Tag: Writing

  • One More Before the Year is Over

    I have a good feeling that I won’t get back to blogging until the New Year. Even then, the first week back, I’ll post all the “Best of…” for 2025. So, it’s more like I won’t really be back to writing for about two weeks.

    It’s time to wrap up 2025, and I did just get back from Christmas in Texas. It was a good trip. Got to see all the family, and even had a chance to hang out with the old college gang. The only thing that wasn’t so great was the fact that it was in the 80’s the whole time we were there. It was Summer in December. And all we had to wear was winter clothes. Oh well… I just can’t escape the heat sometimes…

    As for 2025 –

    Personally, my life is pretty good this year, and I really can’t complain. We’re all healthy, doing well, getting by, and having fun.

    Professionally, things aren’t too bad either. Blog is still growing – this was the best year in views and visitors, “likes” were up compared to last year, and the number of comments were exactly the same as the previous year. I got a review published at Split Lip, and though I wrote fewer stories, I felt that my quality is improving.

    Doing all of this probably will never not feel like screaming into a void, but I do appreciate those of you that took the time to read what I wrote. You shared with me the most precious thing of all; your time. And for that, I am deeply honored.

    Moving on to 2026 – sure would be nice to get another thing published. Oh, getting out of debt would be cool, too! Completing the writing of a book, maybe losing ten pounds, getting to see a World Cup match live would be neat. But I think I would like to improve as a husband, and as a father. Also, be a better son, brother, and uncle. Oh, and growing and being a better friend as well. I guess I would like to be the type of person I would like to hang out with. Oh, and read more. Always could read more.

    So, I hope 2025 wasn’t too hard on ya, and I sure do hope your 2026 is a hell of a lot better.

    Thanks again for reading this little squeak is a world of squawks.

    • Matt Groff

  • ODDS and ENDS: Most Annoying Thing in the World, Dogs in Sweaters, and Christmas Lights

    (City lights and business nights…)

    I have a canker sore on the bottom of my tongue. Sweet Lord in Heaven, it is the most annoying thing in my life right now. It hurts a little, sure; that little sting of pain when I eat or talk or swallow or brush my teeth, or do anything like laying in bed. But what is really annoying is how I am thinking about it all the time. Can’t eat anything too spicy, and don’t talk too much, because you might droll on yourself. I ate a cookie last night, and it hurt like hell on a stick, so now I have second thoughts about eating a cookie. And this is the time of year when you’re supposed to eat cookies freely and openly and without thought… I’ve had the canker sore for three days now, and I know me, which means that I have about four more day to go before it decides to move on its way.

    Dogs in sweaters is just funny to me. I’m not knocking dogs in sweaters, as some little guys do need them. But on the whole, when I see a dog in a sweater, it makes me think the dog is playing dress up. Like the dog has a little closet of clothes to pick from. But like I said, some dogs need a sweater. Case in point:

    I love New York City at Christmas time. People are generally in a good mood, and there is a buzz around here during the Holidays. And then there are the lights; colored lights are everywhere. But what I like most when it comes to lights are the Christmas Trees people place in front of their windows; decorated and lit up. Like silent home guards watching over the City.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Tired, Mushroom Stock, and Writing in a Cafe

    ODDS and ENDS: Tired, Mushroom Stock, and Writing in a Cafe

    (Have you got nothing to say?)

    I need more sleep. I think I have been saying this since I was fifteen years old. And I like naps, but what I am here to talk about is that I need more of the bedtime type of sleep. And what I also need is for my body to stop waking up between 5:30a and 6a in the morning. That I think is what is holding me back. Sure, I could go to bed earlier – that’s logical. But what is more logical is for my brain to stay turned off until 7a or 8a. That would be the biggest help. See, if I go to bed at 9p to 10p, my body wakes up at 5:30a. If I go to bed at midnight or 1a, again, the body wakes me up at 5:30a. I’ve tried to explain to my brain and body that all the cool shit in the world happens between 11p and 2a – its a magical time. So, if we could adjust that internal wake up call, then all parties would be happy. Could you do that for me?

    I make my own mushroom stock for Thanksgiving. I’m not bringing this up to toot my own horn here, as the recipe I use is stupidly simple. Anyone could do it. No, the reason I bring this up is because not too long ago, at least in Manhattan anyway, it was easy to get mushroom stock at virtually any grocery store. Then all of a sudden it disappeared. Couldn’t get it anywhere. I could order it online, but to do that, I had to buy in bulk, like six cartons, when all I needed was just one quart. Same thing with shrimp/seafood stock. It just disappeared from the store shelves.

