Category: Southern Gothic

Five Minutes Alone

Interestingly enough, the plot of Murder in the Garden District is the oldest of all my books, dating back to the late 1970s/early 1980’s.

Weird, huh?

But the murder mystery plot I used for this book was the same one I used for that dreadful novel I handwrote between 1980 and 1984. In the book, the girl from the wrong side of the tracks winds up marrying the wealthiest man in town, who is more than twice her age and has a daughter only slightly younger than she is–and he also has a monstrous, domineering bitch of a mother who hated her new daughter-in-law. He is shot and killed one night, and the young wife is the primary suspect. I always liked that plot and story, and so when it was time to write Murder in the Garden District I took that plot and turned it into a Chanse mystery. I also was able to pull out a subplot involving his landlady and employer, Barbara, that I had always wanted to do and thought it made the most sense to entwine the two stories in this book.

I also wanted to deal with Chanse’s estrangement from his family, with the possibility of reconciling with his mother, who was now dying of cancer at MD Anderson in Houston. This book was, on almost every level, about mothers.

Alyson’s original cover
The Bold Strokes cover for the new edition.

I climbed out of my car and immediately started sweating. Christ, I thought, tempted to loosen the uncharacteristic tie I was wearing, this better be worth it. I slammed the car door and headed for the front gate of the Palmer House. I’d been driving back from Houston when Barbara called, asking that I come by at four to meet a prospective client. She’d ordered me to wear a tie, which meant it was one of her society friends. And society friend meant deep pockets, which is always a good thing. I wiped the sweat off my forehead. So much for making a good impression, I thought as I opened the gate and headed up the walk to the house.

The Palmer House was a historic landmark of the Garden District, and also happened to be the home of my landlady and employer, Barbara Castlemaine, who’d inherited it from her first husband. Built before the Civil War, it was a monstrous looking Italianate house painted a dark burgundy with black shutters. Black wrought iron lacework adorned the upper and lower galleries that ran around the house. The big brick fence that provided it with a semblance of privacy on two sides of the lot leaned toward the sidewalk at a gravity-defying angle from the immaculately kept lawn. A black wrought iron fountain bubbled in the center of a two-foot high box hedge.

I rang the bell at precisely four o’clock. “Hey, Cora.” I said when the door opened.

Cora had been Barbara’s housekeeper for as long as I’d known her, and Barbara once told me that Cora had worked at the Palmer House since she was a teenager. I had no idea how old Cora was—her face was free of wrinkles and there were no signs of gray in her hair. She was wearing her black uniform with the white apron and little hat to match. Her face creased into a smile.

“Chanse! Always nice to see you.” She lowered her voice and stepped onto the porch, pulling the door almost closed behind her. “How’s your mama?”

I had always wanted to deal with Chanse’s family issues from the very beginning. If you remember, I originally planned this series as being seven books. At this point, it was Book 5 and I had gone off-plan with what I had envisioned, thanks to Hurricane Katrina. When it was time to write this one, I remembered that old plot from that old book of mine, which I saw as relatively easy to adapt to a New Orleans murder mystery–and a way, when I mapped out the old plot, to bring Chanse’s family back into the story and deal with his relationship, always fraught, with his mother. Chanse grew up in a trailer park with parents who were miserable with their life choices, drank too much, and weren’t the most loving of parents. As I thought about it, I also remembered a story I wanted to do with his brother–sending him back home to his small city in eastern Texas to try to clear his brother of a murder charge, and made notes on it, as well (it would become my story “”My Brother’s Keeper,” which was in Survivor’s Guilt and Other Stories). I merged the original plot with the issue of his mother dying of cancer, and I also took the plot from a now-dead Chanse book (I think this was supposed to originally be Book 4) involving his landlady/boss’ past, and folded it into Murder in the Garden District. It is his landlady that drags him into this case, as a favor to someone who knows her darkest secret, which she eventually has to reveal to Chanse.

I also wanted to write about a powerful Louisiana political family, which became the Sheehans of the Garden District, with the murder victim having just announced his candidacy for state-wide office. Warren Sheehan wasn’t a good person, and as Chanse looks further and deeper into Warren’s history and past…maybe his murder was actually for the best as he was a monster. His much younger white trash wife from the West Bank, his daughter from a first marriage, the grasping hateful mother…yeah, I had a lot of fun writing this book, and I think it’s one of the standouts of the series, in all due modesty.

