Category: Writing

  • ODDS and ENDS: Goodnight Tottenham, Goals, and Memorial Day Weekend

    (Sorry, Tennessee)

    And thus the 2022/23 Tottenham Hotspur season comes to a close. Sadly, just as I thought, Spurs lost their last home match to a clearly on the rise Brentford. Though Harry Kane had one of the most amazing goals I had seen in a very long time, it was all for not… This Sunday the Premiere League comes to an end, which has Tottenham playing an away match against Leeds. Though Leeds is sitting at second to last on the table, they do have something to play for. If they get a win with a Leicester loss or tie, and Everton loss, then Leeds will avoid relegation. So, as per normal for this season, Tottenham will lose this match. Which is an awful thing to say, but on paper, Spurs should win this one, no question. But they seem to give away all the easy matches. Then the real humiliation would be Brentford beating Man City (And Man City won the League, so they have nothing to play for) thus causing Tottenham to fall to 9th. Oof! What a season. I guess I’ll wait and see what this Summer brings, with a new manager and players, and also, let’s see who sticks around. In the meantime, I got European qualifying, MLS, and the Women’s World Cup.

    I do have two small goals for today. I want to finish up two flash pieces that I have been working on. AND, I want to submit to a couple of more online journals. I’ve been trying to do this all week, and today is the day.

    Memorial Day Weekend snuck up on me. Actually, all holidays this year have snuck up on me. I feel like I am running behind on all of this stuff. But being as it is Friday morning, we won’t be leaving the City. Also, it’s Taylor Swift Weekend at the Meadowlands, so stay the hell away from the George Washington Bridge and Northern New Jersey. One day, I just might get my life organized enough to plan a getaway for the family, and make a four-day weekend out of it. Until that, I just might be drinking a beer on the roof of my building.

  • What Does Malcolm Gladwell Know, Anyway…?

    I will be house husbanding it today.

    I also think the words, house husband should be spelled “house-husband,” but autocorrect disagrees with me. English is a strange language which never stops evolving.

    And when I say that I will be house husbanding “it” what that really means is I have a bunch of errands to run around the city for the family. Every now and then, a day like is emerges and I have to put a bunch of other things that I would like to do on the back burner. Life is about trade-offs, and today, I will be living the trade-off.

    But, one thing that I won’t let myself skip out on is putting down at least 250 words daily. I have been a little lax on the blog since the start of the year. I would post Monday through Friday, with occasional holiday breaks. But since the start of the year, it has been closer to four post a week. I still journal every day, which is how I normally hit my 250-word quota. A good day is 1,000 words, and bad day is 250.

    You know, I started all of this back in 2019. I’m four years into this plan. Outside of my marriage, this is the longest commitment I have ever maintained. I started to think the other day that I should be closing in on my Gladwell 10,000 hours. Now if I do some simple math, like saying that I write about 3 hours a day, on average for 21 days a month, for four years now which means…

    I’ve put in 3,024 hours…

    So… I guess I’m still in my beginner phase.

    You know, Gladwell said that the 10,000 hours was just a guideline, not a hard rule.

    Yeah…

    I need to get going on my errands.

  • Short Story Review: “Long Island” by Nicole Krauss

    (The short story “Long Island” by Nicole Krauss appeared in the May 22nd, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)

    (I’m gun’na try not to, but beware of SPOILERS!)

    Illustration by Javi Aznarez

    There are no rules to writing. None. Whoever told you that you had write something in a certain way was lying to you. You can write whatever you want, about anything you want… provided you are good at it.

    Such as, you can’t start a story with a huge run-on sentence, and then spend the next couple of paragraphs just describing things with no narrative direction.

    Sure you can. Nicole Krauss did it in her story “Long Island.”

    Maybe it was supposed to be a “memory” story, because it’s not like this was stream of consciousness, but the story had the feeling of a memoir, what life was like out on Long Island in the late 70’s. This is a story of memory, experience, and all stirred up with a healthy bit of reflection and comparison.

    I enjoyed this piece of fictional nostalgia; of a time and a place that will not exist anymore. An upper middle-class family that lived in Sutton Place, who bought and renovated an estate on a hill, and then moved into this suburban world. There is nothing normal or average about this family – they are privileged due to their money, but are presented here as normal, mainstream and as average as anyone else. But when you are a kid, you just assume the way you live is that – normal, and like everyone else. Krauss doesn’t labor this point, but only on reflection of this story, did it dawn on me. This story lulled me, and I enjoyed that aspect.

    I like how the excuse to leave New York City for the suburbs was to escape the crime in the city. Yet, the neighborhood they moved into is filled with criminals. At least the socially acceptable gossipy kind of criminals who commit their crimes behind closed doors, and are dutifully punished. Yet, the narrator understands that this just the crime they know about.

