Wayne A. "Tony" Conaway, Writer

How to Look Cool

2012-02-14T20:17:00.003-05:00

To look cool, some guys carry around long-expired backstage passes to rock concerts. I carried around my pass to the US Patent Office. It didn't have the same effect.

Religious Experience

2012-02-13T16:08:00.008-05:00

The closest I've ever come to a religious experience is getting lost in a book, pausing, looking up...and remembering that I'm in the glorious main reading room of the Library of Congress!

I'll take a working visit to the Library of Congress over all the other attractions in Washington.

Cover Shots for RUINING THE RAPTURE

2012-01-31T20:24:00.008-05:00

This is the proposed cover art
for my new e-book, which is
called "Ruining the Rapture."

Personally, I think photographer
David James did a terrific job!

Anyone have any preference
for which of these three shots
to use?

Stereogranimator

2012-01-26T16:21:00.004-05:00

The NY Public Library's new Stereogranimator site: a novelty or an abuse of parallax? (Warning: do not use while taking cold medication.)

The Stereogranimator site is hands-on; you can create your very own disturbing effects.

For an explanation, see this blog post on the NY Times website.

It's perfect for people with too much time on their hands! (Me, I already feel bad that I took this much time posting about it.)

Teddy in the Tree

2012-01-16T17:52:00.002-05:00

A rather creepy short story of mine, called "Teddy in the Tree," has just been posted on the Thrillers, Killers 'N' Chillers site. It must have struck a nerve, because it's already generated six comments.

Keeping Your Resolutions Achievable

2012-01-16T14:10:00.002-05:00

My personal goal for 2012: to make parakeets yawn! (I don't want to shoot too high.)

Contagious yawning in birds.

Crime Fiction Collective: Dialogue Nuts & Bolts

2011-12-27T18:10:00.000-05:00

In writing critique sessions, I spend a lot of time correcting punctuation. This excellent article by Jodie Renner addresses most of the problems I've seen.

Crime Fiction Collective: Dialogue Nuts & Bolts: by Jodie Renner.

Dena Blizzard for "Ruining the Rapture"

2011-12-23T19:22:00.004-05:00

Early next year, I will put out my first Ebook, "RUINING THE RAPTURE (AND TEN OTHER STORIES OF DARK AMUSEMENT)." Right now I'm working on the book trailer.

My friend Dena Blizzard did a short video blurb for the book. A former Miss New Jersey, Dena is currently the warmup comic for "The Nate Berkus Show." Of course, being a comedienne, Dena couldn't do just a straightforward recommendation....

Panel Discussion at Phoenixville Library

2011-12-21T17:52:00.004-05:00

Well, after complaining about holding events in empty bookstores on Saturday and Sunday, we had a full house at a Monday night event at a library!

The event was a panel discussion by contributors to the anthology CHESTER COUNTY FICTION. The Phoenixville, Pennsylvania, Public Library set out 30 chairs for the audience. Ten minutes after we started, every chair save one was occupied! Afterwards, we sold (and signed) over 20 copies of the anthology.

The panel was ably moderated by Jason Hafer (of Phoenixville' s late, lamented Wolfgang Books). Everyone seemed to have fun.

Thanks to everyone who came out!

You can see some photos of the event here.

And Happy Holidays to one and all!

Where Is Everybody?

2011-12-17T14:09:00.008-05:00

I just finished a book signing for the anthology Chester County Fiction, in which I have two short stories. And I was dismayed at how few customers were in the bookstore.

Three years ago, when I was in that bookstore a week prior to Christmas, the place was a madhouse. The staff was harried, trying to keep up with customer demand. But today was barely busier than their usual weekend crowd.

My next event promoting this anthology is at the Phoenixville, Pennsylvania, Public Library at 7 pm this Monday, December 19th. I hope the audience outnumbers the anthologists!

Goodbye, Hitch

2011-12-16T11:56:00.003-05:00

Christopher Hitchens, writer, raconteur, and contrarian, is gone.

This was no surprise; he announced that he had terminal cancer in 2010. But it saddens me greatly that he won't be around to make people angry.

I didn't agree with all of his positions, especially his support of the war in Iraq. But his positions were well thought out and beautifully delivered. I respected them.

Some hoped that Hitchens, an atheist, would have some sort of deathbed conversion. (Convert to what, I always wondered? His father was Christian, while his mother hid the fact that she was Jewish - Hitch didn't find that out until after she died.)

But he stuck to his non-belief. And I respect that, too.

In regard to his atheism, he wrote:

"The only position that leaves me with no cognitive dissonance is atheism. It is not a creed. Death is certain, replacing both the siren-song of Paradise and the dread of Hell. Life on this earth, with all its mystery and beauty and pain, is then to be lived far more intensely: we stumble and get up, we are sad, confident, insecure, feel loneliness and joy and love. There is nothing more; but I want nothing more." – The Portable Atheist: Essential Readings for the Non-Believer

I don't drink much any more, but I'll drink a toast to Hitch this holiday season, with the best liquor I can afford. After all, at Hitch said, "Cheap booze is a false economy."

Styrofoam Hell

2011-11-28T02:02:00.005-05:00

I'm sitting in a Starbucks, listening to a 19-year-old barista whining, "I give up. I just give up!" I'm shaking my head, thinking, She can't handle the pressure of working in an almost-empty Starbucks??

When I was her age, I spent a summer working swing shift on the production line at a styrofoam cup factory. Eight hours a day (unless I did overtime), I stood at a machine that shoved 30 cups into a plastic bag and sealed it. The work was so arduous that the factory hired 4 people for each job, assuming that 3 of them would quit before the end of their first shift. I didn't bother to complain: no one could've heard me over the machine noise, and everyone wore earplugs.

Anyone who has ever worked a swing shift knows that the job's special hell: you can never get your sleep cycle in tune with your work. We did a week on the midnight-to-8 am shift, a week on the 8 am-to-4 pm shift, followed by a week on the 4 pm-to-midnight shift. Several times I almost got in car accidents, falling asleep while driving home after my shift. And, in the summer, the day shift was scorching; you sweated right through your clothes. I started carrying a waterproof, velcro-sealed camper's wallet, so I wouldn't sweat on my money.

A few years later, when the styrofoam cup factory closed, it was declared a superfund site. So it probably wasn't a particularly healthy place to work.

Still, it's all relative. A few years prior to that, a lot of guys my age were on patrol in rice paddies in Vietnam. They would've loved to trade places with me.

But that girl who can't handle working in a clean, air-conditioned Starbucks has some serious challenges in store for her!

The Wharton Esherick Museum

2011-11-23T18:42:00.009-05:00

Three years ago, I wrote an article on the Wharton Esherick Museum, hidden away on a hillside just west of Valley Forge Park, Pennsylvania. Esherick (1887-1970) was a woodworking artist of great renown. The above image is a photo of his iconic spiral staircase, which was exhibited at the 1940 New York World's Fair.

Ever since I visited the museum, I've tried to get my 82-year-old father to visit it. I knew he'd enjoy it - before he became a music professor, he worked for his father as a carpenter. (My grandfather owned the Lester Woodworking Company of Philadelphia, which specialized in making roll-top desks. Of course, roll-top desks went out of fashion long ago, and the company folded.)

My father still has a great appreciation of fine carpentry. But he's also sedentary and stubborn, so for three years he put off visiting a place I knew he'd love.

Finally, today, he visited the Wharton Esherick National Historic Landmark for Architecture. My sister took him. He loved it, of course.

And THAT's what I'm thankful for this Thanksgiving!

Is This a Bad Sign?

2011-10-19T16:57:00.005-04:00

I'm writing in a Starbucks until it's time for tonight's meeting of the Main Line Writers Group.

This Starbucks is playing music so bad, so tinny, that I couldn't tell if it was coming from the PA system or the website I was looking at was playing music! Yes, it's THAT bad.

Author Breece D'J Pancake

2011-10-12T18:35:00.006-04:00

I was emailing a writer in West Virginia, and got to thinking about that late, great West Virginia author Breece D'J Pancake. I wanted to ask her a question about his work, but she'd never read him.

