Author: gregh121

I am a writer and editor who lives in New Orleans.

Freedom! 90

Well, that particular long weekend is now over, and it’s back to the office with me tonight. I’m doing bar testing tonight, so I don’t have to go in until later. So I am going to spend the next few hours writing before heading to run errands on my way to the office. This is a short week, of course–four days–and then another three day weekend and next week is also a four day work week.

I got pretty caught up on the book yesterday; still behind, of course, but if I keep pushing myself I may actually get the damned thing done on time. I don’t know why I do this to myself all the time, but I do, and it’s very tiresome.

VERY tiresome.

But I slept well last night and I do feel rested, which is a good thing, particularly since I have two late nights this week as opposed to just the one. I need to run errands on Thursday during the day, which is also going to cut into my writing time that day (I can’t do errands on Saturday as it’s our annual New Year’s luncheon at Commander’s Palace; which is also going to make writing that day a bit difficult since we generally drink at lunch), so I have to be prepared to get up and get going that day. (I’m skipping Costco this time around; it may just be a grocery run when I get up that morning and be done with it.)

I also did a purge of some books this weekend.

All right, now I am boring myself, so I am going to get cleaned up and get to work on the book.

Here’s a hunk for the day:

When I See You Again

Christmas was a lovely day, relaxing and everything. I got some work done in the early afternoon, and then retired to the reclining chair to watch television. We started watching a couple of movies but tired of them quickly, but we did watch Spotlight, which we enjoyed, and got caught up on a couple of TV shows we watch as well. I started reading Dennis Lehane’s Edgar Award winning Live by Night, which I was reminded of last night when seeing a preview for the film version coming out in January, and it was yet another one of those books in the TBR pile forever that I thought oh, I’ll get around to this at some point. I’d forgotten it was set in Ybor City and Tampa, both of which I am more than a little familiar with from living there in the early 1990’s.

Tampa is vastly different now than it was when I lived there; when I went to GCLS conference in Orlando (I started to write a couple of years ago before realizing it was more like eight or nine years ago; yikes!) I drove over to Tampa to have dinner with a friend, and in the ten years or so at that time since I’d moved away the city was completely different. I only had dinner, and then drove back to Orlando, but I remember driving in and being completely surprised by how different it was. (I used to drive back and forth between Orlando and Tampa a lot; my friends and I had tired of the Tampa gay bars and on the weekends we couldn’t make it to Miami–or I wasn’t going somewhere, thanks to my airline job–we often would drive over to Orlando to go to clubs there)

I wasn’t happy when I lived in Tampa, but Tampa was where I grew up, for wont of a better phrase. It was while I was living there that my life came together, where I decided that I wanted to be more than just an airline employee, and made the changes needed in my life and my mentality that made it possible for me to have the life I have now. I also kind of liked Tampa; I always thought there was something about the town that would make it a good setting for crime novels. I’ve used Tampa in some of my books, but fictionalized it as “Bay City.” I have an idea for a noir that would use “Bay City” as its setting; it’s one of the books I want to write in 2017.

And, of course, Bouchercon is in St. Petersburg in 2018. Maybe I’ll take a week and explore first. There’s a big cat sanctuary just north of Tampa I’d like to visit, because I also have a book idea actually set in a big cat sanctuary; I’ve been meaning to come over to explore and investigate that for quite some time now.

I could also take a long weekend and let Paul sit on the beach while I explore and research, too. We also spent that long weekend at Saddlebrook, the tennis resort, just north of Tampa as well. (It was what actually gave me the idea for the big cat book; of course there’s also a book in the tennis resort as well.)

But I need to get the one I am writing now written, and so on that note, it’s back to the spice mines.

Here’s a post-Christmas hunk for you, Constant Reader:

Isn’t It Midnight

So this is Christmas.

I overslept this morning, which was a pleasant surprise. I’d intended to get up so I could get going on everything i need to do today, but it simply wasn’t in the cards for me to wake up early (the way I did yesterday). Ah, well, it is what it is, and while I do have a lot of work to do today, if I buckle down I can get it done.

