Tag: writing

Run Riot

Wednesday Pay-the-Bills Day has rolled around yet again! Seems like it was just yesterday, doesn’t it? Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping into the future…sorry for the musical interlude1, but surely I cannot be the only one who writes a sentence that’s a song lyric and has the song itself crowd its way into my consciousness? My life has always had a soundtrack; music has always been important to me, and I love listening to it. I wish I had any musical ability, really. I can’t sing and I play no instruments…well, I can sing in the sense that we can all do so, but doing it well? That’s a whole other subject.

I found out this week that National Geographic included the Tennessee Williams Literary Festival/Saints & Sinners as one of the top literary festivals in the world! How fucking cool is that? If you want to see it, you can click above to get there. Paul is very good at his job, I have to say.

I wrote last night. It was editing/rewriting/revising work, so I don’t know how much work I actually did2, but the file was a couple of dozen words over four thousand when I started and when I finished, working from front to back (as one does), it was a few words past five thousand. Some came easily, some did not; but when it would be difficult I didn’t give up but thought some more and looked ahead and back and it worked, I got unstuck. It felt good to write, I didn’t once have a moment of doubting myself or Imposter Syndrome3, which really made me feel better about everything and good about myself. It’s easy to slip into depression and bad thoughts when I am not writing, or am having difficulty with it. I am also looking forward to getting back to work tonight after work as well.

I have to run errands tonight on the way home from work; I’d rather not, to be honest, but we’re halfway through the week and said errands will cut down on leaving the house on the weekend, which is looming. Now that I am getting back into my writing every day I hope to get a lot done this weekend. I’d love to work through the month of August–despite the heat and tropical weather–so I can get everything finished by Labor Day so I can spend September figuring out what to write next. I also have a lot of short stories I need to revise and rework and get out on submission somewhere…anywhere.

We had a nice thunderstorm last night as I finished my writing work; thunder and lightning and a downpour, none of which were mentioned in the forecast. The heat advisory is still in place, and today’s forecast was updated to include a thunderstorm later this morning, and throughout the afternoon. Clearly the forecast changed since yesterday morning, as the rain was for later in the week. AH, well, I don’t mind rain as long as I am not out in it. Paul was home late–he waited to come home until the storm passed–and so we watched another episode of The Hunting Wives, which continues to be a trashy joy on the lines of classic television like Dynasty or Melrose Place. I actually hope Paul will be home earlier so we can watch two episodes tonight. Dermot Mulroney is also aging like a really fine wine…

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines and need to start paying bills. Have a great day, and I may be back later. You never know.

I’m developing a crush on handsome Will Sharpe.
  1. I’m also rediscovering my enjoyment of the Steve Miller Band. ↩︎
  2. I always measure it by word counts. ↩︎
  3. I am trying to not be so hard on myself, and Imposter Syndrome is one of those things that needs to be in the rearview mirror. ↩︎

Don’t Shoot Shotgun

Goodbye, ruby Tuesday! We’re still having a heat advoisory today, and at this point I am trying to remember the last time we weren’t in one. I slept well again last night, and again didn’t want to get out of my comfy bed this morning. Ah, well, get over it, Gregalicious. I had a good day at work yesterday and got a lot done; but once I was home my ambitious plans for the evening fell by the wayside yet again as I provided a cat bed for Sparky and actually fell asleep for a little over an hour! That never happens. I did get some work done last night before falling asleep, and I am hoping that I’ll get some more done tonight. I am not going to be hard on myself because part of this new leaf/new stage in my life is being kinder to myself when I don’t live up to my own expectations.

We’ll see how that goes.