Chanse’s landlady/boss, by the way, was named Barbara Villiers Palmer Castlemaine, which was actually the name of one of the most notorious mistresses of King Charles II of England; but I’d always loved the name and gladly appropriated it for this character.

This was also my last book for Alyson, as they went through another upheaval and everyone I’d worked with on the previous book had been fired and I now had someone new to work with. Alyson folded up its tent and closed up shortly after the book came out. i was never paid my final portion of the advance…and never saw another dime out of them. They kept my books in print and kept selling them…but never paid me another cent. I wasn’t sorry they closed–it was really the only way I’d ever leave them and take the series elsewhere, and it was a relief. I’d been given the runaround from them and had to constantly get used to new people to work with on every title I did for them…yeah, wasn’t sorry about this, but I was pretty pissed about being robbed.

.

Come Softly to Me

Sunday morning and as predicted, I didn’t get nearly as much done yesterday as I wanted to, but it was mostly about time more than anything else. I picked up the mail and stopped by Fresh Market, but then once I got home…well, there were chores still to be done (still have some more to do this morning) and I never did get around to writing anything besides blog entries yesterday, like a very bad Gregalicious. Today I have no choice, I have to write today…and I also have to drive out to the Apple Store in Metairie, and make groceries, both of which will be tiring. (I knew I’d regret putting that chore off until today, but at least it’s sunny out today; I think it’s going to be a rather lovely day out there.)

Sparky is always a problem for sitting at the computer as he always wants to sit in my chair–he will hang out and be obnoxious (right now he’s sprawled across the desk, his flicking tail brushing the keyboard as he knocks other things off…) and then jump into the chair the minute I get up for more coffee or anything, really. Heavy sigh, the joys of Big Spoiled Kitten Energy.

I did manage to watch Christopher and His Kind yesterday, which is Isherwood’s memoir about his life in Berlin during the rise of the Nazis, and it much more explicit than Isherwood’s earlier fictions about Berlin. During that “Staged Right” about Cabaret I watched the other night, he wrote it in reaction to the movie, to leave the record straight (as it were) about himself and his life; he hated that Cabaret made Brian/Christopher into a bisexual and that Sally was played by Liza Minnelli, when the actual Sally was marginally talented at best. It was an interesting film, but Christopher himself really came across as a bit of an asshole. There was also a lot of explicit sex, and there’s no question in watching this film about what his sexuality was, for sure. Matt Smith is simply stunningly beautiful, and Alexander Draymon as Caspar is just too beautiful for words. The two stories (Cabaret and Christopher and His Kind) are similar to each other, but I’m not really sure if a watcher didn’t know that both came from the same source, those similarities are simply base facts the story grew out of, and you might not even recognize them as the same story. I may need to revisit the books sometime when I have more time…as I recognize that a lot of the revisiting of fiction I talk about is probably never going to happen. But as always, I find rereading something as an easy way to shake off the not-reading mode I’ve been in for so long. We also watched the new BBC adaptation of Agatha Christie’s Murder is Easy yesterday, which we quite enjoyed…although I am waiting for the racists to complain since they cast a Black man in the lead.

So I started rereading Norah Lofts’ The Little Wax Doll yesterday, of which I remember very little of my original read back in junior high school (I read her novels about queens and royal women before moving on to her other novels, which was very definitely an eclectic mix), and find myself enjoying it a lot more than I did when I was twelve–I did enjoy it, but I am certainly seeing it differently some fifty years later. As a kid, I just read Miss Mayfield as a lonely spinster who spent most of her life working in Africa in her colonial “white savior” role with her best friend, who hopes to save enough money to buy a little place she and her “best friend” could retired to; now it’s screaming lesbians at me. The book was originally published in 1960, and of course there are the queer deniers who like to think we never existed in the world before Stonewall. The phenomenon of spinsters sharing a home was just a fact of life, and the British never really inquired much further than that–the British cold politeness.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. There’s a lot to get done today and I am feeling like I will be able to make some significant progress today. Wish me luck, and I may be back later. Happy Sunday, Constant Reader!

Venus

Saturday.