    I write in a cafe now. Not all the time, but a few days a week. Nothing special here, just something that I started doing again. It took about a month, but now the guys who work at the cafe recognize me, and get my coffee ready when I walk in the door. It’s a part of being a “regular” in New York City that makes living here cool.

  • Short Story Review: “Mother of Men” by Lauren Groff

    (The short story “Mother of Men” by Lauren Groff appeared in the November 10th, 2025 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Bryan Schutmaat

    “Mother of Men” by Lauren Groff is a good story, except for one thing. And I’ll get to that.

    But before I get to that, this story made me think about the world my mother lived in. She was married with three sons, and though she told us she loved it, she did have to deal with three stinky boys, who became men, and all the baggage that came with it. Later in life, when me and my brothers got married and had our own families, did it start to dawn on us how much of her life was confined with masculine demands. In that context, much of what is expressed in this story by the narrator rang true to me; that men are always in her house, how her boys were now men, and the need for her home to be a safe place.

    When the stalker is added to the story, and thus kicking off the plot, the menace that this man places on the narrator, is not only an immediate threat to her, but also to her home, and these men in her life. And this stalker is truly a threat, because he does have a gun. This weapon also functions as a reminder that violence and men are never too far apart from each other. Her husband has a baseball bat, her sons offer their own cocky protection to their mother, and the narrator even tries to enlist the workers from her home renovation for additional security. All of this raised interesting questions of violence and safety, of masculine and feminine roles, how a mother goes from protector of her sons, to needing protection from them. Even the title of story, which is also the title Catholics use in reference to Mary mother of Jesus, wasn’t lost on me, and added another layer to the piece. Great stuff.

    And then the climax happened. The stalker enters the home at night, the narrator is unable to take action, so her son asks the stalker to leave, which the stalker does. And it felt completely incongruent to everything that had come before in the story. This climax broke Chekhov’s Gun Rule, which means if you introduce a gun in the story, you have to fire it at the end. There was an expectation of violence, threat, even menace in this story, and to not deliver a resolution to that expectation left the ending of the story feeling hollow. And I did spend time thinking about this climax and the choices that were made, but I kept coming back to the same conclusion – the gun needed to be fired.

  • That Guy in That Thing

    When I moved to New York City nineteen years ago, with the help of a friend, I got a job working at a theatrical rehearsal studio. It wasn’t a bad job; helped me get a financial foothold in the City. Made some pretty good friends while doing it, as well. But the most interesting aspect of that job was always having this “deja vu” feeling while watching tv, especially when seeing commercials.

    Follow me on this…

    Working at a rehearsal studio meant that I was in contact with hundreds if not thousands of actors. Not only were actors coming in and out for rehearsals, but lots of castings were held in the studios; plays, musicals, tv shows, reality tv shows, movies, and tons upon tons of tv commercials.

    On the whole, actors are a pretty out going and friendly group. Some can be strange, and others can be “chip on the shoulder assholes” but by and large, good people. Chatty people, too. Everyone had a story to tell, or a show that they were in that they wanted you to come and see. Hell, I would try to talk them in to seeing one of my puppet shows, and they would try to get me to go to their staged reading – it’s how the industry works. And it was fun talking to people.

    Then I would go home, turn the tv on to watch something, and there in the Raymore & Flannagan commercial was the guy who was telling be about the reading he was in. Or I would see the woman who was at the second call back for a new musical playing a dead body on Law and Order. Or, I would see a TD Bank ad and wonder to myself, “Don’t I know that guy at the teller widow?” Or “Isn’t that the gal who was warming up in the hallway today in the Jeep commercial?”

    Then a couple of days or weeks would go by, and that actor would walk into the studio for an audition or rehearsal, and my mind would trigger back to that commercial, and I’d say to them, “Saw in that Ben and Jerry’s ad.”

    Other times, I wouldn’t see them again to tell them good job, because they started to work their way up the ladder. Slowly, ad after ad, no lines, then one line. Then featured in an ad, then a background character for some show. Then an under five, leading to a featured role.

    Still to this day, when I’m watching a show or a movie, I’ll still get this feeling when an actors comes on in a small role, that I met them before, a long time ago. I can never prove it, but I do wonder.