I also wrote two more entries, about the short stories I contributed to a couple of anthologies that are about to drop, and that felt kind of good, you know? I reread the stories for the first time since copy edits and you know, they are pretty good stories, and I am very pleased to be in anthologies with such terrific writers surrounding me. I also sent out a newsletter, about my reread of The Dark on the Other Side by Barbara Michaels, so yeah, I did get some writing done yesterday. I usually don’t count the blog and the newsletter as writing work, but they really are so I really should, shouldn’t I? It’s sometimes hard to believe I’ve been blogging since December of 2004–so blogging will be turning twenty-two later this year. Since I will also be 64 shortly, that’s about a third of my life. And now I’ve been a published author longer than I was not, if that makes sense? I’ve been a published author over half of my life now.

A definite milestone.

It’s also nice to feel reconnected to writing again, which is something I just realized that I am feeling again after a very lengthy period of not feeling connected to it, if that makes sense? I barely remember the beginning of this year. anything before I got sick is just kind of a blur nowadays, but I do know the writing of the new book wasn’t going well–and I was really exhausted going into getting sick, which made writing even harder. I don’t remember last year a lot, either. My memory is rather pathetic these days, and I am having trouble remembering things I should know. (While watching Wicked the other afternoon I could not remember Michelle Yeoh’s name to save my life; I wound up looking it up on my phone.) But this morning I feel like of course I can get all this stuff done, which is a lovely feeling and one I’ve not had for a considerable time.

We started watching The Hunting Wives last night on Netflix, based on the recommendation of a co-worker, and while we only watched the opening, pilot episode, it seems like the kind of soap operatic melodrama I often can’t get enough of (see past addictions to All My Children, General Hospital, Dynasty, and Melrose Place) and I am really looking forward to the rest of this first season. I went straight home after work last night, no stops anywhere, and while I may not have gotten any chores done (I need to empty and reload the dishwasher, and there’s clothes in the dryer) but the straightening I did this weekend is still holding firm. I may go straight home tonight, too–I need to have some things either picked up at the grocery, or delivered–and I can wait to go by the postal service tomorrow on the way home.

So, once I make it through my day job, I can get straight home and get to work on the chores before settling in to do some writing. I’ve promised a short story to an anthology–I already have two that with a bit of revising would be perfect–so I need to get back on those revisions, and I still have some other writing to get done that I really need to get done by Friday as a preference, Monday as a last ditch effort.

So, on that optimistic note, I am going to head into the spice mines this fine hot Tuesday morning. Stay cool wherever you are, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back later or tomorrow morning to check in with you again!

Rhinestone Cowboy

Tennessee Williams is kind of responsible for my career, in a very indirect way. Sounds impressive, doesn’t it? But it’s true, even if he had been dead almost two decades.

When we first moved to New Orleans, Paul got a job working for the Grants Director of the Arts Council of New Orleans, and at that time, the Tennessee Williams New Orleans Literary Festival had an office in the Arts Council’s suite. Paul got to know the director, and he convinced me to volunteer with him at the 1997 Festival…which was my introduction to the world of the book/writing festival/conference. I had the best time. That first year I met so many authors, and they were so kind and lovely. I volunteered again the next year, after Paul was hired part time (he left the Arts Council), and that was the year I met the author who would offer to mentor me. Three years later, I had a book contract and had sold some short stories and there was no turning back for one Gregalicious at that point.

So, yes, Tennessee Williams had a hand in the establishment of my career as a professional writer. I began reading the plays again, and started using quotes from them as epigraphs for my books.

It was a no-brainer when John Copenhaver asked me to contribute to this anthology to write about Tennessee Williams, even if it wound up being kind of peripheral to the story itself. The anthology is up for preorders everywhere, or you can preorder from Bywater here.

There was a little brass plaque on the next to the table the host showed me to.

The plaque was below an enormous tinted picture window looking down Dauphine Street. Engraved on the face were the words “TENNESSEE’S TABLE.” The host offered me a menu as I sat in a chair facing the door, placing another down on the setting across from me. “Why Tennessee’s Table?” I asked. “Are there tables for Alabama and Mississippi, too?” 

I was joking, but in my two months in New Orleans thus far I’d found there were historic markers pretty much everywhere you looked. The others explained why the place was historic, but this one had no explanation, no words in smaller type below explaining why it was there.