I know, working on Christmas? Deadlines, alas, don’t get adjusted for holidays, and this is my punishment for allowing myself to get so behind in the first place. A few hours of good, solid work though, and I can take the rest of the day off. I also have tomorrow off (Paul’s going into the office) and this is my week of late nights (both Tuesday AND Thursday) so if I can get back on track with some good work today–I can still make the deadline.

We opened our gifts yesterday; I got some lovely things from Paul that I am very happy with, and he also seemed to like his gifts also. So, that was lovely. He went out during the day and got a massage while I worked, and got shrimp po’boys for us on his way home and then we watched the Saints beat Tampa Bay (GEAUX SAINTS!) and then relaxed while watching two movies–Hail Caesar!, which could have been better; and Deadpool, which was a lot of fun. I’m not sure what we’re going to do later–I am sure we’ll find something to watch on the many, various streaming options that we now have. (We were going to get caught up on The Exorcist, but Paul decided it was inappropriate to watch on Christmas Eve. “But it’s about good and evil,” I replied, to no avail.)

I will also do some reading. Yesterday evening I reread an old thriller originally published in 1975; that I think I read sometime in the late 1970’s/early 1980’s, when I was going through my first thriller reading phase: Valley of the Assassins by a long-forgotten novelist named Ian MacAlister, and it was set in the Middle East; more precisely, Iran, Iraq, Oman and then Saudi Arabia. It’s an Indiana Jones-type tale (which I always love) about the search for the tomb of the Old Man of the Mountain, and all the treasure buried with him somewhere in the Arab deserts. It begins with the appearance of a strange map, lots of intrigue and adventure and double crosses, and it had some basis in history–the Old Man of the Mountain really existed (I first learned about him reading Thomas B. Costain’s The Three Edwards, and more in The Conquering Family; an interesting historical figure; he founded the Society of Assassins, and was greatly feared). It was also interesting to reread to see how much the Middle East has changed since the time this book was written, making it very dated.

My thriller/intrigue period of this time was triggered by reading Alistair MacLean’s Circus and Helen MacInnes’ The Salzburg Connection back to back; I went through a very long period where I read many books by those two authors and books by others as well; eventually discovering Robert Ludlum, whom I really loved and read everything by until his death (I’ve not read any of the ‘co-written’ books published yearly since he died).

Reading this, and thinking about these thrillers, has reminded me of something I periodically remember but then it slips away: an idea I had years and years and years ago that I wanted to write about as a stand-alone type book, which then evolved into a stand-alone novel with Colin from the Scotty series as the main character. This is an idea I’ve always loved and wanted to try. The Scotty series, if you will recall, began as a stand-alone and then evolved, because of the contracts, into a trilogy. The final volume of the trilogy was effectively split into two books: Mardi Gras Mambo and Vieux Carre Voodoo (and by this, I don’t mean the mysteries themselves; I mean the personal story of the guys). No one really knows much about Colin other than what he chooses to share with them, and there’s also no way of knowing if what he chooses to share is the truth, part of the truth, or not true at all. The fun thing about having a character who’s a secret agent for hire of sorts is just that: the mystery of who he really is. I thought it would be fun to write a stand alone adventure for Colin himself, so the readers could get to know him better–and know him better than Scotty and Frank do. The idea for the thriller I wanted to write, a thriller based in a treasure hunt based in history in the Middle East, easily melded with the thought of writing a stand alone thriller for Colin; in fact, using that idea for a Colin book makes the most sense.

So rereading this book made me think of that book; and while it never really had a title, nor a definitive answer for what treasure he was looking for in addition to being involved in some international espionage, obviously, I’ve been thinking about it a lot over the last day or so.

I’ve also, for that matter, thought about writing a book from Frank’s point of view as well. But the Colin one makes the most sense to me.

Anyway, I digress, and need to get back to the spice mines.

Happy holidays, everyone!

Welcome to the Room…Sara

Christmas Eve, a lovely Saturday morning. It’s supposed to reach a high of seventy-seven degrees today; maybe if I get as much work done as I want to I can take the time out to clean the windows, which are, as always, filthy. I didn’t get as much done yesterday as I wanted–I’m not sure why, but every word yesterday was a struggle and a fight, like drawing blood, but I really have to get moving on this today. I think I’ll be able to get pretty far along today, and another productive day tomorrow can get me back on schedule to finish. I really don’t know why this has been such a struggle, frankly. But if I could learn why I struggle so hard to do something I love, I could rule the world.

