Archives: writing

Manzanita

It is possible to pack in a lot of fun over a weekend, especially when you cut out early on Friday.  (It’s OK, I requested the time off officially.)  It’s important to break routine, to get away from our usual haunts and activities.  If not, we stagnate, even if our usual haunts and activities are pretty damn keen to begin with.

The Oregon coast, for those of you not familiar with it, does not provide that So-Cal bikini and surfer dude vibe.  Yes there are surfers out catching waves but they are few – and wearing wetsuits.  The August beach goers along the Oregon coast are tossing tennis balls to romping dogs, flying kites, carving three-wheel tracks in the sand on rented tricycles, setting out a picnic, piling up wood for evening bonfires.  And toting a sweater, just in case.

Now it wasn’t all vacation.  I did get some writing done in the hotel.  And I spent some time searching for sasquatch, though I never did catch a glimpse.

But I was primarily interested in recreation, recharging my batteries.  I got in nine-holes of golf, tossed the frisbee on the beach, and sampled some beer.  I chanced upon a copy of M.A.R. Baker’s “Flamesong” for three dollars at a used book store.  And I was able to hear your favorite band http://www.redelvises.com/ play in a small venue.  There is a certain increased immediacy to the music when the musicians perform in a small pub without a stage or any sort of barrier between them and the audience.

So with the batteries recharged, bring on the work week.  I’m ready.

It's a Girl!

I bought a crib yesterday. And a changing table. And other assorted items deemed indispensable for a newborn. The reality is still sinking in. Slowly: the density and relatively non-porous nature of my thick head renders comprehension a glacial process. But it is undeniable. I am going to be a father.

I’ve extended my adolescence longer than most, I suppose. Time to take a stab at adulthood. Any advice? I’m not, honestly, overly concerned. I’ve muddled my way through life with some degree of success, making it up as I went along. Less qualified people than I have become perfectly serviceable parents. I can do this. Right?

I still intend to make time for writing. I will continue to reach my word count. Plug away at the work-in-progress until it is finished, then move on to the next. Only now I have that much more incentive. My daughter deserves the best from me.

OK, there. I think that was a twinge of anxiety. Or maybe just hunger. Yeah, probably just hunger. Time for lunch.