This meant there was a story behind the plaque. I was also finding out the city had a story about almost everything.

His grin exposed a chipper incisor. “Tennessee is for Tennessee Williams, the playwright,” he explained, adding, “He loved the Quarter Scene and had lunch here every day he was in town. This was his favorite table, and he’d just call whenever he’d get in and let them know, so they’d reserve it for him. They put the plaque up after he died.” He winked. “We get a lot of Williams tourists who like to trace his steps—I guess to commune with his spirit, maybe? The plaque makes it easier for them.”

And less hassle for the staff, I added mentally.

I’d heard of Tennessee Williams. He’d also been out and proud when that could have been career and social suicide. The name brought up memories of chalk dust, a cold classroom in winter, and canned dry hot air. We must have studied him in high school. A Streetcar Named Desire and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, I think the plays were? I’d slept with a Williams scholar once, on a vacation in Honolulu. I’d met him on the beach. He had a stack of non-fiction books piled up on his nightstand for a paper he was writing, pages marked by a forest of Post-It notes.

You see the peripheral connection in that excerpt, don’t you? That’s all Tennessee had to do with my story, other than a later mention.

That table and plaque did exist. The Quarter Scene closed and was replaced by Eat, but it now called the Quarter Scene again. I don’t know if the plaque is still up by his table or not, but I always sat there whenever I ate there.

Years ago, when we first moved here, I started working on two novels. One became Murder in the Rue Dauphine, the other was a kind of Tales of the City kind of thing about three young gay men who rented apartments around a courtyard in the Quarter, with an older gay man living in the main house and kind of being a mentor to them all. I called that one The World is Full of Ex-Lovers, and began putting it together by writing short stories. One of those stories was called “Tennessee’s Table,” and that was what I immediately thought of when casting about in my head to write a Tennessee Williams inspired kind of story. I dug it out of the files–it was dreadful–and threw everything out except the very opening with the main character arriving at the Quarter Scene to meet someone for lunch. I also realized that this story would actually work in a longer project I am also writing–a book set in 1994 New Orleans called Never Kiss a Stranger, and so I wrote that story with the idea that I could insert it into the novel manuscript.

I am kind of pleased with it, to tell you the truth. It’s called “The Rhinestone.”

And just look at this contributors’ list!

A pretty impressive table of contents!

Have you preordered your copy yet?

Spirit in the Sky

I have written another Alabama story! It will be in the Crippen & Landru anthology Double Crossing Van Dine, which you can preorder right here. My story is called “The Spirit Tree,” which was a lot of fun to write, and am very excited that the anthology will release later this month/early September. I again got an editing credit (along with Donna Andrews and Art Taylor, both of whom do a lot more work than I do on these books), and I do absolutely love that cover.

Isn’t this a great cover?

Turn right on Simmons Road and in a half mile, your destination will be on the right.

Tom Forrester slowed his official State Bureau of Investigation SUV and glanced in the rearview mirror. Nothing behind him but blacktop state highway back to the S curve he’d just negotiated. He flipped on the turn signal and made the turn onto a back road. It stretched out before him, a narrow expanse of red dirt and gravel down to the bottom of a hollow and climbing back up the other side. He was getting a headache and wished again he’d asked for someone to come with him. He’d never been to Corinth County before, hadn’t even driven through it. Yes, it was in his district, but it was remote. At least an hour to the nearest interstate. Outsiders had to want to come to Corinth County to get there.

It amazed him that there were still these random remote counties all over the deep South, seemingly untouched by the outside world.

But the county seat, for all its population of about three thousand, had a Wal-Mart and a McDonalds, and almost every house or trailer he’d seen from the road had a satellite dish either in the yard or affixed to the building. Was anything truly remote anymore?

The road wasn’t wide enough for two cars, so he hoped he didn’t meet anyone coming from the other direction. A cloud of red dust followed closely behind the vehicle. At the bottom of the hollow there was a small stream flowing through corrugated iron beneath the pitiful road. And he noticed a rusty barbed wire fence running along the front of the pine forest on the left side, caught a glimpse of a rusted tin roof surrounded by overgrowth.