I finished watching Season 2 of The Man in the High Castle last night (enjoyed it) and the first season of Eyewitness, which I felt was really high quality and good right up until the last two episodes, when it went off the rails and became completely unbelievable (but I applaud it for its clever plot and for making a pair of gay teens the center of the story, and showing them actually being intimate–kissing and so forth; I also think their sexuality was handled sensitively and honestly; which was really nice. Too too bad about the last two episodes, though). I also finished reading Exit Pursued by a Bear last night.

“I swear to God, Leo, if you throw one more sock, I am going to throw you in the lake myself!” I shout, knees sticking to the vinyl as I turn to face the back of the bus. The boys have claimed the back when we boarded, and since it smelled weird (well, more weird) we were happy to let them have it. I hadn’t expected a constant barrage of hosiery, though.

“Like you could, Winters,” he shouts back. The other boys hoot in laughter.

“I may be small,” I reply, “but I’m crafty.”

“Don’t I know it,” Leo leers, and the hooting devolves into outright catcalls.

I fire back with a wadded sock, barely missing Leo but managing to nail Clarence, who looks properly chastened. I glare at the rest and then turn sharply to face the front, but by the time I’m in my seat again, I’m smiling. The other girls lean in towards me, ribboned braids dropping over shoulders like the least-threatening snake pile in the world. Of course, that’s what the snakes probably want you to think.

E. K. Johnston is a phenomenally successful Canadian young adult writer–her The Story of Owen series looks quite clever (and I am adding it to my list)–and Exit Pursued by a Bear is a very good book, and not only a very good read but a thought-provoking one. The story is told from the point of view of cheerleading co-captain Hermione Winters, and she is telling the story of her senior year, beginning with the trip to cheerleading camp with her team. Unfortunately, at a camp dance one night Hermione is roofied, and she is found the next morning half-naked in the lake. The water has pretty much ruined any chance of forensic evidence, and she herself has little or no memory of what happened to her–the last thing she remembers is trying to find the recycling bin to throw away her empty cup as things start to get foggy.

The book is very well-written and compelling; Hermione’s struggle to deal with being ‘the girl who was raped’ and trying to get her life back together is hard to put down; the way people now react to her and how that makes her feel is painful and sad–how do you deal with people when you’ve been through something horrible and they are sympathetic but don’t know what to do, what to say, to you? But Hermione is a strong young woman with a very great support system which enables her to put her life back together, and that’s the primary focus of the book. And that’s an important story to tell.

If I had a quibble with the book, though, it would be that; Hermione has so much love and support as she puts her life back together, and she doesn’t remember anything that happened to her that night–as she says, “it feels like it happened to someone I know instead of to me”–and she avoids social media so she can’t see what people are posting and saying about her, and for the most part, her friends and the other cheerleaders gather around her to create a protective shell…which kind of seemed a bit too good to be true to me, if that makes sense? I just felt that–don’t get me wrong, I liked the book a lot and recommend it–she should have had to face some of what most girls in her position have to in the real world.

Rape culture is a very real thing, no matter how much some people may want to pretend that it isn’t. I, like so many others, was horrified by the two primary cases illustrating this sort of thing–the Steubenville and Marysville cases a few years back–and of course, the ones detailed in Jon Krakauer’s Missoula. I recently watched the heartbreaking documentary Audrie and Daisy (Daisy is the girl from Marysville) on Netflix (I urge everyone to watch it, especially if you have daughters–and watch it with your daughters), so after seeing how these kinds of stories actually play out in the real world made the written-for-young-adult-audience sense of this one seem almost like a cop-out.

But that doesn’t lessen the impact of this book by any means. It’s also heartbreaking, even if to a lesser degree than the true stories, which I suspect motivated Johnston to write the book in the first place.

Although I would love to see what Megan Abbott could do with the same kind of story.

And now, back to the spice mines.

Family Man

Good morning, four day weekend!

