them when she was a puppy, she won't let anyone else even come near her.
As much as I love her being a one-man dog, I had to do something. We start obedience school in a few weeks. Apparently Toodles has a few more tricks to teach...
The Crotchety Old Man
To say I'm crazy about her would be an understatement. She feels the same way about me. Together we're quite a pair.
Mostly she's a good little dog. She's kennel-trained, and enthusiastically jumps into her kennel on command before I leave for work. She's great on a leash and loves going for walks. If she thinks a treat is involved, she will sit on command and on occasion, knows what stay means.
Sometimes I'll kennel her up but most nights she sleeps with me. She's taught me that when she goes to the foot of the bed, she needs to go outside...now. Wait more than a few minutes and she'll poop in the bed. Now means now.
Unless she has to go really, really bad, she's not inclined to go outside if it's raining, snowing, or dark. I've learned that when she lays a certain way with a particular look on her face, it's time. Again, failing to respond in a timely manner is unwise.
I carry her out and set her down in the designated poop zone. She'll immediately assume the position and push one out. Then I have to pick her up--she doesn't like to walk in the wet grass to go back inside.
She's terrified of other dogs. She screams bloody murder until I pick her up if another dog comes within about five feet of her. She screams so loud the neighbors come running to see how badly she's hurt.
I'd take her everywhere with me if I could. Unfortunately, I can't. There isn't a soul on the planet I could leave her with, either--even my partner. Toodles has taken to screaming when he carries her outside in the dark. Unless she met them when she was a puppy, she won't let anyone else even come near her.
As much as I love her being a one-man dog, I had to do something. We start obedience school in a few weeks. Apparently Toodles has a few more tricks to teach...
The Crotchety Old Man
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Today in My Garden
I was maybe a tad late taking pictures today...got caught up in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof with Elizabeth Taylor and Paul Newman. The first and last hour or so of light are best for garden pictures. These are a bit dark but you get the idea.
My delightfully fragrant beauty bush (kolkwitzia) started blooming today. You can see my ginormous Knock-Out roses to the right and azaleas in the background. The predominant smell in the area (like Pond's Beauty Cream) comes from my rugosa roses which unfortunately close up at dusk.
My azaleas will be at peak bloom sometime this week. The white Kurumes in the background were featured last week. These are a little orangey. I'll post a picture of a dark red variety later in the week.
These pink Rutherford azaleas are the biggest in the yard. Rutherfords are often sent as potted plants by florists for funerals. They're very lightly fragrant but it's the double blossoms that make set them apart from other azaleas.
Sorry about the dark photos. I'll try to get out a little earlier next time. Believe it or not, blogging isn't the only activity for...
The Crotchety Old Man
My delightfully fragrant beauty bush (kolkwitzia) started blooming today. You can see my ginormous Knock-Out roses to the right and azaleas in the background. The predominant smell in the area (like Pond's Beauty Cream) comes from my rugosa roses which unfortunately close up at dusk.
My azaleas will be at peak bloom sometime this week. The white Kurumes in the background were featured last week. These are a little orangey. I'll post a picture of a dark red variety later in the week.
These pink Rutherford azaleas are the biggest in the yard. Rutherfords are often sent as potted plants by florists for funerals. They're very lightly fragrant but it's the double blossoms that make set them apart from other azaleas.
Sorry about the dark photos. I'll try to get out a little earlier next time. Believe it or not, blogging isn't the only activity for...
The Crotchety Old Man
Friday, April 8, 2011
Regrets
Dear Boy Scouts of America (local council),
Thank you so much for the invitation to the upcoming banquet to honor the Eagle class of 2010. Having received my Eagle some forty years ago, I know what it means to have accomplished this important goal. Particularly in this day and time, I'm glad young boys have the opportunity to participate in the character-building path to Eagle.
My involvement with Boy Scouts from 1969 to about 1979 was all good. I write about some of my experiences in Glass Houses, a memoir about my life. My time in scouts helped me to develop leadership skills, instilled a sense of pride in my abilities, and fostered relationships I maintain to this day.