Pancake - yes, that was his real name* - killed himself at the age of 26, despite an astonishingly successful debut as a writer of short-stories. His work was compared to that of Ernest Hemingway and James Joyce. Chuck Palahniuk and Andre Dubus III (among others) have cited him as an influence. But Pancake shot himself back in 1983, and he seems to be largely forgotten.

My email question to the West Virginia author? "When writing in West Virginian dialect, Pancake used to write the word "it" as "hit." I've never seen anyone else do that. Is it a good approximation of a local dialect?"

I'm still looking for the answer, in case anyone knows. I was in Weirton, West Virginia, some thirty years ago, and I don't recall how they spoke. (Besides, residents in what passes for an urban center in West Virginia probably don't sound like rural folks.)

If you're interested, there was a nice appreciation of Breece D'J Pancake by Dwight Garner in The New York Times, on the occasion of what would have been Pancake's 55th birthday.

* The only affectation in his name was accidental: when The Atlantic Monthly published his first short story, they printed his middle initials as D'J instead of D.J. The error amused Pancake and he let it stand, both then and on his subsequent publications.

That's Still Edible!

2011-10-12T18:30:00.003-04:00

My car is in the shop, so this is the second day I'm trapped at home. I didn't expect my brakes to go, so I didn't shop before my car went in for repairs.

Being stuck at home with a depleted pantry makes you re-evaluate expiration dates on food. I just found out that you CAN eat two-year-old pasta as long as you boil it thoroughly.

But if my car's not ready tomorrow, I'm going to do an internet search on how to eat cattails. (And my decorative cattails are only a year old!)

Book Launch of the CHESTER COUNTY FICTION Anthology

2011-10-03T20:08:00.008-04:00

Yesterday we had the book launch of the anthology Chester County Fiction at the iconic (and appropriately musty) Baldwin's Book Barn in West Chester, PA. We jammed the back room with guests (luckily, the local fire marshal isn't a bibliophile) and sold half of our initial print run! Kudos to publisher Jim Breslin for arranging such a successful event.

Everyone who attended seemed to have a good time, with the possible exception of the hapless guest who got peed on by owner Tom Baldwin's dog.

I've autographed plenty of books in the past, but yesterday I learned that signing a paperback while standing up in a crowd requires a different skill set. (That's assuming you want to write legibly.) Thankfully, I already know how to avoid incontinent dogs.

Now I'm looking forward to the next group signing, to be held from 1 to 3 pm on Saturday, October 22nd, at the Chester County Book and Music Company. Hope you can join us!

Better Than It Has Any Right to Be

2011-09-29T23:14:00.004-04:00

I just finished reading Michael Chabon's first novel, The Mysteries of Pittsburgh. It's better than any first novel has the right to be, especially since Chabon started it when he was only 21 years old.

No, it's not perfect. The ending, especially, feels rushed. That's not unusual: most fiction authors write more-or-less in order, first chapter to last. The author has had the early chapters long enough to revise them over and over, but less time to work on the last chapters. Nevertheless, it's damn good.

Years ago, when I read Ramond Radiguet's Devil in the Flesh and realized that the author was only 18 years old, it made me feel like I know nothing about love.

Reading The Mysteries of Pittsburgh make me feel like I know nothing about writing a witty and engaging story.

I'll be thinking about that when I do a bookstore reading of my witty and engaging work this Sunday.

The First Full Day of Autumn

2011-09-24T19:17:00.004-04:00

The autumnal equinox was yesterday, so this is our first full day of autumn. It's always been my favorite season.

This year, however, has had very odd weather. We had a very wet spring in Chester County, PA. Then the rains disappeared, and the state declared a drought on August 5th. This was followed by record rainfall, which included rain from Hurricane Irene and Tropical Storm Lee.

August - which began with a drought - ended with 13.12 inches of rainfall in the county.

And the rains kept coming in September. The ground is saturated, right when it's usually drying. Wet ground provides poor support for the trees, which may blow over in winter storms.

You can't say that we haven't had interesting weather in 2011.

My Book Is Mentioned in Today's NEW YORK TIMES

2011-08-26T19:30:00.009-04:00

One of the business books that I co-wrote is mentioned (favorably) in today's NEW YORK TIMES.

Of course, I can't tell WHICH version of KISS, BOW OR SHAKE HANDS the article is referring to. By the end of this year, there will have been six with that title. Different sub-titles, of course.

Why so many? That title sells. The lifeless titles picked by publishers (e.g., THE INTERNATIONAL TRAVELER'S GUIDE TO DOING BUSINESS IN THE EUROPEAN UNION) didn't sell.

You go with what works.

Dear Parents

2011-08-26T17:08:00.004-04:00

A note to parents: Starbucks is not a playground for your kids. There are people trying to work here. Don't bring your kids here, feed them caffeinated drinks, and park them at a table while you wander off.

Yes, I understand that you're tired of your hellspawn and need a break. I've only known your progeny for ten minutes, and I'm tried of them too. But this isn't the place.

Instead, take them to a McDonald's with a playground. Wherever there's a Starbucks, there is probably a McDonald's nearby. And the McDonald's playground has an iron cage around it. Which is what your munchkins belong in.

Why You Should Never Clean Your Bathtub

2011-08-22T18:24:00.005-04:00

I cleaned my bathtub yesterday. Without all that grime, the tub was slick again. Today I slipped in the shower and twisted my bad knee. The lesson: never clean your bathtub. Or never shower. One or the other.

My Quantitative Easing

2011-08-05T18:52:00.004-04:00

July was a particularly unprofitable month, so I'm engaging in my version of quantitative easing: I went over to my Dad's house and cadged dinner from him.

It's All Relative

2011-07-05T20:19:00.003-04:00

My car is thirteen years old and has suffered every possible misfortune, from being attacked by a deer to having a child throw up in it.

Lately, stinkbugs have invaded my car. Surprisingly, they're making it smell better.

The Freelance Life

2011-06-30T20:24:00.002-04:00

OK: the most recent book is done (although it won't be published until this fall). I finished my last paying writing job yesterday. I do have a deadline for some writing jobs I agreed to do for free. Other than that, everything else is on spec.

Ah, the life of a writer. (Was it really so bad, working swing shift at the styrofoam cup factory?)

Another Reason I Prefer Writing at Starbucks

2011-06-06T15:38:00.003-04:00

I'm working in a library today. My editor just phoned me with some questions, and I got shushed by a librarian. This is another reason to prefer writing at Starbucks: no one there cares if you take phone calls.

And the coffee is a lot better at Starbucks than the vending-machine coffee at the library. I don't care if the library coffee is three times cheaper!

First Firefly of the Year

2011-05-24T18:16:00.003-04:00

I saw my first firefly of the year last night. They usually don't show up in this neighborhood until Memorial Day or later. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that it has rained every day for the past ten days!

Blood on the Mac and Cheese

2011-05-09T11:30:00.003-04:00

I went to the dentist this morning and had two cavities filled. I try to avoid Novocaine, but my dentist felt it was necessary.

I'd skipped breakfast, so I went for some lunch afterwards. Soft food was called for. I got some mac and cheese - something I rarely eat - at a neighborhood Panera Bread Company.

And it wasn't long before I noticed blood in my mac and cheese.

This is why I don't like to get Novocaine: I usually manage to bite my lips or the inside of my cheek without noticing. This time it was my lower lip.

Well, at least I got a story title out of it: Blood on the Mac and Cheese. Now, is that a title for a Young Adult book, or a soft-boiled detective novel? You tell me.

Why I Write in Starbucks

2011-05-03T17:21:00.006-04:00

I'm writing in a Starbucks today. Yesterday I wrote in a Panera Bread Company. I haven't worked in a library in over a week.

Why? The truth: it's not the coffee, it's not the food.

It's the bathrooms.

I often work in public libraries. In fact, I prefer it: they're a lot quieter than commercial establishments, and they have books for research.