I was sleepy again last night, even dozing off before Paul got home (he’s been working late every night this week) so we could watch the end of the first season of Yuri on Ice (which was wonderful)and so it wasn’t difficult for me to get a good night’s sleep, which was also absolutely lovely. I have to run some errands today, but other than that I am going to spend the day writing and cleaning the house. I absolutely must get back on schedule with it. Last night I finished a difficult chapter, and then did some planning on what needs to be done. As always, this helped, and probably should have done that before I hit the homestretch; that might have helped me through the last few weeks.

One day I will learn, no doubt. (As if!)

I also hope to finish reading Exit Pursued by a Bear today. I’m not sure what the next book I’m going to select from the TBR pile will be; I am thinking maybe something horror, or maybe a reread, or a classic. I’m not certain, but I shall make that decision once I get through this one. It’s a riveting and incredibly poignant read; I am definitely going to write about it when I am finished.

I also watched a couple of episodes of The Man in the High Castle last night, which I am still enjoying–it has some interesting things to say about choices–but there’s also a bit of Oh, really? sometimes–which is fine; that happens sometimes with shows (books, movies, etc., but doesn’t stop me from enjoying them; I just had to work harder to suspend belief).

I did do a pretty good job yesterday on the kitchen; there’s just a few final touches it needs–there are always some little odds and ends I don’t have a place for, which is incredibly annoying as you can imagine.

All right, I should get back to the spice mines. Here’s a hunk for today:

Little Lies

The last day of work before my four-day holiday weekend. Huzzah! I was so tired last night I feel asleep in my easy chair watching television–I’d already seen what we were watching; I’m getting Paul into Yuri on Ice–so it wasn’t a big deal, but on the other hand, I’ve not fallen asleep in my easy chair in I don’t know how long. And yes, it was a sign. I slept really well last night, deep and long and restful, and it’s taken me a while to get going this morning. Such is life.

My kitchen is a mess, of course. Somehow my apathy and overwork this week has led me to just shrug tiredly at it and pretend it’s not there. This shall not pass another day. I’ve got laundry going–I get to go in later than usual today so I am going to get this mess straightened out so I won’t have to deal with it over the weekend and can instead focus on writing, relaxing, and reading. Deadlines loom.

Heavy heaving sigh.

Anyway, I have a lot to do today–quelle surprise, right?–but it’s cool. I prefer to be busy than not, really, and I really want to get some significant work done on the book (like get back on schedule, which is possible if I don’t allow distractions to interfere) in order to get back to work on some short stories I want to get done by the end of the year. There’s a late December/January 1 deadline for submissions that I undoubtedly won’t make, but it’s worth a shot, right?

I dreamed about the missile base book last night, so it’s entirely likely that I’ll be looking into that a bit more in the new year, as well. I’m not sure if it would be a y/a or an adult book, but it’s definitely more of a horror novel than anything else–and as I always say, I’m not so great at the horror stuff. I can do ghosts, but that’s really about it.

I guess it’s time to start looking at what my goals for 2017 are going to be, isn’t it?

All right, back to the spice mines.

Here’s today’s hunk:

Mystified

Ah. another cold Wednesday morning in New Orleans. Although, apparently it is going to be in the seventies this weekend, just in time for the holiday. Clearly, it’s going to be another bipolar winter in New Orleans. But at least this morning wasn’t as bad as Monday and Tuesday.

I continue to struggle with the book, but I think I’ve solved the problem I was having–I’ve found the character’s voice, without which writing the book is near impossible. I think I’m going to hit the required groove soon, which is also quite lovely–particularly as I continue to fall further and further behind on it. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that it’ll be finished on time, but then again…who knows what distractions lie in my immediate future?

Heavy heaving sigh.

But in odd news of the coincidental, last weekend I was looking something up on Google Earth, which of course led me into the wormhole of hey, let me look up every place I’ve ever lived and every place I went to school and so on and so forth, and of course as I explored Lyon County, Kansas–which led to me to some important findings for a secret project I’ve been working on for two years and hope to get back to with a vengeance in January–I started reliving some of my old high school memories from Kansas, and tried to locate (drum roll please) the missile base.