It looked…familiar.

Not a bad start, right?

The anthology also has an impressive table of contents:

You can find Van Dine’s commandments (there are twenty) here, if you want to look them up.

Mine was: The problem of the crime must be solved by strictly naturalistic means. Such methods for learning the truth as slate-writing, ouija-boards, mind-reading, spiritualistic séances, crystal-gazing, and the like, are taboo. A reader has a chance when matching his wits with a rationalistic detective, but if he must compete with the world of spirits and go chasing about the fourth dimension of metaphysics, he is defeated ab initio.

So, yes, like I did in the last anthology of this nature that I was in, chose supernatural/occult as my way of breaking said rule. I’ve done this before, of course, in novels; two subgenres I prefer are crime and horror–and I do love crossing/blurring the lines between the two of them.

Several years ago (it may have been last year; my grasp of time isn’t the best anymore) I read a book called Salvation on Sand Mountain, about snake-handlers in north Alabama (I’d also watched a documentary called Alabama Rattlesnake) which reminded me of a bit of country magic. When I was a little boy–a very little boy–I remember visiting someone in Alabama–and there was a small tree beside the front porch, with bottles slipped over the ends and catching the sun in colorful flashes and making tinkling sounds when the wind blew the branches together. I asked, and was told it was a ‘spirit tree,’–the sound of the bottles kept evil spirits and ghosts out of the house. I’d forgotten about it until I read it in the book, and I remembered it all very clearly.

So, I sat down and wrote an opening scene, in which a state investigator is going to a crime scene, and when he gets there, there’s a spirit tree beside the porch. I had no idea what to do with the story–how to finish it, who was murdered and why, etc.–and it went into the files. When I was asked for a story (and a by-line credit) for this anthology, I looked for the supernatural rule, claimed it, and pulled out “The Spirit Tree.”

Yes, it’s another Corinth County story, like Bury Me in Shadows and “Smalltown Boy” and “The Ditch,” not connected to the others by anything other than location, really, but it’s location is pretty much everything!

Hope you enjoy it–and the rest of the contributors are exceptional writers, so I know you’ll enjoy theirs, too! What are you waiting for? PRE ORDERS ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED!

Love and Affection

Sunday morning, how are you doing this morning? Shockingly, Sparky let me sleep super-late this morning, so I am beginning the day already feeling behind, which…is just anxiety I need to let go of, isn’t it? Yesterday was pleasant. Paul ended up rescheduling his trainer from yesterday to today, so I didn’t have the alone time I thought I’d have. I did spend some time with Megan Abbott’s superb new novel, and I did some chores for sure, but overall I didn’t feel like I managed much. We watched a couple of movies, and then started watching the second season of Shiny Happy People, which focuses on the “Christian” cult of Teen Mania.

Seriously, freedom of religion is important, but sometimes it gets taken too far. Sexual abuse of children under the guise of “religion” should be a dealbreaker, period, regardless of religion. How much money has the Catholic Church paid out in settlements for child rapist priests? Madness. And yet, the raping and covering up continues, unabated….while the Church maintains it has moral authority over its flock.

We rewatched Jaws yesterday; I can’t remember the last time I saw it, but I very much remember the first time I saw it: Mom took us after church shortly after it opened, and the only three seats together in the theater was in the center front row, so the screen was right there in front of us–and it was terrifying. The movie is very well-made, the performances of everyone other than Brody’s wife were terrific, and it very much followed the formula of the classic disaster movie–officials, worried about money, ignore the experts and open the beaches anyway, which leads to more death–only with a very big audience so the existence of said enormous shark is no longer in question. It’s also a monster movie, so when we finished we watched Wolf Man, which wasn’t great but wasn’t as terrible as reviews and commentators made it sound. Julia Garner is always terrific (loved loved loved her in Ozark), and it was entertaining enough. I thought the suspense was good and the story itself was pretty simple; I don’t think the prologue was necessary but other than that, it was a solid B score from me.