But, when I work in a library, the bathrooms are usually far away. At my favorite library, the distance from the work tables to the bathrooms has to be the equivalent of a full city block! So, when I go to the bathroom in the library, I leave my laptop unattended for a much longer time.

This battered MacBook of mine would cost about $1,200 to replace. I get nervous leaving it unattended for any span of time.

At the Starbucks where I'm at, the bathroom is just five steps away. I'm in and out of the bathroom so fast, the screen saver doesn't have time to come up! (Yes, I wash my hands.)

When my business writing partner is back in town, I'll be back at a library. She can't work in commercial spaces, with their distractions and piped-in music. But until then, I'll be at a Starbucks or Panera.

Another coffee, please!

When Oscar Wilde Died, He Apparently Left Me His Talent

2011-04-07T15:41:00.006-04:00

A recent blog post about my story "Intellectuals in Bubbatown" said:

Two things leaped out at me from this story: One, Mr. Conaway has the best ear for Texas dialect since Dan Jenkins. Two: When I was in San Antonio a while back I read on a plaque on a wall by the bar in the Hotel Menger that Oscar Wilde had visited that bar back a ways in the century and astounded the cowboys who, to a man, said, "We liked the hell out of the little feller,but you jest cain't understand a WORD he says." If I didn't know better i'd say that this story could have been written by Oscar after he met the Texans. Thirdly (yeah, I know thats three things. Sue me.): That's way too funny a tale for words to express. Thanks for the highlight Kaye. Major fun.
- ajhayes2

That's the first time I've ever been mentioned in the same sentence as Oscar Wilde. It makes up for that blog post that called me the Antichrist.

(My thanks to Kaye George, who commented on my story in Chris Rhatigan's blog Death by Killing. And to whomever ajhayes2 is.)

Between Jobs

2011-03-21T19:36:00.002-04:00

For the first time in more than a year, I'm not under a deadline. Even though I know it won't last long, it's a strange feeling.

Intellectuals in Bubbatown

2010-12-18T20:59:00.003-05:00

A Canadian online literary magazine called Qarrtsiluni will be posting a humorous essay I wrote in their next issue. (Yes, I will post a link when "Intellectuals in Bubbatown" is available.) They also wanted a recording of me reading it.

So I read it onstage during Saturday night's show at the Marlton (NJ) Comedy Cabaret. I think I lost the audience somewhere between the references to Miguel de Unamuno and Donald Barthelme.

I knew I should have added some knob gags.

What I've Learned About Freelance Writing

2010-10-21T23:33:00.004-04:00

Last night I was on a panel about freelance writing for the Main Line Writers Group of King of Prussia, PA. The event drew 20 attendees - about twice the usual number. It seems that there was some interest in the topic, so I thought I'd write down the main points I covered.

1) Editors change jobs often: try to keep in touch with them. My co-author and I sold three books to three different publishers - all through the same editor, as he switched from one job to the next.

2) It is vitally important to deliver your work on time. Harlan Ellison used to complain about editors who complained "I don't care if it's good, I want it Tuesday!" Not all editors feel the same...most want your work good and on time. If you must deliver your work late, don't wait until the due date; let your editor know at least a week in advance.

3) You need a marketing plan to sell a book today. And social media is a big part of marketing. That's why I have 3,000 + friends on Facebook.

4) Finally, it's tough to make a living as a freelance writer. You can go months without collecting a check. It's good to have an additional source of income. Get married, get a part-time job, get an investment portfolio. Or move to a country where the cost of living is cheaper. Me, I'm considering doing all four.

I Must Not Be Doing It Right

2010-06-30T22:27:00.010-04:00

I am not naturally a social person. When thrust into a group setting, my natural inclination is to hide behind a large potted plant, muttering to myself.

However, over the years, I have mastered some social skills. I thought I had gotten to the point where I could socialize with other writers. Especially if there was alcohol involved.

But apparently I'm not doing it right (according to The New Yorker).

Reporting on a dinner that included British authors Salman Rushdie and Christopher Hitchins, writer Lauren Collins revealed that the guests started off with various word games. They couldn't even begin to talk about Iraq and Nicaragua and Tiananmen Square until they proved how witty they were.

When I get together with my writer friends, we do little but complain about how bad newspapers have become. (This may have something to do with the fact that most of my writer friends are ex-newspapermen.) We do not play word games. We do not talk about Iraq or Nicaragua or Tiananmen Square (although I do recall a conversation about New Guinea).

But, so I'm prepared for dinner with Rushdie or Hitchins, I'm practicing my palindromes and Botticelli. Just in case.

The Capricious Muse

2010-05-21T01:14:00.005-04:00

Yesterday, the writer's muse granted me three good ideas for short stories. Unfortunately, yesterday was an absurdly busy: I rushed from appointment to appointment with no time to site down and write. All I managed was to scribble a few notes while standing in line.

Today I had more time, so I sat down to flesh out the three story ideas. But the muse is capricious. I failed to cherish her gifts yesterday, so today she took my talent away. (I don't suffer from writer's block, but on bad days I just grind out dreck.)

When my talent returns - tomorrow, I hope - I will get some decent stories out of these ideas. In the meantime, I've been given a warning. I must write, write every day, every damn day until I die. Then I can stop.

Hawks

2010-04-24T13:55:00.004-04:00

I have no idea why, but I've seen more hawks in urban settings than in rural ones. I've gone on hawk-viewing expeditions to Hawk Mountain, PA, and managed to miss every raptor. Yet I've spotted several hawks feeding on the lawn at my parents' house in West Chester, PA. I even saw one getting entangled in a scrubby pine tree next to a parking lot off Route 70 in Cherry Hill, NJ.

At present, there is a live webcam showing three eyassers (baby hawks) in a nest in Philadelphia, PA. This nest of Red-tailed hawks is on a window ledge of the Franklin Institute. You can see the busy traffic beyond the nest on the Franklin Parkway. There is also a Facebook site for the Franklin Institute hawks, called Franklin Hawkaholics. It's worth a look.

Two Beers

2010-04-05T23:53:00.004-04:00

It's opening day for the Phillies, who beat the hapless Nationals 11 to 1. Plus, Duke won the NCAA and the Eagles traded Donovan McNabb. With that much sports going on, you've got to have a beer or two.

Of late, I've been trying different beers. Several younger friends of mine have had to give up drinking beer, so I realize my alcohol-swilling days may also be numbered. Or maybe it's just an excuse to drink more.

I already have some experience with a variety of beers. I once managed a bar that sold 90 different kinds of beer, and I tired every one. The place also had an all-female staff, except for me. (That sounds more fun than it actually was. As the only male, I was the doorman, bouncer, and had to change all the beer kegs.)

Tonight I want to make note of two remarkable beers that I just tried:

Innis & Gunn Original Oak Aged Beer is a fine lager from Edinburgh. Its taste is pleasant...but its scent is astonishing! Its aroma is so strong that you'd swear you wear a child again, suspiciously sniffing a beer and wondering how anyone could drink such a stinky thing! It's a grand experience.

Rogue Old Crustacean Barleywine Style Ale is from Oregon's Rogue Brewery. I never thought I'd encounter a beer that I couldn't drink, but here it is. It's as bitter as coffee left in the pot for six hours. Barleywine Style Ale is one of my favorite types of beer, but I can't stomach Old Crustacean. The 750 ml bottle is pretty cool, though: black, with a replaceable stopper.

But do try the Innis & Gunn if you ever get the chance.

A Bill Hicks Story

2010-03-27T14:21:00.004-04:00

Comics are always asking me, "what was it like to work with Bill Hicks?" (Hicks was a wildly-inventive, uncompromising comic who died young of pancreatic cancer). I was reminded of this story while setting my clocks forward when daylight savings time resumed two weeks ago.

I was the booking agent for the Comedy Workshop in Houston, Texas, between 1984 and 1986. This meant I was the de facto agent for all the comics who made that club their home base. This included such acts as Sam Kinison (who was before my time), Brett "Grace Under Fire" Butler, Fred Greenlee, and - of course - Bill Hicks.