Unfortunately, I won't be attending the banquet to honor the 2010 class of Eagle Scouts. Nor will I be sponsoring any of the boys to be honored at the banquet. Frankly, I'm surprised you even asked.
The Boy Scouts of America has made it quite clear there is no place in your organization for people like me. You see, I'm gay. In your organization that little tidbit of information overshadows my Eagle and all my accomplishments since.
Never mind that the character I developed through Boy Scouts helped me to survive an extremely difficult time in my life. Even with a pedophile for a scoutmaster I learned the value of being trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent. Until people with beliefs like yours convinced me I'd burn in hell for all eternity, I tried my best to do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout law; to help other people at all times; and to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight.
My time in scouts shaped me into the man I am today. The integrity I gained through scouting prevents me from supporting yours or any other homophobic organization. It's a shame, too, I know many current scouts would likely be inspired by my story.
Until your organization changes its position and opens scouting to ALL boys, I won't be attending your banquet. No matter how deserving they may be, I can't provide financial support to the new Eagles, either. Please extend congratulations to them from...
The Crotchety Old Man
Thank you so much for the invitation to the upcoming banquet to honor the Eagle class of 2010. Having received my Eagle some forty years ago, I know what it means to have accomplished this important goal. Particularly in this day and time, I'm glad young boys have the opportunity to participate in the character-building path to Eagle.
My involvement with Boy Scouts from 1969 to about 1979 was all good. I write about some of my experiences in Glass Houses, a memoir about my life. My time in scouts helped me to develop leadership skills, instilled a sense of pride in my abilities, and fostered relationships I maintain to this day.
Unfortunately, I won't be attending the banquet to honor the 2010 class of Eagle Scouts. Nor will I be sponsoring any of the boys to be honored at the banquet. Frankly, I'm surprised you even asked.
The Boy Scouts of America has made it quite clear there is no place in your organization for people like me. You see, I'm gay. In your organization that little tidbit of information overshadows my Eagle and all my accomplishments since.
Never mind that the character I developed through Boy Scouts helped me to survive an extremely difficult time in my life. Even with a pedophile for a scoutmaster I learned the value of being trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent. Until people with beliefs like yours convinced me I'd burn in hell for all eternity, I tried my best to do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout law; to help other people at all times; and to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight.
My time in scouts shaped me into the man I am today. The integrity I gained through scouting prevents me from supporting yours or any other homophobic organization. It's a shame, too, I know many current scouts would likely be inspired by my story.
Until your organization changes its position and opens scouting to ALL boys, I won't be attending your banquet. No matter how deserving they may be, I can't provide financial support to the new Eagles, either. Please extend congratulations to them from...
The Crotchety Old Man
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Today in My Garden
My first clematis of the season started blooming a few days ago. I love them and have about a dozen different varieties. I think this one is 'Nelly Moser' but wouldn't swear to it.
My early azaleas are in full bloom. The red Kurumes are still too small to make much of an impression. The white Kurumes are about four foot tall. I love the small, double flowers and that they bloom first among the azaleas.
I couldn't get a good shot of everything together. This picture shows the clematis blooming behind Rutherford azaleas (the largest in my garden) beneath a dogwood. You can't see the red snapdragons and the just-emerging hostas. Oh well.
And that's what's happening today in the garden of...
The Crotchety Old Man
My early azaleas are in full bloom. The red Kurumes are still too small to make much of an impression. The white Kurumes are about four foot tall. I love the small, double flowers and that they bloom first among the azaleas.
I couldn't get a good shot of everything together. This picture shows the clematis blooming behind Rutherford azaleas (the largest in my garden) beneath a dogwood. You can't see the red snapdragons and the just-emerging hostas. Oh well.
And that's what's happening today in the garden of...
The Crotchety Old Man
As Seen on Television
I'm not happy about a recent trend on television. Perhaps you haven't noticed. Let me give you some examples.