Yesterday was a good day, productive both for day job business and chores and things around the apartment. My PT, as noted yesterday, didn’t seem as difficult as it had the last few times, which was awesome, and like I said, I got shit done yesterday. I started rearranging and reorganizing and making the kitchen more functional (which also required me to throw out a bunch of shit I was just hoarding, really), which is long overdue. I need to work on that some more today before I run errands. I had hoped to not have to leave the house either day of this weekend, but I decided yesterday to postpone the Apple Store trip until Sunday morning–and Paul ordered some things that require me to go by the post office, which means I am going to make a stop at the Fresh Market on the way home from the postal service. We watched this week’s Abbott Elementary, which is terrific, and then we finished True Detective: Night Country (I am guessing that all the men that hated this season? Misogyny, period. How dare a crime show center women? How dare a crime show be run and written by a woman? I enjoyed it, thought it was very well shot, and so they didn’t tie up every loose end? Ryan Murphy never does, either, and studios keep throwing hundreds of millions of dollars at him. And this season engaged me so much I am curious about rewatching season one and watching the other two, as well).

I also listened to the Bad Gays podcast on James Buchanan (shout out to myself for my story “The Dreadful Scott Decision,” which was in The Faking of the President anthology and centered on Buchanan and his “mysterious” sexuality), which I greatly enjoyed.

I feel good this morning. There’s a little bit of fatigue, but it’s not terrible in the least. (It always hits on the second day with full force, so tomorrow will be a challenge.) I want to do some writing to day (actually, need to) and of course I need to keep working on the apartment, and I have some things to assemble that I’ve order. I also want to read more in my book, and possibly watch some classic gay cinema later on today. I don’t know what Paul will be doing today, but I suspect he’ll go to the office and I won’t see him for most of it. I want to watch Christopher and His Kind first, and of course need to finish my rewatch of Saltburn so I can finally finish my entry on it. (Interesting how I’ve recently become obsessed with openly gay writers of the mid-twentieth century, isn’t it?) I’m still enjoying Feud, but it feels like it’s getting repetitive and is being too drawn out; like four episodes might have been sufficient instead of the planned eight.

All right, it’s a bit brief but I really need to get back to work around here this morning, so more coffee, perhaps a bit of breakfast, and a brief one-hour repair to my chair to read for a bit. And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will probably be back a little later.

Lonely Boy

Friday work at home day blog, in which I have PT in a little while and all kinds of things on the agenda to get done. I was productive last night, chore wise, and while I still have some chores to do, I am further ahead than I usually am when I wake up on Friday morning. The weather turned cold yesterday afternoon, and I came straight home. Sparky was feeling needy when I got home, so I had to spend some time cuddling and playing with him (he managed to get the hanging mouse toy off it’s string…but this morning he is playing with the string, and the mouse is nowhere to be found). I watched some news–always a downer–and then the Staged Right Youtube channel’s history of Ethel Merman’s career; from which my primary takeaway was Helen Lawson in Valley of the Dolls was so clearly based on Ethel that I can’t believe she didn’t sue…and it made me want to reread the book again. There was a downpour that started right before i went to bed–and it was even colder when I slipped under the covers. Although a quick check tells me it’s 58 outside…sigh.

But I am awake. My arm feels a bit fatigued, but that’s okay, I just need to monitor myself more at PT and at the gym. I am definitely mentioning it this morning, though–even if it makes me feel like a whiner. This is my arm, that had a serious injury and a major surgery, so I need to get past that kind of self-defeating mentality and understand that they need to know if it’s been tired, hurting, fatigued, etc. If I don’t tell them what I am feeling accurately because I want to please them (a problem my entire life, which has created more issues than its resolved, frankly), this could be bad for my arm.

It’s funny, because the other day I was emailing a friend who’d said something kind to me, and one thing I said in response was Oh, good. I always worry that I am a pest or am too much. He replied that he toned himself down sometimes, too, for the same reason: being too much. After I got his response, I started thinking about it, worrying that phrase and that feeling that both of us, gay men in their sixties, have to tone ourselves down because people think we’re “too much”, and parsed it some more during Ethel Merman’s career history and some other Youtube videos last night. Too much. How many times have I been told I am “too much,” that I’m not “masculine” enough1, that I need to change who I was and how other people saw me (narrator voice: you cannot control other people’s perceptions of you. All you can do is hope for the best) and that has impacted how I feel about people and how I act and behave, and how much of myself I reveal and share with them. Sigh. Keep unpacking that shit, Gregalicious, and remember, you are who you are and never let anyone dim your bright queer light.