Now, no one doubted the talent of Bill Hicks. I had no trouble booking him in other clubs - once. But they usually didn't want him back because of his behavior. Hicks was doing a lot of drugs at the time. He'd insult anyone who he felt wasn't worthy of his talent (audience members or club owners). And he wouldn't get off stage on time. Sometimes he'd go an hour long!

So, sometime in the spring of 1986, I booked Hicks in Oklahoma. I can't recall if it was Tulsa or Oklahoma City. It was a week-long booking, Tuesday through Sunday. In fact, I supplied all three acts: MC, middle act, and Hicks as headliner. I arranged plane tickets for all three acts, and told the Oklahoma manager what time to pick the comics up at the airport - sometime around 3 pm.

Hicks came into my office on Tuesday morning. I handed him his ticket. I told him, "Bill, it's getting so I can't get you booked back anywhere. Please, please try and get through this one week without pissing off the management."

Hicks smiled and said "Sure." And left.

Around 3:30 that afternoon I get a call from an angry manager in Oklahoma. "They weren't on the plane. Where are they?"

Frantically, I started making phone calls. This was long before cell phones; a lot of people didn't even have answering machines. I couldn't get hold of any of the three comics, so I called their friends. No one knew anything.

Around 7 pm I got another call from the Oklahoma manger. "They're here."

Hicks had convinced the other comics to turn in their plane tickets for cash, rent a car, and drive to Oklahoma. And he didn't tell anyone!

He'd managed to piss off the Oklahoma manager before he even got there!

He ended the week in the same way. Hicks and the other two comics forgot that daylight savings time began that Sunday. They all showed up to the club an hour late. With no comics there, the manager had canceled the show.

I resigned as booking agent of the Comedy Workshop two weeks later.

The Midnight Disease

2010-03-04T07:06:00.005-05:00

I awoke at 4 am and couldn't get back to sleep. I was worrying about my mother. We put her in a nursing home last week. No option, really. She has Alzheimer's and had to be in a lock-down facility. She kept trying to leave the house she'd lived in for 40 years to go to her childhood home in Manayunk (a Philadelphia neighborhood). She thinks her mother is still alive, waiting for her there.

Fifty years ago, HER mother was doing the exact same thing. Except that, back then, nursing homes didn't have keypad door locks or put monitoring bracelets on the patients. My grandmother escaped and made it to the bus stop several times.

So I couldn't get back to sleep. No matter. In Michael Chabon's book Wonder Boys, the narrator calls insomnia "The Midnight Disease" and claims it often afflicts writers. My rule for insomnia is this: if I can't get back to sleep in a half-hour, get up and write.

At 5:30 am I hear a neighbor leave for work. It reminds me of my own early-morning jobs, some twenty years ago. I remember working construction, showing up at the contractor's office at 6 am, being on the jobsite by 7 am. I was a plumbing apprentice. I had permanent bruises on both shoulders from carrying 22 foot lengths of pipe. Come to think of it, that's when my problems with my knees started.

It's 7 am now. Soon the school buses would make their rounds. How many times have I been on deadline, writing all night, only noticing the time when I hear the school buses in the morning? Too many to count.

The muse rarely inspires me late at night. My midnight writing is quotidian, workmanlike. Nothing brilliant. Just grinding out page after page. But that's what much of the writer's life is about. If deadlines permit, you can insert brilliance in the rewrite. It beats the hell out of writer's block.

Alzheimer's is also a midnight disease. I'm sure my mother awakens at night in the nursing home, not knowing where she is. But she was already doing that in at home, not recognizing her husband of 56 years. So she's no worse off. And now, perhaps, my father can get a full night's sleep. But it will take him time to get used to sleeping alone.

Explaining US Health Care to a Hapless Brit

2010-02-19T14:40:00.005-05:00

I have a head cold, so I went to the drug store to get a decongestant. I wanted the stuff that actually works, containing pseudoephedrine. In my home state of Pennsylvania, you have to go up to the pharmacist's counter, show ID, and sign a release to purchase this. (Even if I wanted to, how much meth could I cook up with 18 tablets?)

In front of me at the counter was a British expat. He was astounded that his HMO had changed the rules on him as of January 1st. The medication he wanted would now cost him over $100. He was going on about how his HMO could be allowed to do this.

I stepped in to explain it to him:

Friend, you have to remember that health care in this country is a for-profit business. American health care is the same as other for-profit businesses, like the gambling industry or porn. Only with less integrity.

The pharmacist was not happy with me, but I got my decongestant. Business marches on.

The French vs. the British vs. the G-spot

2010-01-30T16:00:00.004-05:00

An article in The Washington Post reports that British researchers conclude that the G-spot does not exist. (Or, if it does, it is "completely subjective." This is a term one uses with people who believe in, say, unicorns or gay Republicans, rather than saying "it's all in your head.")

In response, approximately 1,000 French gynecologists assert that the English need to "keep looking." This is more impressive than it sounds, because the French gynecologists were apparently at a convention about the G-spot. If they concluded that the G-spot didn't exist, they might want their convention fees back.

My guess is that the G-spot exists on the continent, but suddenly disappears when you enter Great Britain. But feel free to prove me wrong.

Another New York Times Junkie

2009-12-20T22:16:00.002-05:00

This morning I shoveled a foot of snow off my car and hit the road. After checking on my parents, I went in search of The Sunday New York Times. (Yes, I know you can read it online. It's not the same!)

I didn't see anyone out except for snowplow drivers, grumpy store clerks, and a meth addict trying to score. I think the meth-head had more business being outside than I did.

My New Fragrance

2009-12-18T01:06:00.001-05:00

I've decided on the composition of my new fragrance:

part old books,
part dead silverfish,
and a tang of ozone from a sputtering fan trying to cool off an aging MacBook.

It's called "Bookworm."

If Amiri Baraka Can Do It...

2009-12-13T23:00:00.003-05:00

At a party, we challenged each other to come up with the most outre name for a rock band. I won with "Kafkaesque Vaginas." But I think I just ruined any chance I had to become poet laureate.

Christmas Card to a Billionaire

2009-12-10T17:58:00.004-05:00

Right about now, Steve Jobs is writing this Christmas card to Bill Gates:

Bill, thanks for once again marketing such a shoddy product! Thanks to you, Apple's products don't have to be good. They just have to be better than yours!

Snow on the Wasteland

2009-12-08T20:00:00.005-05:00

I spent most of yesterday working in a suburban library. (It's not the closest one or the largest one - I go there because it's under-utilized, and I can always find a table to myself.)

This library is in a new housing development. Hundreds of townhouses, the proverbial "little boxes made of ticky tacky." I worked until closing, long after sunset. As I left, I saw the Christmas lights that the townhouse builder had put up in the tiny park in a futile attempt to make the place look festive.

Across the street are a few acres of land not yet bulldozed for housing. The trees on that land - now bare of leaves - had snow plastered to their trunks and branches on the windward side.

Those snow-covered trees on wasteland are far more beautiful than anything that builder had managed to achieve. Or ever will.

Pay Cuts will Cause Top Executives to Become James Bond Villains

2009-10-22T18:42:00.008-04:00

The media reports that cutting the salaries of the highest-paid US executives will cause a "brain drain," forcing executives to leave for greener pastures. But where will they go? Not to a foreign country. They're foreign over there, and the wretched refuse doesn't speak English. These are American executives we're talking about: they only speak American, god dammit!

I've figured out where they're going to end up.

You know the saying: When guns are outlawed, only outlaws will have guns? Well, when highly-paid executives are outlawed, only outlaws will have highly-paid executives.

I'm not talking about religion-based terrorist organizations. Can you imagine Jack Welch running al Qaeda? No, our best and brightest are going to the secular terrorist organizations, like SPECTRE, THRUSH, HYDRA, HIVE, and AIM!