America's Funniest Videos bills itself as family entertainment. A significant percentage of the featured videos revolve around men taking hits to the family jewels, projectile vomit, and basketball-sized snot bubbles. None of this strikes me as entertainment, much less something for the whole family.
OK, the ball-bashing is pretty funny, especially when caused by some stupid act. Holding a pinata for a blind-folded three-year-old with a baseball bat is unwise. Ditto trying to ride your bicycle or skateboard down a stair rail. The clips are funny because the dumbass deserves the consequences.
Puking, pooping, and snot-sliming are not funny. AFV is just following the trend. Gross-out television is in. I don't know about you, but I don't see the entertainment value in grossing people out.
I blame the Jackass movies. Gross-out pranks, ball-bashing stunts, and general idiocy prevail. The latest version was filmed in 3-D. I haven't seen it--and won't--but I'd be willing to bet there is at least one projectile vomit shot.
Tosh.O would be absolutely hysterical if it wasn't for his gross out clips. Some are so gross all you see is the studio audience retching and gagging. Given the grossness of the clips we can see, I can't even imagine what the audience must be seeing.
Silent Library is about as bad. Some of the stunts are funny. The rest are either abusive or just gross. Eating or drinking nasty concoctions is a regular feature which usually leads to barfing from the contestant. Again, how is this entertainment?
I guess the next thing is a live show featuring projectile vomit into the audience. People will probably pay extra to sit in the puke seats. After the show you can have the star sign your puke-stained shirt.
Call me old-fashioned, but I'm not a fan of the gross-out trend. No doubt things will get worse before they get better. I promise you will never see projectile vomit or other gross-out clips posted here on...
The Crotchety Old Man
America's Funniest Videos bills itself as family entertainment. A significant percentage of the featured videos revolve around men taking hits to the family jewels, projectile vomit, and basketball-sized snot bubbles. None of this strikes me as entertainment, much less something for the whole family.
OK, the ball-bashing is pretty funny, especially when caused by some stupid act. Holding a pinata for a blind-folded three-year-old with a baseball bat is unwise. Ditto trying to ride your bicycle or skateboard down a stair rail. The clips are funny because the dumbass deserves the consequences.
Puking, pooping, and snot-sliming are not funny. AFV is just following the trend. Gross-out television is in. I don't know about you, but I don't see the entertainment value in grossing people out.
I blame the Jackass movies. Gross-out pranks, ball-bashing stunts, and general idiocy prevail. The latest version was filmed in 3-D. I haven't seen it--and won't--but I'd be willing to bet there is at least one projectile vomit shot.
Tosh.O would be absolutely hysterical if it wasn't for his gross out clips. Some are so gross all you see is the studio audience retching and gagging. Given the grossness of the clips we can see, I can't even imagine what the audience must be seeing.
Silent Library is about as bad. Some of the stunts are funny. The rest are either abusive or just gross. Eating or drinking nasty concoctions is a regular feature which usually leads to barfing from the contestant. Again, how is this entertainment?
I guess the next thing is a live show featuring projectile vomit into the audience. People will probably pay extra to sit in the puke seats. After the show you can have the star sign your puke-stained shirt.
Call me old-fashioned, but I'm not a fan of the gross-out trend. No doubt things will get worse before they get better. I promise you will never see projectile vomit or other gross-out clips posted here on...
The Crotchety Old Man
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Damn My Eyes
After a grade school vision test, I was hugely disappointed to discover my eyesight was fine. My disappointment was not about a desire to see better. Somehow I got the idea glasses would improve my appearance.
My parents and I never got the memo about regular eye exams. My next trip to the eye doctor was about six years ago. Increasing difficulty in reading small print drove me to make the appointment.
Following the exam the eye doctor told me to pick up some reading glasses from the drugstore. I did. Problem solved.
Last summer I went back to the eye doctor. My vision had deteriorated to the point that even with glasses, I couldn't read small print. The harder I tried the less I could see.
After several tests, the eye doctor said I needed to see a retina specialist ASAP. The clincher was my inability to see a dot on a piece of graph paper. Actually, unless and until I tried to focus on it, I could see the dot. I later learned this is a classic symptom of my disease.
