Tomorrow may be Hell

I mentioned in an earlier blog that I was going to write series of postings about my work as a writer.  I have published the first two novels in the Thomas O'Shea series with #3 to published, I'm told, in December.  I was working on #4 when I felt I was a bit stale, and besides, there was an idea for another novel, a different kind of novel, that my imagination thrust upon me. So I wrote it.  I don't like the working title, but I must say I am pleased with the novel.  It's in the genre called "upmarket fiction" which is supposed to be a combination of literary fiction and commercial fiction.  It's supposed to be 35 chapters.  I have written 34.  But I don't know how to finish the book.  So, I have gone back and revised, hoping to unlock the key to that elusive last chapter.

Nevertheless, the last three days have been very good writing days as I have struggled to make chapters better.  Neil Gaiman said, "Tomorrow may be hell, but today was a good writing day, and on the good writing days nothing else matters."

The last three days have been good writing days.  However, I must say that other things matter, so there.

After several hours writing and revising today, my brain is tired and I plan to take a nap, enjoy dinner with my bride, play with my dog, Lily, winner for the second consecutive year as "Best In The Universe" at the Intergalactic Dog Show on Pluto.  Maybe watch some episodes of "Hell on Wheels" on Netflix.  I recommend the gritty series about building the transcontinental railroad, a project I remember well, my 4th grade class taking a field trip to see the progress out of Council Bluffs, Iowa.

Writing is hard, but I love it.  More later on when and if I can write Chapter 35.

The Boy in the Bridal Boutique

Shortly after Christmas, my long-suffering wife and I drove to Florida for a visit with her sister's family in Melbourne. An unexpected highlight awaited. Given the choice of watching a bunch of men in shorts kicking each other's shins or accompanying my wife, her sister, and two nieces to The Bridal Boutique, I chose the latter.

I had wisely avoided such enterprises when my daughters married, so why was I going now? Well, my gifted, talented, lovely, witty, and brilliant niece is getting married in March. She had purchased a wedding gown and was going in for a fitting. Being a lifelong learner, I thought I'd tag along.

While Anna was getting fitted, I roamed around the estrogen-rich environment, looking at wedding gowns on a rack that extended about the length of a football field. The cheapest gown was $1,800, and they escalated into the low 4's. Off the rack. Above the rack were posters of the Bulemia All-Stars modeling various gowns. One young woman appeared to have failed in her attempt to escape vampires.

Backtracking to the front of the business, I proved useful in picking out the color for the Mother of the Bride dress. Blue. Later passed over for a mauve taupe sea mist stone aqua.

And even though Anna looked radiant in her tasteful gown, I just might pass when it's time for my niece Amy to visit the Bridal Boutique. And maybe give soccer another look.