And remember–no one ever tells a straight man he’s “too much”–even when they sexually assault women, so…maybe fuck all the way off?

All right, I am now home from PT. The sun has come out, but it’s supposed to rain all day and most of the weekend. I’ve decided to wait until Sunday morning to go to the Apple Store in Metairie. I don’t really want to deal with evening traffic to get there and back–traffic back into the city is always a nightmare around that time–and they open later, so I can get up later and go later and not have to worry about traffic and so forth. PT was a bit harder this morning, but some things were easier. I am going to make a to-do list for the weekend, as well as a list of all chores I want/need to get done this weekend, and figure out some other things.

And on that note–several hours later, my bad–I am heading BACK into the spice mines. Have a great Friday!

  1. I am writing another essay–which I hopefully will finish someday–about this very thing; the strait-jacket of toxic masculinity I was raised with and conditioned by education, school, and culture to think and believe was the only “normal” way to be a man. It’s called “Are You Man Enough.” ↩︎

Personality

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week. Huzzah. I was tired after work yesterday–I made groceries and went to get the mail–but I did get some things donw last night around the house before collapsing into my easy chair. I watched another one of those “Staged Right” documentaries (this time about Evita), and then Paul came down and we watched another episode of True Detective: Night Country, which really took a turn last night! We’re enjoying the show tremendously, despite all the noise on-line about people hating it…and by people, I mean men. I don’t think I’ve seen a single post trashing the show that wasn’t by a (straight) man? Which sets off my “bullshit misogyny” alarm, frankly.

The weather had turned yesterday by the time I got off work; it had gotten a bit colder and the wind had dramatically picked up. It was also kind of gray, which reminded me of how it is before a flooding rain….borderline tornado weather. It feels cold in the apartment this morning, and the high for today is at about sixty. It may rain today, and there’s a 95% chance of it tomorrow. I have early PT tomorrow morning, and at some point I need to drive to Metairie to return something to the Apple store (I’d ordered a keyboard at long last for my iPad, but it’s the wrong size). Loathe as I am to do that–go out there–it was far too expensive for me to just slide and do nothing about. Heavy heaving sigh. But really, it’s not that big of a hassle, and in going out there, I can actually treat myself to Sonic or Atomic Burger as a treat for having to go to Metairie and deal with Lakeside Mall. Shudder.1

I feel good and rested this morning, which is very unusual for a Thursday. Last Thursday was like this, too–I ended the day feeling energized, and got a lot done when I got home. I hope that will be the case tonight. I have loads of laundry in both washer and dryer that need to be dealt with tonight; I need to empty and reload the dishwasher; the floors are looking horrific; and of course I need to assemble the shower caddy. I also need to redo my to-do list, and perhaps make one just for the weekend. I am going to have to go make groceries at some point this weekend, too. I need to go by Lowe’s at some point, too. We need more filters and I am going to splurge on a new barbecue grill, as the last one is well past its last legs, frankly. I also need to reorganize both the freezer and the refrigerator, as well as get rid of some more boxes of stuff that is no longer needed to be kept.

I love feeling reinvigorated in the mornings, frankly. I don’t know how long this will last, of course, and it’s possible I’ll get tired by the end of my shift, but that’s also okay. I don’t beat myself up over being tired anymore, and maybe the loss of anxiety is making me lean into my own stasis more than I ever have before, but I don’t think my creativity is gone–I’m having too many ideas and thoughts and making too many notes–but I need to refocus it on writing actual words down, rather than just thinking about them. I also need to start reading again. I hate how far behind I’ve fallen on my reading.

I did start listening to podcasts yesterday in the car, which was really cool. I found one called Bad Gays, which is hosted by the author of the book Bad Gays and someone who works at the Gay Museum in Berlin (which, if we ever go to Germany, is something I’d like to see); and I listed to the episode on James I of England (VI of Scotland) and his male favorites. I didn’t see an episode on two historical figures I am fascinated by, Henri III of France, and Louis XIV’s brother, Philippe d’Orleans; Philippe’s lover the Chevalier de Lorraine was the definitive bad gay of Versailles. I should fictionalize the Affair of the Poisons…which would give me an excuse to visit France for research. Plus it’ll give me the excuse to study up on the period more, too. I love seventeenth century France.