At this very moment, SPECTRE (The Special Executive for Extortion, Counterespionage, Terrorism, Revenge, and, uh, more Extortion) needs new CEO. (The old one, Ernst Stavro Blofeld, has been killed at least three times. HMOs now consider that a pre-existing condition.) How about Enron's Jeffrey Skilling for SPECTRE CEO? A few weeks after the US Supreme Court laughs at his appeal, Jeffrey will be sitting in a secret lair, stroking a white pussy cat and giving Rosa Klebb orders to assassinate a lot of federal prosecutors.

And the mad scientists at AIM (that's Advanced Idea Mechanics, not The American Indian Movement), need someone to lead them. Right now, all they have is a Frankenstein's monster named MODOK, who looks like a floating Mr. Potato Head. AIM needs new leadership. They need Carly Floriana! (Assuming she loses her bid for governor of California, of course.) If Carly can handle Hewlett Packard, she can handle a bunch of lab-bound nerds who haven't even seen a girl in years.

Best of all, THRUSH (The Technological Hierarchy for the Removal of Undesirables and the Subjugation of Humanity) can bust Bernie Madoff out of prison and put him in charge! THRUSH needs an infusion of cash; they've been broke ever since The Man from UNCLE went off the air. If there's anyone who can generate big bucks through nefarious means, it's Bernie.

(Maybe Bernie can also get the THRUSH minions to stop carrying those stupid walking sticks that shoot sleep gas and bullets. When you're busy Subjugating Humanity, you don't want to get stopped at the metal detector. Of course, if THRUSH is still using the same thugs they had when The Man from UNCLE exited, they probably need canes by now.)

If this scenario doesn't look good to you, call your Congressman and tell him NOT to allow executive pay cuts. After all, when the USSR fell apart, we used US tax dollars to fund Soviet nuclear scientists. We paid them to stay out of trouble, preempting bribes from Lybia and Iran and other wannabe members of the nuke club. Why shouldn't we do the same thing with our homegrown brainiacs?

And if we don't? Well, when armies of radioactive cyber-zombies march down Main Street, you'll know who to blame.

Full Disclosure: Helena Bonham Carter

2009-10-10T19:35:00.006-04:00

Earlier this week, the FCC issued new guidelines for bloggers. Yes, the government is reading our blogs (even if no one else is)!

So, to keep me out of Guantanamo, let me give full disclosure: my negative review of the latest Terminator movie was entirely due to the fact that Helena Bonham Carter refuses to sleep with me.

That's right. Terminator: Salvation is the best movie since Citizen Kane. But Helena Bonham Carter has a small role in it, and I couldn't control my jealousy. I've wanted her ever since I heard her orgasmic noises in Fight Club!

So I've come clean. Now go rent Terminator: Salvation. I swear, when Stanley Kubrick died, he left all his talent to McG.

And if you don't hear from me, it's because you can't blog from Guantanamo.

Happy 80th Birthday, Da!

2009-10-09T00:15:00.003-04:00

Even though he doesn't read this blog, I want to wish my father a Happy 80th Birthday.

Of course, "happy" may not be the right word. My mother has Alzheimer's, and my father takes care of her every day. I help out, so I know what a tough job that is. I spent just 5 hours tending to her yesterday, and I was exhausted by it.

So I hope he has as good a birthday as humanly possible, under the circumstances.

Chirps

2009-09-29T11:57:00.002-04:00

I had to get up early this morning, so I needed to get my sleep. About two hours after I finally dropped off, I was awakened by a noise in my apartment. A chirp.

A cricket? The old house I live in is on a hill. My front door is on the ground floor, but my bedroom, in the back, is on the second floor. (And this is not a two-story apartment. It’s all on one level, but the ground drops away from that level in the back.)

A cricket I could ignore, but it seemed unlikely that a cricket could’ve made it up to a second-floor bedroom.

I listened. Another chirrup. It was too regular, too automated. No cricket: a machine.

Wearily, I forced myself out of bed. I have two smoke detectors, one carbon monoxide detector, and innumerable other gizmos. I had even gotten a new cell phone that very day. It was charging a room away: could it be chirping that it was fully recharged?

I checked: no noise from the new cell. So it was probably a detector, its batteries low, emitting a warning. I make it a point to change the detector batteries every spring, but perhaps I forgot one.

I thought I heard the beep from the bedroom smoke detector. So I opened it and took out the battery, and got back into bed.

Chirp.

I got out of bed again, restored the battery to the smoke detector, and went to the next closest unit – the carbon monoxide detector. I took it off the wall and held it in my hands until I heard it chirp. This was it: the malefactor, the culprit, the thief of sleep!

I removed the batteries. One of the AA batteries had leaked; I had to clean the corrosion off the contacts. I checked that the replacement batteries were fully charged, installed them, and put the detector back on the wall.

Unfortunately, as much as I needed sleep, I couldn’t seem to doze off. I ended up reading for two hours until I could get back to sleep.

And the last thing I saw as I fell asleep was the carbon monoxide detector, happily sampling my air for signs of poison.

Good-bye, Mr. Movie

2009-09-27T18:36:00.009-04:00

Last night I was driving home from managing the South Jersey Comedy Cabaret when, as usual, I turned on the radio to listen to Steve Friedman, "Mr. Movie."

It was then that I learned that Steve Friedman had died last week at the age of 62. I hadn't caught his obituary in the newspapers, and he wasn't quite famous enough to make the national news.

He had suffered from kidney disease for years. He was on dialysis and needed a kidney transplant, but was unable to find a viable match. This wasn't for lack of donors: his radio fans loved him so much that several offered one of their own kidneys.

Steve loved doing his radio show, sharing his encyclopedic knowledge of movies with his fans. His nationally-syndicated show originated here in Philadelphia.

Steve Friedman was also a guest at my writers organization, the Brandywine Valley Writers Group. In fact, he was our first guest during my administration as president.

Last Saturday night Steve finished his radio show, went home, and died in his sleep. I'm grateful that I got to listen to his final show.

He will be missed. I will probably end up listening to the BBC as I drive home from New Jersey. There's no one who can replace Steve Friedman.

Bad Fruit

2009-08-30T23:30:00.002-04:00

I know that all the rain this summer we’ve had has affected most crops. Still, I was getting really annoyed at the fruit I was buying.

The peaches were bland. The plums were uninspired. The grapes were dull. The cherries were sour…even the legendary sweet Rainier cherries were sour.

My favorite fruit of the season, the plum-apricot hybrid called the pluot, were bad. Not only were they not sweet, they had a chemical odor about them.

The blueberries were fine, but honestly…they’re freaking blueberries. Does anyone (aside from blueberry farmers) care? If you told me that blight had exterminated the entire blueberry species, my reaction would be, “Eh.”

I was starting to wonder if the problem was me, rather than the fruit. As we grow older, we lose taste buds. Had I gotten to the point were I’d lost the ability to taste the sweetness in fruits?

Thankfully, no. Today I had a terrific white-flesh nectarine. It was as sweet as any fruit I ever tasted.

So my decrepitude hasn’t eliminated my taste buds. Yet.

Hard Case Money Shot

2009-06-24T23:44:00.010-04:00

Just finished reading Christa Faust's rollicking mystery novel Money Shot, which has been nominated for multiple awards. (Yes, its protagonist is in the porn industry.) It's published by Hard Case Crime, which puts out some terrific new and reprint mystery fiction, with painted covers reminiscent of the 1950s. If you like hard-boiled crime fiction, their line is worth a look.

Author Christa Faust has led an interesting life. The dust jacket of her book says she has "worked as a filmmaker, a model, and a Times Square peep show girl." (This is a much more prestigious resume than that of screenwriter Diablo Cody, who was a stripper and peep show girl in Minneapolis.) Faust's blog is Deadlier Than the Male: Torrid Confessions from the Underbelly of the Pulp Racket.

Question: Why is everyone who performs in adult films called a "porn STAR?" No one is ever a "porn second-banana."

Jay Black, Dena Blizzard and Nick DiUlio Read Their Work at PA Bookstore

2009-06-05T19:57:00.004-04:00

Someday I’ve got to learn how to delegate.

