HW: The Chairs Lean Back

Planetarium
Rockets launch as the slides click.
Stars with a deep voice.

If I ever compile these haikus into a book, I might name it “Shitty Words” or some such nonsense because my poems do not flow or fly, but stutter along like John Wilkes Booth limping from one side of the stage to the other (too soon?). Even so, the above is a personal favorite.

Fads and fashions aren’t what they used to be, so younger folks might not grasp our level of passion for NASA’s exploits of the Sixties and Seventies. A love affair measured in years and across industries, it was a golden age for science fiction, too, with Star Trek and a host of literary maestros (Asimov, Bradbury, Heinlein, Clarke, Le Guin, Niven, etc.) priming the pump for Star Wars (1977). You couldn’t swing a cat in K-Mart without hitting something related to space. I loved it.

Part of my journey was (dramatic pause) the Fleischmann Atmospherium Planetarium. Opened in 1963, it was “the first planetarium in the United States to feature a 360-degree projector capable of providing horizon-to-horizon images and through time-lapse photography showing an entire day’s weather in a few minutes” (link). I mean, how cool is that?

But, yes, there was more! Every show was a low-tech extravaganza disguised as a high-tech personal journey to Mars, the moons of Jupiter, or a trip through a prehistoric swamp. And how about a little love for those laser shows set to rock music? We’d sit back in chairs declined at 45-degree angle to watch pictures displayed on the big globe above us to hear narration set to film strips, slide projectors, music, and the very-deep-monotonal-bass voice of our narrator acting as our guide to a more wonderous time.

I haven’t been back since they dropped “Atmospherium” from the title, but the memories remain. I can still close my eyes, watch the Saturn V explode to the stars, and wish I was still the kid who wanted to fly with a rocket.

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Podcasting with One Brain Cell

On a whim, JT and I began podcasting for writers a little over a month ago and have recorded eight episodes so far. We didn’t do any research before starting this adventure. We just decided to try it out and see what would happen. Turns out we’re having a lot of fun with what we decided to call “The CC & JT Amateur Hour for Writers.”

The reason for the name is obvious – what we’re doing is very amateur. Our setup consists of a microphone, a laptop, a “recording booth” made up of a quilt draped over a photographer’s backdrop frame, and the podcasting program that comes with our WordPress website. Neither of us has any experience in this area and we’re not doing anything too technical. We have no catchy theme song. Our sessions aren’t edited. What we record is what we post. What you see is what you get, so to speak.

Since what we’re doing is so amateur, I started wondering if it could really be considered podcasting. Surely creating an actual podcast couldn’t be so simple, right? There must be more to the process.

Not really. According to my research, a podcast consists of free on-demand episodes of people discussing things. It can also be considered an audio blog and can cover any topic imaginable.

That definition indicates that “The CC & JT Amateur Hour for Writers” is an honest-to-goodness podcast. We’re posting regular episodes to a variety of platforms for listeners to enjoy on-demand at no cost.

Whether we’re doing an official writers podcast didn’t really matter to me, of course. We started this project to try something new and to inspire ourselves and others who might be interested in writing. We’re also hoping to provide a little entertainment along with the information we discuss.

The added benefit to me is the half hour JT and I spend talking to each other with no other distractions. While the two of us spend a lot of our free time together, we’re not always paying attention to each other since we’re often involved in something else, like chores. We can’t be distracted while recording. At least we try not to be distracted, though I admit I lost my train of thought during the earthquake that happened while we were recording one episode!

Check out “The CC & JT Amateur Hour for Writers” to find out what we’re doing. Feel free to ask questions or to suggest topics that might be of interest to you for future episodes. We’d love your feedback.

Don’t be afraid to create your own podcast. They’re not too difficult and you might find yourself having a lot of fun in the process.

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Formulas

The one where we talk traveling the tried and true path of formula fiction. Special shout-out of thanks to Ronald B. Tobias’ book, “20 Master Plots,” for guiding our discussion.

This week’s spoilers: When Harry Met Sally. Star Wars, and Harry Potter.

Have a listen and let us know what you think! Thank you!