I think I am going to watch Christopher and His Kind this weekend, and I may even rewatch Cabaret for good measure. I also found some other gay movies on-line to watch that I’ve never seen, like Another Country and Maurice. I also want to rewatch Saltburn so I can finish my entry on it.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. May your Thursday be wonderful, cheery and bright, and I may be back later–one never knows.

  1. Hilariously, now that my anxiety is under control I’ve realized my hatred of driving and having to go places was always anxiety-based. Always. ↩︎

Four to the Floor

Dream Lover: Monday morning back to the office blog; in which I had a productive weekend; finished a short story; figuring out what I need to do; thinking about being a Louisiana tourist; and back to the gym.

https://gregwritesblog.com/2024/02/26/dream-lover/ via @scottynola

Ah, the torturous path Murder in the Rue Ursulines took on its way to the book stores.

There was, if you will remember, a lot of turmoil going on at Alyson at the time. I had worked with a different editor for every Chanse book, and as I waited and waited and waited for an offer for the fourth book, my third editor was fired as the company reorganized its publishing arm yet again, with the end result that they didn’t make an offer on the book until they realized that the fall catalogue had been neglected during these transitions and they made the offer so long as the book could be finished in six weeks (I hadn’t started writing it yet) but I said yes on two conditions: I could work with an outside editor of my choosing, and the contract had to be for two books, rather than one–so I wouldn’t have to go through this again for the fifth book in the series. I kind of figured they wouldn’t meet my demands–but they did, of course, and then I had to write a draft of a book in six weeks.

Constant Reader, I managed it.

The original Alyson cover on the left; the Bold Strokes edition on the right.

“Chanse MacLeod to see Loren McKeithen,” I said to the pretty woman at the reception table. She looked to be in her late thirties, and of mixed racial heritage, her skin the color of a delicately mixed café-au-lait, her hair copper-colored. She gave me a wide smile. There was a wedding ring on her left hand, and a diamond tennis bracelet on her right wrist. Her nails were done in a French manicure. On her forehead was a smudged cross made of gray ash. I was tempted to ask what she’d given up for Lent, but decided against it.

“Have a seat, and I’ll let him know you’re here.” She gave me a smile, picking up her phone. “It shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”

I nodded and took a seat in an overstuffed leather chair, picking up an issue of Crescent City magazine and idly paging through it. I was tired, probably way too tired to be taking on a new job. The aspirin I’d taken hadn’t kicked in yet, either. Every muscle in my body ached. I’d planned on spending my entire Ash Wednesday in bed, or lazing around my apartment, recovering from the overindulgence of the last five days. But Loren was a good guy, and threw me some work every now and then. So, I’d roused myself out of my post-Mardi Gras stupor and come to his office.

Besides, it never hurts to have a prominent attorney in your debt. You never know when you’re going to need one.

This story actually started out as a Scotty book, what I thought would be the fourth in that series, Hollywood South Hustle. This book was inspired by something that happened to me on my way to work one morning. When I originally went to work part-time at the NO/AIDS Task Force part time, I worked out of the CAN (Community Awareness Network) office on Frenchmen Street in the Marigny. Full time staff had free parking in a lot around the block on Elysian Fields; I had to find street parking in the neighborhood, which was never a guarantee. This particular morning I found a place to park over on Kerlerec, and as I was locking up my car a family on bicycles was coming around the corner at Chartres. The adults raised a hand in greeting and I automatically said “Good morning” pleasantly back to them with a smile, and it wasn’t until after they rode past that I realized it was Brad and Angelina and two of their kids; they lived a few blocks away. As I continued on my way, I smiled at the coolness of the moment and I thought Brad has hair the same color as Scotty and is about the same age and size as Scotty and he lives right around the corner and wouldn’t it be interesting if Scotty was walking past their house and someone shot at him, thinking he was Brad? And that would be the start of something. The more I thought about it as I walked, stopping at the little Vietnamese grocery to buy cigarettes, the more i liked it, and by the time I sat down at my desk the entire story was taking shape in my head.

And yes, instead of doing work that day (I didn’t have any), I wrote up the story, the idea, the title, and began the proposal. I also wrote the first chapter and over the rest of that week I wrote the first five, feeling like I was onto something. I polished up the proposal and the first chapters, while continuing to write, and sent it to Kensington, who held the option on the series. While i waited to hear back from them, never doubting for a moment they would exercise their option and take the book, I kept writing. It was incredibly easy, and I was clocking between three and seven thousand words per day.