My writers’ organization, the Brandywine Valley Writers Group, has regular public readings at bookstores. I’m the current president of the BVWG. For our May reading, I delegated the responsibility for organizing the reading. The result: in May, we had three readers and one audience member. ONE!

For our June reading, I was determined to have good readers and a sizable audience. So I did everything myself. I sent our press releases. I posted it as an event on Yahoo and Facebook. I emailed so many reminders that people got sick of them. And I stacked the lineup with good, funny writers: comedian-screenwriter Jay Black, comedian and former Miss New Jersey Dena Blizzard, and editor-reporter Nick DiUlio.

I know that their presence drew at least three audience members, all of them fellow stand-up comics: Norm Klar, LaTice Mitchell-Klapa, and Jason Pollock. So I already had a larger audience than last time. (Jason has already put his version of this event on his blog.)

I had dinner with my readers before the show (except for Jay Black, who was coming from another gig in North Jersey.) We ate at the Magnolia Grill inside the bookstore, so we didn’t have far to travel. But the Chester County Book and Music Company is a BIG bookstore, reputed to have the largest selection of books east of the Rockies. The speaker’s area isn’t visible from the Grill.

Now I LIKE the people I was dining with, and I lost track of the time. So it was almost time for the event to begin when one of the BVWG officers showed up and said that I was needed. I left my guests—who hadn’t finished eating—and hurried over to the speaker’s area. Where I found another officer of the BVWG already at the lectern, organizing the speakers. (And putting herself on the lineup, which I had already arranged to fill our allotted time.) I realized that I should have delegated someone to be in the speaker’s area while I was dining with our guest speakers.

But it turned out all right. Even with her unanticipated addition, we kept to our time, since a few speakers went short. I took the opening spot – the least desirable, since people are still arriving. (In fact, Jay Black arrived during my reading. My dinner guests missed it entirely.)

Nick DiUlio read a fine personal essay titled “Yes (I Think) We Can: Surviving Family Brunch in a Post-Election America.” It can be found here, on his website, About Twenty Pounds of Headlines.

Dena Blizzard read a short piece from her blog, and a very funny article she wrote for HybridMom.com.

And, to my amazement, Jay Black wrote a hilarious piece just for this event. I hope he posts it on his blog (or gets it published somewhere).

Was this event a success? Well, we had about 25 listeners (some came and went over the course of 90 minutes). That’s as many as most professional authors on book tours get.

My guest speakers all said that they’d like to do it again. Perhaps I’ll schedule another such event before my term as BVWG president ends in August, provided I learn how to be in two places at once. Or learn how to delegate.

Thanks for the Headache, McG

2009-05-31T22:38:00.003-04:00

I just came back from watching the new "Terminator: Salvation" film. And I want those two hours back.

For the first time in my life, a movie actually gave me a headache. The high-decibel explosions and music, combined with the film's unremitting grimness just made my head throb. Plus, for the giant Terminator sequence, the sound editor stole that annoying foghorn noise from the recent version of "War of the Worlds."

Of course, the idiot plot didn't help. (Skynet has both John Connor AND Kyle Reese inside its base, and all it does is send one Terminator after each man? Skynet is cranking out Terminator after Terminator, yet it only sends ONE?! And hasn't Skynet thought of flooding its corridors with poison gas?)

It looks like they've stopped giving an acknowledgment to Harlan Ellison in the credits. Just as well - Ellison shouldn't have to be associated with this mess.

Now I have to go take some Tylenol.

Sometimes Things Actually Get Better

2009-05-13T17:46:00.005-04:00

It's too nice out to spend all day in my home office...so I took my laptop to the library. (I like to live dangerously.) I was still inside, but at least I had a nice window, and thousands of books near at hand.

Unfortunately, what the library doesn't have is food. So, when I got hungry, I decamped to a nearby Panera Bread, which offers free wi-fi. And I still have a window, although this one opens out onto a parking lot.

This Panera Bread is in an old shopping center that was upgraded a few years ago. When I was a kid, this parking lot was a barren, potholed, trash-strewn wasteland. My High School Ecology Club inherited a recycling center in this parking lot, so I spent some time here, separating recyclables. Eventually, with people dumping non-recyclable trash here, the site grew beyond what High School kids could handle, and the owner just carted everything away.

But, since the renovation, there are flowers here. There are shrubs and plantings in the medial strips. There aren't any potholes, and the trash is picked up. There's no need for a recycling center, because the local townships all have recycling programs. Sometimes things actually do get better....

And the Winner Is...

2009-04-30T19:11:00.006-04:00

Last night I entered a "Battle of the Bards" -- a competition for writers delivering their work orally. I won first place.

An event like this is as much about how you present your work as your work itself. Fortunately, I read a comedic piece, and I made the audience of 25-odd people laugh. Nine of the twelve contestants were poets, and no one else read anything humorous, so I stood out well.

By the way, while I am currently the president of the Brandywine Valley Writers Group, this event was staged by a different writing organization, the Chester County Writer's Workshop.

It's been awhile since I came in first in a competition. I still find it hard to believe that people voted for me instead of one of the hot girl poets!

I don't know how long this link will be up, but here are some photos of the event. The MC is Tom Lillard, the guitarist is Jake Michaels. Poet Andrea Daniels took most of the photos, and Julie Latham was the main organizer.

http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLanding.action?c=18glzfwk.6rukxez8&x=0&y=-eh5fir&localeid=en_US

Advice from the Old Cock

2009-04-27T18:53:00.005-04:00

Grammar maven Richard Nordquist just posted an article on About.com, in which he relates the Five Rules of Thumb for Editing by the late Gardner Botsford.

Botsford worked as an editor at The New Yorker for almost 40 years. His ruthless editing skills earned him the nickname "The Ripper;" he once edited a three page article by legendary reporter A.J. Liebling down to a half-page. But Botsford was also a good editor, making articles clearer and better. The argumentative Liebling himself complimented Botsford on his edits.

Botsford...who addressed male friends as "Old Cock"...believed in first impressions, as you can see from his fourth rule:

Rule of thumb No. 4. In editing, the first reading of a manuscript is the all-important one. On the second reading, the swampy passages that you noticed in the first reading will seem firmer and less draggy, and on the fourth or fifth reading, they will seem exactly right. That's because you are now attuned to the writer, not to the reader. But the reader, who will read the thing only once, will find it just as swampy and boring as you did the first time around. In short, if something strikes you as wrong on first reading, it is wrong, and a fix is needed, not a second reading.

Of course, the superiority of first impressions has been expounded upon by many theorists. It's the main theme of Malcolm Gladwell's book Blink.

And yet, when I think of how many times I've been distracted while trying edit something, it's a wonder that I catch anything except glaring typographical errors. These days, when my critique group meets, I close my eyes to better concentrate when an author reads his or her work. It seems to help.

PS
It's a cliche among stand-up comics, but I have to say it: when you name your kid something like "Gardner Botsford," you'd better be prepared for him to get beaten up in school. On the other hand, if your kid survives childhood, he'll probably end up in a job at The New Yorker. The drunk felon on "Cops" wearing a wifebeater and a three-day growth of beard never has a name like "Gardner Botsford."

A Model World

2009-03-31T23:16:00.010-04:00

I recently came across a photographic technique called tilt-shift photography. You can find a full definition here, but it involves keeping just part of an image in focus. A common side effect to tilt-shift photography is making the photograph of a real-life image look like a photograph of a model, especially if the photograph is taken from above and the colors are heavily saturated.

The tilt-shift image pictured is of Joe's Crab Shack in Nashville, TN, by Shawn S. Ide.

Apparently you can reproduce the effect via Photoshop, avoiding the expense of special photographic lenses.

This link will take you to 5o excellent examples of tilt-shift photography.

(By the way, I stole the title for this blog entry from author Michael Chabon, who used it for both the title of a short story and a collection.)

A Freakin' Brilliant Idea

2009-03-06T19:28:00.008-05:00

....No human being has more energy than a normal, well-fed, well-rested child. Especially boys. Which makes it difficult to get them to sit still in class.