I had groceries delivered yesterday, and this new modern-day experience is one that I quite enjoy. It’s much easier to go on an app, order the food, and then wait for it to be delivered, rather than getting cleaned up and dressed and driving around town then having to do the shopping myself once I get to the store. One delivery came around noon, and the other arrived about half an hour later, which was marvelous. There are some other things I forgot to order, but they can all wait until I go to the store (or order again) on Wednesday on the way home from work. I am trying to decide if I want to make Swedish meatballs today, or ravioli, or any of the other options there are in the house today.

And obviously, I have a lot of reading, writing, and editing to get done today. I need to make a fresh to-do list, and one set of cabinets really needs to be better organized. I also need to find a place to store the endless boxes of tissues we got at Costco the last time we went. I also have some filing to do; when I finish this I’ll probably go watch some news and read until I feel like getting to work. Reading is often a risk because Sparky will see me in the chair as an invitation to sleep in my lap, and once the cat starts sleeping it’s all over for me. In my own defense, he’s awfully cute and sweet. I am so happy he’s more comfortable around us and more affectionate–he loves riding on my shoulders–and he’s also, after months, decided his cat bed is a perfect sleeping spot.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the morning. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; if not, it will be tomorrow morning. Until then, ta!

Anubis

Armageddon It

Saturday, another heat advisory, and who knows if there will be thunderstorms today? There were some yesterday, apparently, but not here. It was a nice day, to be honest. I had my work meeting in the morning, did my at-home work, picked up my medication (I still can’t believe how much it costs) and then returned home where I did some chores around the house and some serious organization. My desk is pristine, uncluttered and lovely to look at–like something out of a magazine shoot for an article about a writer. I also worked on the laundry room some–as well as doing all the bed linens and three loads of clothes (I wish I were making that up). I did a load of dishes that needs putting away so I can put another load into the dishwasher.

I was quite the 1950s housewife yesterday, wasn’t I?

I also felt good for most of the day–rested, not fatigued, cheerful and no mind mush–which I hope is a lovely sign for today. I’m going to order groceries to be delivered so I don’t have to go anywhere today, and keep working on the house while writing here at my oh-so clean desk. I slept really well again last night and feel terrific this morning. The coffee is delicious this morning and I am about to make some toast to go with it. Paul has his trainer and then is going to do the treadmill for a few hours, so I’ll pretty much have the entire afternoon here alone to myself, which will enable me to focus and get a lot done. Yay me! I also intend to spend some time with Megan Abbott’s book this morning, as well as the other books I am currently in the midsts of; I also want to write some more on newsletters and get one–probably the one about Vicki Barr–sent out. I just ordered some groceries, and I’ll order some more from Instacart later on from the Fresh Market, too.

The excitement never stops.

We finished watching Untamed last night, which was very entertaining. Yosemite is beautiful, as always, and there were some shots of great heights and sheer drops that made me squirm a bit. Eric Bana is terrific in the least as a Federal agent for the park who is still grieving the death of his young son and the end of his marriage. I’m an Eric Bana fanboy, and he’s aging incredibly well, too, I might add. It was very interesting, and I also enjoyed the rest of the cast as well, who were terrific in their roles. As I said the other day, it reminded me of visits to the towns outside of Yosemite, where friends were from–Sonora, Coarsegold, Oakhurst–and those friends as well. I’m itching to write about the mountains again–I’d intended to do another Woodbridge novel, but somehow never got around to it, like so many others in the files. I was thinking last night about how I need to prune the books again because I know I won’t live long enough to read all the books in the house…and just realized again that I will never live long enough to write all the books, stories, and essays I have ideas for–let alone the ones I’ve started but never finished. It’s a bit depressing, but it also means I need to be a lot more selective about what I read and what I write–and I need to do more of both.