Edit: This time with the correct link. Thanks, Anchor!

As always, subscribe below to get updates.

HW: Ghosts

Grama’s ghost drifts by.
She wears her smile and gray curls.
Does my Grama live?

Ghosts are everywhere. Not the apparitions in Disney’s Haunted Mansion or the pellucid warriors floating above Hogwarts, but the twins of loved ones and colleagues from our past. I saw my grandmother’s ghost in Raley’s just the other day.

That’s her on the left. She was my rock before CC and I were wed. Wise and loving, I wish I’d been a better student before she passed in 2005. Her life lessons are eternal: be kind; be patient; things work out the way they do for a reason. Maybe if I had listened, I would have been with my mom when she died in 2008.

Regret is forever, people.

So I turned around in the store, and there’s a lady with my grandmother’s hairstyle and coloring, plus she’s about the same height. It was my grandmother for a millisecond, followed by the pain of remembering that she’d been dead for more than a decade. But, oh, that millisecond was sweet.

Therein lies the contradictory nature of mourning. When we see the doubles of our loved ones, or their drifting ghosts in the haiku above, we feel the pain of loss. The rough part is that sharp pain is love, morphed from the experience and mourning. We forget that sometimes.

And for what it’s worth, Elizabeth Taylor is my mother’s ghost. I can’t watch Liz’s movies without thinking of Mom because she was a beauty, too. I miss my mom and grandmother very much.

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Tahoe

For our subscribers, a quick blog post on this morning’s bonus podcast from the shores of Lake Tahoe. CC and I talked about our mutual memories and, being writers, we go from Mark Twain to the Godfather Part II.

We made a couple of boo-boo’s (being amateurs):

  • The elevation of Lake Tahoe is 6,224 feet, still making it one of the highest alpine lake in the world.
  • The MS Dixie departed from Zephyr Cove, Nevada, as does the MS Dixie II.

Pictures of our adventure can be found here. Thanks for listening!

Here’s the Podcast.

Drowning in Kool-Aid

“The phrase can…used…to indicate that one has embraced a particular philosophy or perspective.
Alice: Hey, did you hear that Joe is working on the Nader campaign?
Bob: Yeah, he really drank the Kool-Aid on that one.”
Reference: Urban Dictionary

This post will be outside my comfort zone as I usually don’t talk about work. Listeners of “The CC and JT Amateur Hour” know we’re public servants in Carson City, so extrapolating our bosses is a short leap. I learned a difficult life lesson recently, and maybe someone will read this post and learn that lesson without my struggle. At the very least I’m documenting my experience for the next time, whenever that is.

I’ve been drinking the above flavor of Kool-Aid all my life, especially when I was in the Air Force. Total immersion was not only expected, but we took an oath to drink the contents of whatever mugs and steins that were placed in front of us. After my service, I entered private and public employment where the devotion to the mission varied by office. Last February, I was pulled into an office where, yep, the level of the Kool-Aid was up by my nose. I accepted a promotion in the same office a few months later and took the dive into the deep end of the pool.

I should have known better because my diabetes was already acting up before failing upwards. But it was my dream job, gosh darn it (I shout into the silent abyss!). Years paying my dues were finally rewarded, and I was working with fantastic people and doing important work. Ah, but for my poor pancreas. I’d been living with self-inflicted diabetes type two for years, so I should have been smarter. Of course, if I’d been that smart years ago, I wouldn’t be a T2 in the first place.

You can see when I made the decision to take a transfer and demotion. My doctor wants my daily blood sugar readings (BSRs) between those two green bars (140-160). My move to healthier circumstances was not met with widespread approval and understanding by the office Kool-Aid makers, but I had no choice. I want to keep my feet a little while longer.

Life Lesson: be smarter than me. Do not tax your pancreas, and if you do, make better decisions about your lifestyle than I did. You’ll save yourselves hours of physical and mental misery if you do.

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Earthquake!

Never a boring podcast. Well, that probably not always true, but this one had a 4.0 earthquake while we were discussing our thoughts on the “Flawed Protagonist.” Can you hear the house shake? If that’s not enough, Darth, Superman, and Batman stop by, so to speak.