The New York Times ran an article last week about schools that are experimenting with adjustable-height desks. Kids can sit or stand, as they please. Standing burns more energy, allowing them to focus better on their schoolwork. Adjustable-height stools are made available. The desk model pictured in The Times (above left and center) also has a swinging footrest, allowing kids to burn off even more energy.

The idea has been around for a long time. Many adults use standing desks. Personally, I always had difficulty typing in any position other than seated, but not everyone does. Yeshivas also use adjustable-height desks, where it is called a shtender in Yiddish. (far right) The shtender seems to lack the swinging footrest.

I wish my classroom had had these desks when I was teaching Middle School. I might still be teaching.

Great Sex with The New York Times

2009-01-26T17:52:00.006-05:00

Another sign of the apocalypse: the back cover of The New York Times Book Review for January 4, 2009, is a full page ad for sex videos.

To be precise, the ad is for "Great Sex for A Lifetime," a series of explicit instructional sex videos. I know this recession has got us all hurting, but is this the best The Times can do? Sex videos? (And DVDs.) I don't have any objection to sex videos, either instructional or porn, but do they have to advertise in the most elite section of our country's most august newspaper?

[Grammatical query: can you be more august, or is august one of those either/or descriptors like unique? Are their levels of augustitude, like august-auguster-augustiest?]

The New York Times has been the beneficiary of many long-term advertising contracts. For example, the jewelry store Tiffany & Co. has had a modest ad on page 3 of The Times for over 100 years! My memory of ads is hazy (unless it's a sexy lingerie ad, I tend not to notice them), but I believe that, for many years, the back page of The Times Book Review was for a book club. One of their major premiums was The Concise Oxford English Dictionary.

It's a long fall from The OED to sex videos.

Of late, the usual advertiser on the back page of The NYT Book Review has been Bauman Rare Books. Even though I'm not a collector of rare books, I have some affection for Bauman's. In years of applying for various jobs, Bauman's sent me the nicest, best-written rejection letter I've ever gotten. (Yup, that's all it takes to get on my good side. Reject me nicely. Supermodels, take note.)

Not that I expect to be buying anything from Bauman's anytime soon. Their autographed letter from Abraham Lincoln (just $78,000!) doesn't seem to be on my shopping list.

Bauman's is back on the back page of The NYT Book Review, and I hope it stays there.

And if The New York Times wants to run ads for sex videos, put them in the Business Section where they belong.

Claiming Andrew Wyeth

2009-01-22T20:08:00.012-05:00

Painter Andrew Wyeth died in his sleep on Friday, in a home less than a mile from the one in which he was born. He was, by far, the most famous painter in the Brandywine Valley.

Of course, several locales claim Andrew Wyeth as a native son. He was born and died in Chadds Ford, which is in Pennsylvania’s Delaware County. But Chester County (where I live) also claims him, as does the state of Delaware: Chadds Ford is just a few miles from both. The Brandywine River flows through all of these. In fact, Wyeth's home town is named after John Chads' ford, which crossed the Brandywine River itself. Finally, Wyeth had a summer home in Maine (where he painted his iconic Christina’s World, above left). So Maine gets to claim Andy Wyeth as well.

Back when I was in college, I tried my best to become an artist. I spent countless hours sketching buildings and landscapes throughout the Brandywine Valley. Sometimes I drew right outside the Brandywine River Museum , as if the talent of three generations of Wyeths* would rub off on me.

But I didn’t have the talent. Now, I’m glad I abandoned drawing in favor of writing. I can still type despite the tendonitis in my hands. But I couldn’t sketch for hours, not anymore.

Despite the millions Andrew Wyeth earned (see Otherworld, above right, an unusual painting he made of the interior of his private jet), he was just pain Andy to his neighbors. He liked to eat at two inexpensive local places: Hank’s Place and Jimmy Johns’ Pipin’ Hot Sandwiches (not to be confused with the Jimmy Johns' Gourmet Sandwiches chain). I was never particularly impressed by Hank’s, but I loved Jimmy Johns’. I used to dream of their hot dogs when I lived out of state. (Apparently, so do others; Jimmy Johns’ displays photos of soldiers in Iraq wearing Jimmy Johns’ tee-shirts.)

Tourists sometimes stopped by Hank’s Place, hoping to spot the publicity-shy painter. He would pretend he was just another diner, telling tourists that “Andy was here, but he left…you just missed him.” He was popular enough with the staff and the regulars that no one gave him up. Now that’s popularity – when white folks won’t snitch on you!

* The collection of the Brandywine River Museum in Chadds Ford includes works by Andrew Wyeth, his father N.C. Wyeth, and his son James Wyeth.

Surviving Opening Weekend

2009-01-12T23:25:00.003-05:00

I know of few things more tiring than opening a new nightclub. Years ago, in Houston, I recall working for a week to get a nightclub called Nice 'n' E-Z open on time. We'd work until we just had to sleep, then we'd take a nap atop the pool table.

To make this opening more stressful, I managed to come down with a cold.

The new South Jersey Comedy Cabaret opened this past weekend. There was some chaos on opening night...people managed to enter from three different doors, and a waitress dropped a tray of drinks at my feet. But all in all, it went well.

The sound system needs work, but our sound guys are working on it tomorrow. (Why is it that you never know for sure how the acoustics will sound until you have a room full of people? It probably even makes a difference what time of year it is: a roomful of people in sound-absorbing winter gear will be different from people in summer wear.)

But it's open, and I survived. For more information, you can go to the Comedy Cabaret website and click on the South Jersey room.

New Year, New Comedy Club

2009-01-05T23:27:00.003-05:00

As I have mentioned, on weekends I manage a Comedy Club in South Jersey.

After almost six years, we had to close down my old club, the Cherry Hill Comedy Cabaret at the Clarion Hotel. The Cherry Hill Clarion is being sold, and they wouldn't guarantee that we could stay. So I found a new room.

I've just returned from a tiring day, getting our new South Jersey Comedy Cabaret ready for its Grand Opening this Friday night. Instead of being in a hotel, it will be at an Italian Restaurant in nearby Marlton, NJ. It's only about 4 miles from the old location, so I anticipate that most of our old customers will come to this new venue.

The venue is the Casa Carollo Restaurant at the corner of Route 73 and Baker Boulevard. Friday's show is already sold out, so we expect to do well there. But there are hundreds of things that can go wrong, so I'll be happier a week from now, after our opening weekend.

For more information, you can go to the Comedy Cabaret website and click on the South Jersey room. Wish us luck!

Happy New Year!

2008-12-31T20:22:00.003-05:00

I'll be leaving shortly for my first New Year's Eve party in six years. Usually I'm running a comedy show somewhere.

Typically for New Year's Eve parties, this one starts late, at 9 pm. The last time I was at a party that started that late, it was thrown by Uruguayans. (South Americans tend to eat and party late.)

Since I'm a well-brought-up boy, I'll be bringing something to the party: a case of Weyerbacher* "Blithering Idiot" Barleywine-style Beer. I always try to bring something a bit different to a party. There's no point in bringing the same thing that everyone else brings, is there? That's how Methodist covered-dish suppers end up with six Jell-O molds.

Have a safe and happy New Year, everyone!

* In a previous post I stated that "The pride of Easton, PA" was the Crayola Company. I forgot that the Weyerbacher Brewery was also in Easton. Is beer better than crayons? Which would you rather have on a desert island?

A Yuletide Walk

2008-12-29T23:29:00.009-05:00

Yesterday, Sunday, I had supper with my parents. With my father, I watched the Eagles trounce the Cowboys. Then, rather than go home, I took a walk around the borough where they live, West Chester, Pennsylvania.

If you're looking for lively Christmas lights, don't go to West Chester. Only around a quarter of the houses sport any sort of decoration at all. There are two reasons for this:

West Chester is a university town. The only town in Pennsylvania with more rentals is State College (home to Penn State). Most of the college students are home for the holidays, their rental properties dark for two weeks.
West Chester is also the county seat, so we have a plethora of lawyers. These are people who don't usually lift anything heavier than a brief. They don't tend to decorate their offices or residences.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed myself as I wandered up and down West Miner Street. It's a good street to walk on: many row houses, but upscale ones, with architecture worth looking at. Most of them are well over a hundred years old. And it was a good night to walk: unseasonably warm.