The day after I finished writing the first draft, Kensington didn’t exercise their option and cut the series loose.

So, when Alyson came back to me with a book contract offer and a due date that was only six weeks out from signing the contract…I thought, I can just turn this Scotty book into a Chanse book, easy-peasy.

NARRATOR VOICE: It was not, in fact, easy.

Scotty books are not easily adapted into something else, particularly when the new adaptation is more serious than something meant to be farcical and funny and over-the-top crazy…plus, Chanse and Scotty are completely different physical types. I had to change a lot of things, which took the “looks like” gambit down from three to two–but I think that worked better with fewer people and I was a bit concerned that the previous Scotty had also involved three look-alikes…problem solved. But it was a lot harder to do than I originally thought (nothing is ever as easy I think it is when I am pondering what to do), and in retrospect, it probably would have been much easier to simply write something entirely from scratch, but why do things the easy way when I can make it much harder?

Murder in the Rue Ursulines did well; it sold well and got decent reviews, and I’ve always felt it wasn’t a proper follow-up to Rue Chartres.

But…here we are.

Dream Lover

Monday back to the office blog. I did get stuff done yesterday, but I also apparently wore myself out, because later in the day I kept falling asleep. Paul came down later in the day and we watched two more episodes of Night Country, which we are really enjoying, and then I went to bed relatively early.

The biggest news coming out of yesterday was I wrote almost two thousand words and finished that short story, “When I Die.” It needs a revision, but I am going to let it sit for a week or so before taking my red pencil to it. I also cleaned out some things from the kitchen, did a load of dishes, and cleaned/reorganized my two supply drawers, which makes finding things a lot easier…as well as throwing out stuff I no longer need (if I ever did) and I am quite pleased with the result. I am gradually digging my way out of the hole I’ve been in since even before the pandemic, and it kind of feels nice, to be honest. It feels nice to feel like I have some say in what happens to me again, that I have some control and power over my life. It’s probably illusory, but I can live with the illusion quite happily, thank you very much.

I have a lot of practice living with illusions, thank you very much. In fact, I much prefer my fantasy world than the real one, thank you very much.

Heavy heaving sigh. I do feel a little more tired this morning than I remember feeling last week, but again it’s physical, not mental. I am supposed to go back to the gym tonight–I see my therapist Friday morning–which will undoubtedly exhaust me. The exercises themselves aren’t terrible, and really–the walking there and back is the worst, most tiring part of the entire enterprise. And as it progressively gets hotter as summer draws near, there’s that unpleasant aspect of it as well. But it also is stupid to drive such a short distance and try to find a place to park that’s even remotely close enough for the drive to make any sort of sense; this is the kind of thing that nags at me, comes back to haunt me when I am tired and trying to just let my mind go. But it also stands to reason that the more I make that walk, the easier it will get, and I wanted to start taking more walks in the evening anyway, didn’t I? I need to really get over myself at some point, don’t I?

But I am very pleased that I got that story finished yesterday, and I got ideas for how to finish other stories, which always makes the weekend feel more productive. I am glad I dropped off books at the library, preparatory to another cull, and of course I am glad I washed the car–which I’d like to start doing every other week. The car looks better when it’s clean, and what I really need to have done is use some rubbing compound on it and have it waxed again. That would actually be a really cool thing to do when I visit Kentucky next.

I was also thinking this weekend that on one day of my future weekends, I should use the car to go exploring–in the East, for one, and old Highway 51 along the west lake shore, as well as the north shore and Irish Bayou and Spanish Fort and so on. I should also head over to Houma and Terrebonne Parish, drive out to Grand Isle…there’s so much of Louisiana to explore, and I was thinking Avery Island, where they make tabasco sauce, would be an interesting place to visit as well–not to mention everything all along the River Road, from the plantations to the towns to the Cajun influences. It will undoubtedly inspire more work from me, too.

There’s always so little time, it seems.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later.

How Do You Do?

Saturday morning and I feel good. It looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day outside–yesterday and the day before were gorgeous–and I don’t feel exhausted or fatigued or tired. My muscles are a bit fatigued, but they aren’t sore, which is super great. I also woke up early for a Saturday, too. I am thinking this might turn out to be a terrific day. I am going to go drop books off for the library sale and get the mail and wash the car (it was attacked by a mob of birds, from the looks of it) before coming home and having a nice rest of my day–hopefully productive. I did have a productive day yesterday, too.