But in order to do so, I need to finish this and repair to my chair with El Dorado Drive before I start cleaning and organizing before getting cleaned up for the day. Have a lovely Saturday wherever you are, Constant Reader, and stay cool somehow in this massive heat wave developing this weekend. I’ll be here again tomorrow morning, okay?

Pour Some Sugar on Me

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week. I slept well again last night–didn’t want to get out from under my pile of blankets this morning, yet again–and we also had an amazing thunderstorm last night. Lightning was very close, the thunder rolled for what seemed like forever, and twice the power fluttered on and off before I went to bed. I had a good day at work yesterday–got a lot done there–and picked up the mail on the way home and there was plenty of it, too. This weather is the return of the system that was supposed to flood us this past weekend; it made a U-turn and basically came back. There’s no flood watch or anything, so it’s not as scary this time around, methinks. I did some chores when I got home before my usual catch-up on the news, and once Paul got home we started watching Untamed. We were on our second episode of the evening when the power blinked out then back on the first time, and it took forever for the wireless server to come back on line–Netflix is always slow to load, too–so we gave up for the evening. We’ll probably finish the show in another night or two, and then will have to find something new to watch again. Huzzah.

I am also still reeling a bit from how much my bi-monthly medication costs (#madness). It’s almost two hundred thousand dollars per year. Granted, that also includes the cost of the injection device that I have to attach to myself every eight weeks (I thought it was four; this is much better on me). It is on its way, and should be arriving sometime Friday at the postal service, so I can pop it into the refrigerator and keep it there until I need it in September. I have to go to the service on Friday anyway; I received the title pages for Double Crossing Van Dine anthology to sign (my co-editors, Donna Andrews and Art Taylor, have already signed them; I’m last to go) for the clothbound edition of the anthology. My story “The Spirit Tree,” is another Alabama story, for the record; yet another return to Corinth County! So one of the things I need to do either tonight or tomorrow morning is sign them.

Apparently I need to watch last night’s episode of South Park? Social media is completely abuzz with clips and general hilarity about this new episode, which targets Dumble-dumb. Something to stream while bonding with my precious Sparky tonight, at any rate. I also need to check my to-do list as well as make a more comprehensive one for the weekend. I have plenty of work to do at home tomorrow, of course, and lots of chores and writing and editing and cleaning to do around that, as always. I am trying to get my email inbox cleaned out, and I also need to do some studying on things. I don’t think I have to sign up for Medicare before I actually retire or stop working, according to what I have read, which is kind of a relief; I’d rather not deal with that frustrating red tape until I actually have to, you know?

Insurance shouldn’t be this crazy and complicated and irritating, frankly.

Neither should life.

I also want to get another newsletter out–either about the recent trend by gymbros to build up a beautiful butt1, or my one about the kids’ series featuring Vicki Barr, (pre-feminist) stewardess! I also owe a gazillion emails…sigh.

And on that note, it’s off to the spice mines with me. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I will be back in the morning.

The Temple of Poseidon
  1. So much of a gym trend that Men’s Health published an article about it! ↩︎

Women

Wednesday morning blog and we’re halfway through the week. I feel decent this morning, not overly tired or fatigued or brain mushy, but awake and good. My stomach is bothering me a bit this morning, but I’m not dehydrated and this doesn’t feel like a colitis flare-up–at least not so far. I slept well, and did get some things done last night when I got home. I put away the dishes, made lunches for the rest of the week, cleaned off the counters, and did some filing. We also watched another episode of Untamed, which we are enjoying. It was a pretty mellow night, with Paul getting home later than I would prefer. I also balanced my checkbook (I have more money than I thought I did, and the more money is accurate, not my register balance–I deducted a couple of things twice), and got caught up on the news–always a depressing thing no matter how little of it I catch up on. I do love seeing MAGA being hoisted on their own petard, don’t you? The people screaming about pedophiles and grooming and Jeffrey Epstein for the last ten years are suddenly all about protecting groomers and pedophiles when their foul god turns out to be one of them…but they’ve always been all-in on hypocrisy.