Back on the dark days of the Cold War, the Midwest was riddled with nuclear missile bases, and there was one near the small town of Bushong, which we drove past in the school bus on our way to school every morning. The only way you knew there was a town there was because you could see the Bushong water tower from the road, and through the foliage you could see the roof of the old high school, closed and absorbed in the 1950’s into the high school I went to, Northern Heights. You knew you were at Bushong when you got to the railroad tracks; there wasn’t even a sign. The presence of the missile base–which was long abandoned at the time I lived there–meant that Bushong was still considered a potential target for nuclear attack, should it ever come, from the Soviet Union. When the ABC movie-for-television about the aftermath of a nuclear war, The Day After, aired in the early 1980’s, it made that message very clear–there were lots of missiles in Kansas, and Kansas would definitely be a major target.

All the kids knew about the missile base, and I went out there twice. I am sure it was trespassing; I think at that time the land still belonged to the government because I remember the big gate had military signs on it and warned people away; but there were also holes in the fencing and there were no guards. It was completely deserted. I remember there was a hill, with a big metal door built into the side of it. I know both times we went out there we opened the door–it wasn’t even locked–and with the daylight you could see along the entry hall, which dead-ended about thirty or forty feet, bisecting at a ninety degree angle another hallway which went off in both directions. It was pitch dark down there, and I remember you could barely read the warning side on the wall all the way down there–but it was clearly a warning about radiation. You keep hear water dripping, and other weird sounds…and no, we never ventured inside.

I always thought it would make an interesting setting for a story, or novel.

So, the other day I was trying to find it on Google Earth, with no luck.

Then, today, someone I knew way back when in Kansas posted a link to this blog someone wrote about visiting Bushong and the missile base.

How weird is that? Should I take it as a sign to start thinking about a book about the missile base?

And now back to the spice mines.

Here’s today’s hunk:

Tango in the Night

It was thirty one degrees outside when I woke up this morning. I know that seems balmy, even spring-like, compared to the temperatures I am seeing being posted on Social Media everywhere, but it’s cold for New Orleans–and those temperatures in the north and midwest I am seeing is the best explanation I have for why I do not live up there. JFC, I joke about never living north of I-10, but I cannot fathom or wrap my mind around below zero temperatures.

It’s hard to believe it’s Christmas this weekend already; December certainly slipped by rather quickly, and I am going to really have to buckle down to get this book done. I didn’t get nearly as much writing done as I wanted to this weekend–I am not caught up by any means–so I am going to really have to work my ass off in the meantime to get it done. I did, however, manage to get some good thinking and planning done this weekend about the book, and what I need to do to get it together. I’m hopeful this will help with the flow and get me really into a writing groove.

Here’s hoping, anyway.

Finally, this morning I felt better as well–I have trouble working when I don’t feel well–and so, again, am very hopeful about how much I can get done this week.

I am really enjoying Exit Pursued by a Bear, and I did manage to finish watching Medici: Masters of Florence this weekend, and also got pretty far along in The Man In The High Castle, season two. It asks some very interesting and pointed questions about survival; and given the times in which we live, questions we should be asking ourselves. I am also all caught up on Yuri On Ice, which I’ve become ridiculously attached to. I am going to see if Paul wants to watch it–he arrived home this morning as I was leaving–because I think he’ll like it a lot as well. At any rate, I am looking forward to the next episode which will drop this Wednesday.

And I suppose I should get back to the spice mines.

Here’s a hunk for you, CR.

Caroline

It is grim and dreary and windy outside this morning; gray and kind of nasty–the kind of day where you are grateful to stay inside and not ever leave (as of right now, my plan for the day is to stay inside and only go outside to take out the trash if I have to). I got all of my Christmas shopping done Friday and mailed the gifts that needed to go yesterday after I saw (drum roll please) Rogue One.

I. LOVED. It.

I woke up feeling crappy yesterday; congested and mildly feverish. In fact, had I not already bought the ticket on-line I would have probably changed my mind and stayed home. But I needed to mail my presents and stop at the grocery store, and had already paid for the ticket…so I went. (It did occur to me that if I was contagious, I could possibly Typhoid Mary the entire theater; but I wasn’t coughing or sneezing, and I didn’t have to turn over money or make physical contact with anyone. It wasn’t crowded, either–it was a ten a.m. show; so I made sure I sat by myself where no one else was sitting. So there.)