    I was entertained by this story. This wasn’t life changing fiction, but it didn’t waste my time. I like how Krauss compared her disinterested parents parenting with her generations over parenting, and how neither system seems to be creating better children. Yet both generation of parents tried in their own ways to keep the evils of the world at bay. In the end, a form of evil always found its way in.

    Nicole Krauss crafted a story that didn’t follow the hero cycle, or a traditional plot/climax formula. What functioned as the rise in action/climax made sense with the story’s logic, which worked well to give the piece a release of tension that created the felling of resolution. Now, it did have a “Dead Chick in the Basket*” last paragraph, which I don’t want to say too much about as to not spoil the story, but I don’t think it added anything to the ending or point of the story. But that’s my only criticism here.

    In the end, “Long Island” played with form and story, and kept me engaged and on my toes. And it made me think about parents and how they tried their best. And it also reminded me that when you are a good writer, there are no rules if you can tell a good story.

    *  “Dead Chick in the Basket” refers to a clichéd writing device where the final paragraph of a short story contains new information about a character which is meant to make the reader view the actions, statements, or feelings of that character in a different light. The first known use of this device was in J.D. Salinger’s short story “Just Before the War with the Eskimos.”

  • There’s No Money in the Media

    VICE filed for bankruptcy. I’m not surprised. VICE was the only media company I knew that no one read or watched. Hold on, except for Desus and Mero. But outside of that, I never met another person who was like, “I just read this piece on VICE,” or “Did you see that story on VICE news?”

    Nope.

    Not a once.

    Oh, I did see Shane Smith everywhere, talking about how great and important VICE was. As far as I can tell, Shane made Williamsburg worse, by putting VICE’s headquarters there, and Shane also paid himself a huge, unreasonable salary while paying his writers barely above nothing with a side of free exposure.

    And don’t forget that one of the co-founders of VICE went on to found the Proud Boys. So… that says something…

    Yet, when I read that they never turned a profit, and were forced to file for bankruptcy, thus the sense was made; It was all hype, with no substance.

    I don’t mean to dance on VICE’s grave, and I do feel bad for the writer who will get laid off, but Shane Smith drove that ship onto the ground, and he’s still going to walk off a millionaire. And I though Canadians were all nice and shit.

    But the truth of this situation, which is the same truth that has been around forever, is that there is no money to be made in media, unless you own a lot of media. My first day as a journalism major, the professor told us there is no money to be made being a journalist. (Incidentally, on the first day of film and theatre school, those respective professors said the exact same thing.) I find it very strange that there is no way to make a living wage in media, but somehow the richest people in the world are in media.

    Has no one else noticed this?

    Well, outside of people in the WGA, that is…

  • Endless/Nameless

    I should be writing. A focused writing, where I have a clear idea that I am fleshing out. I should at least be writing a draft – a draft of this blog.

    But I am not.

    This is a fluff piece, as I cannot get my mind to focus.

    See, I did the family grocery shopping this morning, which took more out of me than I expected, and as I sit on the couch, computer in my lap… I just can’t get the act of writing to happen.

    (This is a forced act. An illusion. It appears that I am writing something, but I am just running out the clock to get to 250 to 500 words in the next twenty-one minutes.)

    I thought I could write about the politics of the current moment, or the never-ending gun violence that’s slowing making this nation callous to its horror. I thought about writing on health insurance, or public schools, or STEM programs for my kid. But none of the gripped me.

    I started looking up what a new MacBook Air would cost me, as my current machine is ten years old and staring to show it wear. But that’s a thousand dollars I don’t have right now.

    I thought about writing on the state of the job/gig market, as I still am looking for a side hustle to bring in some extra cash. But the more I think about that subject, the more depressed I feel.

    And if we are going to talk about depressing, then I could talk about being a middle-aged guy who is out of work and is attempting a writing career. But that topic makes me feel really, really depressed.

    I could talk about my lack of vocabulary as I get older.

    Ear hair is a subject that I feel doesn’t get covered enough for men.

    I could give this blog the name of a Nirvana song, but I think that would give me away as a 90’s kid.

    I could write about how I have nine stories floating out in submission land, waiting for a response. I could speak about my system of sending a story out to five magazines at a time, and if it gets rejected from all five, I start the process all over again. But speaking about rejection isn’t that much fun.

    I’m always impressed with people who can write about depressing things, but you end up feeling better about life. When I write about depressing topics, I just feel worse.

    I know what I don’t want to write about. That’s a start.

    I got a flash story I need to work on so I’ll go do that.

    Thanks for killing time with me.