My legs are a bit fatigued from walking to the gym yesterday as well as going to Costco, but as opposed to PT, I wasn’t worn out from it nor did I fall asleep in my chair. I’m not sure what that means, really; is my stamina coming back? Does it have to do with the time of the day? I don’t know, but it was a lovely evening for a walk and the program I am doing on my own is relatively short; only eight different exercises. Huzzah! I honestly didn’t know how it would go, and having it go relatively easily was actually quite nice. We’ll see how this continues to go, and then I am going to get back into a regular three times per week routine after the therapy is all done. I am going to have a different mentality completely this time with exercise, as well–more concern about my health than trying to look good. Feeling better is much more desirable than looking better, if that makes sense? (I always tried to keep my mind on the benefit of working out rather than the physical improvement, but it rarely if ever worked because I was so hard on myself about not being in shape and not looking better and so on. Anxiety.)

I didn’t finish putting away everything from Costco last night, so I’ll have to finish that today. I also need to do some filing and organizing, and the floors definitely need to be worked on. I also want to get some reading and writing done, too. My plans for the weekend perhaps might be overly ambitious, but so be it; they always have been historically but you can’t get stuff done unless you’re overly ambitious. We shall see how the day goes, I suppose.

We watched the LSU Gymnastics last night, and then Paul went back upstairs to work some more while I relaxed downstairs and watched a true crime documentary called Down the Hill: The Delphi Murders, which…I don’t know. Doing a true crime documentary about an unsolved case seems…unsatisfying, at least to me as a viewer. (Granted, Murder on the Bayou and all the others about the Jeff Davis Eight also ended with no one being apprehended; yet it was very interesting all the way through.) I am not going to lie–watching true crime documentaries are often inspiring for me and give me ideas about stories and books to write, so I also have an ulterior motive in watching them. Down the Hill wasn’t that interesting of a story, to be honest, but the image of the railroad bridge that ended on the other side with no more tracks is one that will stick with me for a while. (I’m in the process of writing a short story called “The Haunted Bridge”, so that also is kind of helpful in some ways.)

I think this morning–before I run my errands–I may rewatch Saltburn so I can finish my essay about it. This is one of the few movies in recent memory that really resonated with me as I watched, seeing layers and possibilities within the story that straight people apparently didn’t pick up on? Which is why I think it’s important for me to talk about it from a gay male perspective, which sounds rather arrogant now that I’ve written it down, doesn’t it? But the gay perspective is so often not covered in media, and it’s the kind of lens that straight people have trouble seeing. (Hint: the one film that Saltburn reminded me the most of is one that no one ever mentioned, which…renders a lot of the criticisms directed at the film moot? And why on earth did no one compare it to The Great Gatsby, another book/film about someone infiltrating the world of the rich?)

As you can see, my mind is waking up. I’ve noticed this week that my mind seems clearer than it has in a long time, and the fog I’ve been dealing with since having COVID in the summer of 2022 seems to have finally lifted. I made it through the week with energy and not feeling tired and getting things done, as though my Type A personality has finally reemerged from a years-long sabbatical. Which means…that it’s time to bring this to a close and head into the spice mines this morning. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll undoubtedly be back later.

Could It Be Forever?

Work-at-home Friday, and what a full day I have in front of me. I have work at home duties to get done, a telephone appointment, and an on-line team meeting today. After I am done with my work duties, I get to head over to the gym to work out on my own for the first time since 2022 (!!!), and at some point we’ll be doing a Costco run. Yesterday was a very good day; it was the first time in years that I woke up feeling rested and awake and good to go–and it lasted all day. I wasn’t tired when I got home, despite picking up the mail and making groceries. I hung out with Sparky, watched this week’s episode of Feud, and made notes for writing to come. I also typed up notes for other stories, so I could create computer files. Paul got home in time for me to spend a little time with him before going to bed, and I slept very well. Apparently, overnight Sparky figured out how to get on top of my dresser and started knocking everything off, so all my stuff was put inside a drawer. Sigh. He really is too smart for our own good. He’s lucky he’s both sweet and adorable.