There are few things I despise more than hypocrisy. I especially hate it when I’m doing it.

I dealt with the specialty pharmacy yesterday to get my injection stuff sent to me yesterday–turns out it’s only every two months that I need to use the injection device to infuse my anti-colitis medication (or whatever it is), which will be interesting. I don’t need it until September, as I have one more infusion to do first, and then a month later I start using the disposable device they’ll be sending me. (I also saw the bill they sent my insurance company –almost thirty thousand dollars! I don’t know if that is for the two infusions, or for the device they’re sending me (I suspect it is for the device, because the infusion charges would come from my GTI specialist since they are done in his office), but yikes!

Thank God that’s not coming out of my pocket…I guess uninsured people just die. I mean, it’s almost two hundred grand per year for the rest of my life, which I certainly do not have.

Sigh. I suppose I should consider myself lucky that I’ve not really had to deal with health issues until I turned sixty.

I’ve also been remiss in not talking about upcoming things, haven’t I? I have about three short stories in anthologies that are all dropping in the next two months, and I am also hosting a Noir at the Bar the Thursday of Bouchercon weekend, which I should be talking about and promoting, and should be bringing more attention to the anthologies. My bad! I know I’ve mentioned the stories before–“The Rhinestone” in Crime Ink: Iconic; “The Last To See Him Alive” in Celluloid Crimes; and “The Spirit Tree” in Double Crossing Van Dine–but I should at least post a TOC and the release dates…which means actually finding out when the release dates are. I am so bad at this, oy. I promise I will get better!

I also need to start looking into Medicare and signing up for that and so on. Heavy sigh. I really hate being an adult.

Okay, on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in on you tomorrow.

To Turn You On

And today, Paul and I celebrate our thirtieth (gulp) anniversary. YIKES. On August 1, we celebrate moving to New Orleans twenty-nine years ago–and then nineteen days later, I turn sixty-four (cue the Beatles). We are going to a matinee of Superman today–the plans are absolutely definite now–and then we’ll come home and relax. Sparky let me sleep in late this morning, which was much appreciated, and now I am awake and drinking coffee and being a bit reflective.

I had a nice day yesterday. I ran my errands and got home again in less than an hour; and I got a lot of the chores done. There’s still some things that need to be done today, but that’s okay. My kitchen sink and dishwasher are empty and the counters are clear. The laundry is all finished and put away, too. There’s still some things I need to get done today, but that’s okay. I didn’t really read anything yesterday other than things I’ve written–short stories and the Chlorine manuscript–in preparation to get to work on all of these things this week. I feel good this morning, good and rested, so I feel like I am going to be able to get some stuff done today before getting cleaned up and heading out for the movie. It’s gorgeous outside today–the sky is blue and the sun is shining, which probably means it’s in the nineties and feels like over a hundred; we’re going into heat advisories this week, too.

We are in what they used to call the dog days of summer–although I have no idea where that phrase actually came from.

We also finished America’s Sweethearts yesterday–and was very glad to see that the cheerleaders got their raise, and a significant one at that. I’ve always thought, based on the success of their branding over the last fifty years, that they were underpaid and very taken advantage of by the Cowboys organization. It’s a full time job, and they give up a lot of control over their own lives by dreaming to put on that barely-more-than-a-bikini uniform. I’d love to know how the cheerleaders were manifested into what they are today–a brand recognized worldwide, and how the decision was made to to pick those costumes and how they are handled and the rules they live by were developed. I know it happened in the 1970s; I wasn’t really much of a fan because I thought they were being overly sexualized to appeal to the male audience. The one takeaway from watching the show when it was originally on TNN was how the cheerleaders were depicted in that classic Madonna/whore thing: they wear revealing costumes that emphasize their bodies, yet they are all young women who seem to be very chaste and virginal, even the ones that are married or have boyfriends…which always struck me as a bit exploitative.