I will admit I was incredibly disappointed at the beginning when the big STAR WARS logo didn’t appear nor did they play the theme music; and I will readily admit I was a bit pouty about it. It kind of, for me, got off to a bit of a slow start which was necessary in order to provide back story, but once it got going, it was great fun. I’ll see it again, undoubtedly (Paul is seeing it with his mother this weekend, so I didn’t go see it without him; his mom suggested it last week when he talked to her, and so that was when I bought my ticket.)

Although after running my errands, I felt much worse than I did when I woke up. I tried to write but couldn’t, and finally abandoned the effort, retiring to my easy chair and my book. I finished reading it, then watched the last few episodes of Medici: Masters of Florence, another couple of episodes of The Man in the High Castle (season two started out kind of slowly but has definitely picked up steam), and another show I’ve been watching on-line: Yuri On Ice.

Yuri On Ice is a Japanese anime television series about Yuri Katsuki, a Japanese male figure skater. The show opens with him finishing last at the Grand Prix final, and questioning whether he should just retire. He is considered to be Japan’s best male skater, but he also is shy and introverted, with very little self-confidence, and also suffers from crushing self-doubt and anxiety, which is why he performs poorly. After graduating from college in Detroit, he returns home to his small home town in Japan, and while visiting the ice rink, is recorded perfectly mimicking a routine by five time world champion Viktor Nikiforov. The video goes viral, and Viktor, also questioning his own future in the sport, comes to Japan to be Yuri’s coach–Yuri has always idolized Viktor, and decides to give the sport one more year.

I’m really enjoying the show, quite frankly. I’ve never watched Anime before, so I don’t know if the weird lapses into over-the-top emotion from the characters is normal for Anime, but it’s the only thing that bothers me about the show. The character of Yuri is so incredibly well developed; and the skating sequences are absolutely amazing. As a long time figure skating fan, it’s only natural that I would enjoy the show, I suppose. I’ve long been wanting to write a noir about figure skating, and watching this show has really intensified that desire–plus, I’m writing something else, which always makes me want to write other things.

I started reading Exit, Pursued by A Bear by E. K. Johnston last night, and am enjoying it thus far.

All right, I need to make up for lost time today, so it’s off to the spice mines I go.

Everywhere

So, Season 2 of The Man in the High Castle drops today, and there’s also Medici: Masters of Florence for me to watch, plus all kinds of reading and cleaning and so forth for me to do around the house this weekend. I also have all kinds of errands to run today–just thinking about it makes me tired. On the other hand, I can get everything done and hopefully be home long before five this evening (I am hoping at any rate).

I slept remarkably well last night–was tired, no doubt–and woke up this morning feeling rested and almost prepared to face a day of malls and shopping and errands and appointments and all that jazz. It will be lovely to get all the Christmas stuff done and out of the way, and that way I can have everything wrapped before Paul gets back on Sunday evening.

I also need to spend the late afternoon/early evening writing before retiring to my chair this evening. I am almost finished with Gore Vidal’s Empire, and last night before falling asleep I read some more of The Tigress of Fiori, which I haven’t looked at in a while. I think I’ll probably get all three books I’m reading finished either this weekend or over the course of the next week, and I am trying to decide what I want to read next–horror? Another crime novel? True crime? Literary fiction? I’m very behind on some of my favorite writers.

I also remembered some books I did not include on my list of the best reads of the year: Bent Road by Lori Roy, Lily by Michael Thomas Ford, Slade House by David Mitchell, Iron House by John Hart, and Roger Crowley’s City of Fortune: How Venice Ruled the Seas. My bad, I shouldn’t have just gone off the top of my head.

Bad, bad,bad Gregalicious.

I am still very pleased about my editor’s response to my short story. As I constantly say, and Constant Reader is aware, short fiction is very hard for me, so it’s enormously satisfying for me to write something that pleases an editor. It actually–and I honestly know this is twisted–means a lot more to me to be recognized for writing a good short story than writing a good novel.

Crazy, right?

Well aware.

All right, I need to make a list of what all I am going to be looking for at the various places I will be stopping to shop at today. Sigh. Groan. ARGH.

I detest shopping, I really do.

And as I prepare for my voyage deep into the heart of the spice mines today, here’s some French firemen hunks for you.