The retina specialist performed several tests, including a number of scans. He told me I had macular degeneration in both eyes with a severe case in my left eye. Follow the link for a more detailed description but it is essentially a swelling of the retina caused by plaque deposits.
My vision, per se, is fine. My right eye is 20/15. The left bounces around from 20/15 to 20/30. Glasses don't help.
My peripheral vision is fine--the swelling interferes with my ability to focus. Without treatment I will eventually lose my ability to see details, such as words in a book and faces. There is no cure.
The treatment is an injection in the eye of Avastin, a colo-rectal cancer drug which shrinks the swelling. They numb my eyeball first. Still, getting a shot in the eyeball is only slightly less horrifying than it sounds.
I had to have the injections the first four times I saw the specialist. In February the swelling had gone down enough to skip the injection. Instead of a six-week follow-up, I didn't have to come back for two months. You'd have thought I won the lottery.
My two months was up this morning. I knew when my left eye tested 20/40 that I wasn't going to get a pass on the injection this trip. The scan turned up even more swelling than was evident on the first scan. Damn.
No part of the procedure hurts--it's just uncomfortable. The worst part is the wire clip they use to hold my eye open. Think Clockwork Orange. From prep to finish the entire procedure lasts about two minutes.
While waiting in a dark room for my eyes to dilate I've met a lot of senior citizens who share my condition. Most have had macular degeneration for decades. Unlike me, all are legally blind in at least one eye because there was no treatment when they were diagnosed.
Horrible is a relative term. Compared with losing my vision, the eyeball injections every six weeks aren't so bad. At least when I look in the mirror I still see the face of...
The Crotchety Old Man
My parents and I never got the memo about regular eye exams. My next trip to the eye doctor was about six years ago. Increasing difficulty in reading small print drove me to make the appointment.
Following the exam the eye doctor told me to pick up some reading glasses from the drugstore. I did. Problem solved.
Last summer I went back to the eye doctor. My vision had deteriorated to the point that even with glasses, I couldn't read small print. The harder I tried the less I could see.
After several tests, the eye doctor said I needed to see a retina specialist ASAP. The clincher was my inability to see a dot on a piece of graph paper. Actually, unless and until I tried to focus on it, I could see the dot. I later learned this is a classic symptom of my disease.
The retina specialist performed several tests, including a number of scans. He told me I had macular degeneration in both eyes with a severe case in my left eye. Follow the link for a more detailed description but it is essentially a swelling of the retina caused by plaque deposits.
My vision, per se, is fine. My right eye is 20/15. The left bounces around from 20/15 to 20/30. Glasses don't help.
My peripheral vision is fine--the swelling interferes with my ability to focus. Without treatment I will eventually lose my ability to see details, such as words in a book and faces. There is no cure.
The treatment is an injection in the eye of Avastin, a colo-rectal cancer drug which shrinks the swelling. They numb my eyeball first. Still, getting a shot in the eyeball is only slightly less horrifying than it sounds.
I had to have the injections the first four times I saw the specialist. In February the swelling had gone down enough to skip the injection. Instead of a six-week follow-up, I didn't have to come back for two months. You'd have thought I won the lottery.
My two months was up this morning. I knew when my left eye tested 20/40 that I wasn't going to get a pass on the injection this trip. The scan turned up even more swelling than was evident on the first scan. Damn.
No part of the procedure hurts--it's just uncomfortable. The worst part is the wire clip they use to hold my eye open. Think Clockwork Orange. From prep to finish the entire procedure lasts about two minutes.
While waiting in a dark room for my eyes to dilate I've met a lot of senior citizens who share my condition. Most have had macular degeneration for decades. Unlike me, all are legally blind in at least one eye because there was no treatment when they were diagnosed.
Horrible is a relative term. Compared with losing my vision, the eyeball injections every six weeks aren't so bad. At least when I look in the mirror I still see the face of...
The Crotchety Old Man
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