The two women who run the team, Kelli Finglass and Judy Trammell, are blunt to the point of being rude bitches at time, and the depth of their devotion (each have spent over forty years with the team) to the high standards they want for their performers is kind of impressive, if sometimes over the top (I do find myself thinking from time to time while viewing, “that was just rude” or “Kelli, you could have been a bit more diplomatic there”) and there are some interesting gender politics at play with the show, too–the women are all dressed and made-up to draw the male gaze, yet behind the scenes they are very sweet and supportive of each other to the point that someone cynical (like me) has to wonder how much of it is an act for the cameras. I mean, there’s no conflict between the girls, no personality clashes? But it’s also refreshing–after years of watching reality television and drama manufactured for the cameras for ratings so women can scream at each other–to see women’s relationships depicted as a sisterhood, like a sorority; and sometimes how the group reacts to things looks very sorority-minded. It’s kind of nice to see, actually; women supporting women.

And while I wonder about disordered eating and body dysmorphia for them, based on the pressures placed on them to remain slim yet voluptuous, my favorite quote from Kelli is her saying bluntly to one hopeful at training camp, “The uniform is very unforgiving.”

She wasn’t lying.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

Avalon

Many years ago, Anya Seton published a terrific historical novel set in pre-1066 England and titled Avalon. The title was a throwback to the female lead character’s bloodline; she was descended from King Arthur and thus part of the English royal family. I loved Anya Seton (Green Darkness remains one of my favorite books to this day)–it’s been a while since I’ve revisited her work, but maybe I should…her books are soooo long, though! Anyway, Avalon is an island from the Arthur mythology…I suppose this is where I admit I’ve never read anything about King Arthur other than the Mary Stewart novels, but I enjoyed those so much I never really felt much of a need to read anything else Arthurian1. For those of you who missed the 1980s, Roxy Music recorded an album titled Avalon, and the title song was gorgeous…as is the entire album, which I’ve been listening to lately. It still, for the record, holds up.

The tropical system turned out to be not much of anything here in New Orleans, but it was rough where it did rain and flood. Yesterday–which was supposed to be the worst of it–was gorgeous for most of the day. After work, we did go to Costco and then I had dinner with a good friend at Saba, which was lovely. My Lyft drivers in both directions were pretty great, too–which was very lovely. The meal was terrific, and I allowed myself a single cocktail–A Dionysus Revival, which was an interesting mix of tequila, cucumber, and mild ancho chili; it was delicious. I also did chores yesterday around working, and the kitchen–which still needs some work–looks so much better this morning than it did yesterday morning, and that makes me very happy this morning. NO DISHES!

I hope to have a good day today, I have some errands to run around noon (mail, make a little groceries), but other than that I am home for the day. We’ll probably watch some more of America’s Sweethearts later, too. I’m not entirely sure why this show fascinates us both so much–there’s definitely a camp quality to it–but it just sucks us in every time we start watching. We, of course, are old school–we used to watch this on TNN when it was called Making the Team, and you can tell Netflix spends more money on the show than TNN ever did. My coffee is tasting marvelous this morning, Sparky let me sleep a little later than usual, and I feel very good this morning. My sinuses are behaving and I don’t have the headache that’s plagued me for the last couple of weeks. I’m also going to spend some time with the new Megan Abbott and my other current reads. Tomorrow we are going to go see Superman, which I am absolutely looking forward to seeing. Reader, there will be a newsletter about my almost life-long love of the character.

I am also hoping to get some writing done today as well. It’s about time for me to get back in the saddle again–and every day that passes when I don’t climb up on that horse again is time slipping through my fingers. It’s creeping up on football season, too–which is going to make it harder to be productive on the weekends, like it always does. I need to clean off my desk and do the floors here in the kitchen, which will be my housework for the day; and I’ll pick up in the living room later on.

Such an exciting life I lead, right?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow morning.

  1. I did watch Camelot–we saw it in the theater when I was really young. I tried rewatching it during the pandemic, but couldn’t get through it. I’ll never understand why they didn’t cast Julie Andrews as Guinevere, since she’d played it on stage. ↩︎