I also have some thoughts about stuff that’s been going on in the world and in my publishing world lately. They aren’t fully formed and ready to be vocalized as of yet, but I figure those thoughts will come together and written about at some point over this weekend to come. This is my first normal weekend after three straight abnormal ones (two weekends of parades followed by a trip to Alabama), so while I am probably vastly over-estimating how much I can or will get done, I am hopeful that I’ll get a lot of it done. I was pleased yesterday to see how much I had gotten done off my to-do list without consulting it, and I am also already feeling alert and awake and no longer tired, either. This was how yesterday went, so here’s hoping that today will be the same: energy and mental acuity all day.

It would be nice to get all these blog entries in draft form finished, too. We shall see. Tomorrow I’ll be taking books and beads out to donate in the morning, swing past the post office most likely afterwards, and then come home to clean and write. I also want to rewatch Saltburn this weekend so I can finish that entry–which is also more of an essay abstract. And I did write some more on my short story “When I Die,” which is getting longer but has finally started getting to the good part. I also have four more “where the idea for this book come from” entries on the Chanse series to finish as well. I also have some other chores around here this morning I need to take care of during breaks–the dishes, some filing, and some laundry. There’s trash to take out, too, and I kind of want to really start making progress on the apartment. I want to get the floors done this weekend and I want to move furniture in the kitchen for cleaning and so forth, too. As I said, I am feeling ambitious about this weekend, and since I am not going into the weekend exhausted and needing rest…I have high hopes.

I also need to get my entry about Carol Goodman’s River Road finished. I really enjoyed it, and if you aren’t reading her books, the good news is it’s never too late to start and there’s a terrific backlist.

And on that note, a load of laundry is finished and needs to be folded, so I am heading into the spice mines for the day. No worries, I am sure I will be back again later, okay? Have a lovely Friday in the meantime!

Back Off Boogaloo

I realized while washing my face this morning that it’s Thursday already, which was an enormously satisfying moment. I was productive last night after work–shocking, right? I came straight home, played with Sparky for a bit, then folded laundry, unloaded the dishwasher, and straightened the kitchen up a bit. It’s always nice to come down to clean counters and a kitchen that doesn’t look like a natural disaster went through. I also slept really well and don’t feel groggy this morning (a little when I first got up, but my brain cleared very quickly). I’m also a bit excited this morning because I also did some decent writing work yesterday. Yay! Not many words were written, but a lot of figuring things out for these stories that hopefully I will finish tonight or tomorrow so I can move on to something else. I am really looking forward to this weekend, I must admit, and all the writing and cleaning to come.

I’ve also been ordering things for the house that hopefully will make things more organized and efficient around here. I got a shoe rack for the bedroom, a rolling cart to replace the little table next to my desk (with the intent of emptying some drawers to make more room for things), and several other things, too. I still need to order blinds for the kitchen and air filters, too.

What an exciting life I lead.

But it’s that very simplicity, that minutiae, that makes me feel like I am living my life again. I’m no longer going home from work, collapsing into my easy chair, and mindlessly letting Youtube videos play on continuously while I doom scroll through social media on my iPad, or dipping into a nonfiction ebook there. I’m beginning to get excited to be writing again, and realized, yet again, what a monumentally shit year 2023 was. I realized this morning that it really did start with me injuring my arm–which kept me out of the gym for well over a year now, and that snowballed my emotional state and life stability. Then came Mom, and yeah, it never really did get better over the course of the year….and of course the surgery was the final derailment. Creativity is overflowing my brain again, and I am trying to make sufficient notes and create the proper computer files so that nothing ever gets lost or forgotten ever again. I got so many ideas over the weekend in Alabama, and they’ve still continued coming since I got back, which is great.

I also made a phenomenal sandwich for dinner last night. I am eating somewhat healthier, and am hoping to keep that momentum going as I head back to the gym tomorrow morning in the first time in over a year. YIKES. But I am not going to be doing a whole lot, just focused shoulder/back/arm stuff, and I’ll have to ask my PT guy next Friday about other body parts. It would be hard to do chest or back, but what about legs? Inquiring minds want to know! But I can certainly do crunches, one would think. I am a bit excited about getting back to the gym, in case you couldn’t tell.

Tonight, I am going to pick up the mail and make a few groceries; then I am coming home to empty the dishwasher and do another load, do some more writing, and maybe organize beads and books to donate. I also need to get gas on the way home tonight, heavy heaving sigh. But I do kind of feel like I am starting to get a grasp on my life and entering a new normal period for me. Woo-hoo!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Thursday, Constant Reader, and you never know; I may be back later.