Seriously, “Love and Death” is my favorite of the books I’ve written, and it is free today, April 25 and tomorrow, April 26 if you’re so inclined (it’s always free on KU).

Have a listen to our podcast and let us know what you think. Take care. Peace out!

HW: Lilacs

Lilacs in the trash,
Cold tears wet the black plastic.
They twist-tie their past.

(Here’s the long explainer behind Haiku Wednesday. tl;dr? Just roll with it.)

I was crooning along with my favorite Bonnie Raitt song, “I Can’t Make You Love Me,” when CC took off her noise-dampening headphones and asked why I like sad songs. Well, the songs are slow enough for me to understand the words, but really they speak to my romantic soul. I like what we in the writing trade call the “HEA” stories (happily ever after), while at the same time knowing that not all love stories are happy ones.

This particular haiku is not a stinker, in my opinion, but the coda of what must have been a relationship made of smiles and flowers. Alas, not even lilacs could save the protagonist from the inevitable tears of a broken heart. Maybe, just maybe, they’ve started the act of closure and moving on by tying up the garbage bag and throwing away the trash.

Technical notes: Most folks probably would have gone with roses, but gosh, that symbolism is such a cliché. And I changed the gender in this draft from “she” to “they” because everyone cries when their heart is broken. We just don’t see some of their tears.

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Da Cubs

Character, they say, is something you build when you lose. I’m a Cubs fan. I’ve been building character for over thirty years…with one notable exception.

My love/hate relationship with the Windy City Northsiders began when Cassidy and I were first married and living in the far-off land known as Sarpy County. While we had much in common, we had big gaps in learning how to live with each other. I was a moderate baseball fan and CC had heard of baseball. We randomly turned on WGN out of Chicago and were fascinated by the loud broadcaster with the booming voice who wore glasses with lens the size of big screen televisions.

CC and I bonded over the Cubs (and a newborn daughter) when they had their flash-in-the-pan success of the mid-Eighties, only to lose to the monochromatic San Diego Padres and their two-dimensional first baseman Steve Garvey (I’m not bitter!). The Cubs wouldn’t have any kind of real success for decades after (aside from a peak here and there). Life changed when the Ricketts bought the team, sunk real money into the dilapidated facilities, and brought in two success-makers named Theo and Joe.

In 2016, CC and I were lucky enough to go Cubs Spring Training, and we saw t-shirts that said, “Just One Before I Die,” referring to a World Series championship, something the Northsiders hadn’t won since (sigh) 1908. Walking the concreate pathways around Sloan Park in Mesa, I felt the palatable certainty that this was our year. The team made a loud noise in 2015 but fell short of the final round. From everything we saw and felt at Sloan, I could believe it we might win it all.

Our team spent most of 2016 in first place of the National League Central, but being a Cubs fan, we know nothing is certain and there’d been so much disappointment (“character building”). No fingernail was safe from chewing between April and October.

I’ll cut to the chase and, yes, the Cubs did break the 108-year curse in seven games (and extra innings!) with the seventh game possibly being the greatest game in World Series history.

As this is a writing blog, I’m guess I’m trying to say that while many writers are blessed with instant success, most of us are in this for the long haul. Like the Cubs in their World Series year, the best path to success is hard work, calling on experts to fill in the gaps, have faith in yourself and your play on the field, and build collaboration where you can, like I have with CC. Fame and fortune may not be guaranteed, but you’ll know you did your absolute best over the long season.

As for the Chicago Cubs after that magical 2016 season, well, I wish there were more pennants and trophies and such, but truthfully, I don’t care. I got my one World Series before I died.

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Podcast: Reality

Quick note to let our subscribers know there is a brand new writers podcast for your listening enjoyment. CC and I chat about how we writers shape the Universe within our books, and we use two of our favorite movies that show the rewards and risks of maybe going too far.

Are we right or are we full of crap? We hope you give us a listen to “The Sunshine of the Matrix” and let us know what you think. Thank you much!

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