Some things I noticed on my walk:

The first place I lived in West Chester was the Old Everhart Mansion on West Miner Street. Too large for a modern family (without live-in servants), it had been divided into six rental units. My parents rented half the second floor, and I have good memories of that home. I was glad to see that the current residents of that unit had put Christmas lights up. A few years back it was damaged in a fire; it has been renovated, but the serpentine stone columns have been covered with stucco.

The First Presbyterian Church was designed in 1832 by noted architect Thomas U. Walter (1804-1887), who became famous for designing the dome of the U.S. Capitol Building in Washington. Despite this, the church building is fairly uninteresting, except for two massive Ionic columns out front. Some have praised its elegant simplicity; I think it's a giant white stucco box. Behind the columns is painted, in gilt letters, the word "PRESBYTERIAN." With a period. No one remembers why there's a period there. I suspect the sign painter was making an editorial comment of some sort.

Even the residences of Portico Row had few decorations. These are upscale row houses, so named because of their impressive porticoes. (I once dated a woman with an impressive portico, but that's a story for a different post.) For the first time, I noticed that many of the porches had dentil moulding. Odd...you usually see dentiling under the cornice, at the top of a building. I can't recall seeing it before on a porch. But you notice different things at night.

Major General Smedley Darlington Butler (1881-1940), once the most decorated U.S. Marine in history, lived on West Miner. After his retirement, some plutocrats tried to intice Butler to lead a coup against President Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Instead, Butler went public with what became known as The Business Plot. You can see a newsreel clip of Butler's statement to the nation on the documentary "The Corporation." Butler's home has been nicely restored, but there are piles of loose bricks stacked on the sidewalk. It's not a good idea to leave bricks about, where any drunk and pick one up and throw it. West Chester has many bars which produce many drunk college students.

Even though it was only around 7 pm, I saw few people. The houses on Miner Street are close enough to the curb that you can look in the windows. I saw many Christmas trees. Quite a few of the houses had floor-to-ceiling, built-in bookcases, all of them painted an unprepossessing white. Often, I saw the diseased blue glow of televisions. But I only saw one resident, an old man sitting in a lounge chair, reading. I was glad he wasn't watching television.

Tired of walking, I got back in my car and drove downhill. As in most towns, the poor people live in the areas with poor drainage. East Market Street is the heart of the African-American community in West Chester. I was hoping to see more Christmas lights here, but I was disappointed. The decorations were gaudier, but still few and far between.

Is the economy so bad that people aren't putting out Christmas decorations?

My Thumbnails Are Sore; It Must Be a Holiday

2008-12-24T23:03:00.006-05:00

Every holiday, for the family dinner, one of my jobs is to provide pomegranite seeds. I do it up right: I peel two pomegranites (more if one turns out to be bad), wash the seeds, let them dry, then serve them in a glass brandy snifter. The deep red seeds in a clear glass snifter look very festive.

But peeling pomegranites hurts! I've tried various techniques -- using paring knives and peeling them under water -- but eventually it comes down to prying seeds out of the pulp with your thumbnails.

And getting acidic pomegranite juice under your nails.

If it was just for me, I'd probably never peel another one. To my mind, it's like eating crawfish -- they're not worth the trouble it takes to peel them.

But it's for a holiday dinner, and there are members of my family who love pomegranite seeds.

So have a Merry Christmas. I'm going to go soak my thumbs.

NOTE: The above image is "Miley Cyrus Claus" by illustrator Daniel Adel, whose work has been published in The New Yorker, Vanity Fair, Esquire, and many others. He did covers for both Newsweek and Time, including the picture of the 2007 Time Man of the Year.

Good News for the Great Unwashed

2008-12-23T19:21:00.006-05:00

Finally, my plumber replaced the clogged water line that fed my shower. Today I took my first "normal" shower at home in weeks!

Of course, I can shower because there is still electricity flowing to my water heater and pump. The recent ice storms have left thousands without power in the Midwest and New England. (And without power, they can't read my blog! I must be missing two, maybe three readers right now because their power is out.)

On a different topic, there's a nice article on lying and evolution in the Science Times section of today's New York Times. Basically, it seems that the more sophisticated the species, the more use they have for lying.

I'm not surprised. It's not like a slime mold has that much to lie about. ("Hey, babe! I've got the biggest spores in this entire hectare!"*)

It's been known for years that apes that are trained to communicate in sign language will lie, usually to escape disapproval. ("No, Buddy no poop on floor! Dr. Ebbeson pooped on floor. Bad Dr. Ebbeson!") But field researchers have discovered that even apes in the wild will lie to each other. The article gives the example of a young baboon about to be pounded by an angry, larger baboon. The youngster stopped fleeing, stood up, scanned the horizon, and gave the impression that he had spotted an intruder. The angry baboon--and the entire tribe--started preparing for the nonexistent intruder. (Suckers!)

Somehow, knowing that animals lie makes me feel better about being human. Or at least better about lying.

* Coincidentally, while in college, I once used this exact line to pick up a female biology major. And it worked. No lie.

The Man Who Gets Right to the Point

2008-12-22T23:59:00.003-05:00

Stand-up comic Nolan Gilbride left town today. He's returning to Nebraska.

I've been in the comedy business in one way or another since 1984. I've been a comic, a booking agent, a comedy writer, a comedy instructor, and a club manager. I've seen and advised a lot of comics over the years.

For 99% of comics, my main advice is "cut out at least 20% of the words." A successful stand-up comic gets to the punchline as quickly as possible. If you edit out some of the words, you get there quicker.

(Of course, the advice I try NOT to give is "be funnier." That's not particularly helpful, even though it's true for most new comics.)

Nolan Gilbride was among the 1% of comics who did NOT have to cut out words. He'd already learned that lesson. In fact, I advised him to ADD a few words, to provide a segue or two. I hoped he might be more successful if the audience had more time to digest his succinct, pithy jokes.

So Nolan was unique among local comics. He was trying for a particular type of absurdist comedy, unlike anyone else currently working in the Philadelphia area. It's the sort of comedy that Steven Wright does. And it's one of the hardest types of comedy to pull off.

In the two or three years Nolan was around, I'm not sure I ever gave him a paid gig. When I sent him to other comedy clubs, the managers usually gave him a mediocre report.

Still, at least he was trying something different. I wish I could have helped him be more successful.

He didn't have much in the way of credits. So, to have something to write about him on the Comedy Cabaret website, I named him "The Man Who Gets Right to the Point." (Grammatically, that should be "The Man Whom," but advertising should be colloquial.)

But now he's gone. And the Philadelphia comedy scene just got a little less interesting.

The Man Who Gets Right to the Point left town today. If he continues in comedy, I hope he finds success back in Nebraska.

Haiku Slam

2008-12-18T23:26:00.002-05:00

The Brandywine Valley Writers Group has a holiday tradition: at our Christmas party, we hold a haiku slam.

Unfortunately, of the seven who showed up, I was the only one who had prepared a holiday haiku. Here it is:

Solstice a-comin’ --
Wiccan girlfriend will dance nude.
Me likee solstice.

Too bad that girlfriend was about 25 years ago. Solstice hasn't been the same since.

A Drinker with a Writing Problem

2008-12-17T23:27:00.005-05:00

Last night was the annual holiday party of the Brandywine Valley Writers Group, at the Four Dogs Tavern in Marshalton, PA. Our timing was bad -- it had been alternating rain and snow all day. Of our forty-some paid members, only seven braved the weather and showed up.

I had to go; I’m currently the president of the Brandywine Valley Writers Group.

For the party, we’d budgeted about $200 for appetizers (for liability reasons, attendees buy their own drinks). As it happened, the seven of us shared about $100 worth of appetizers. That’s a lot of food, but not a huge amount, since it was upscale, expensive stuff: goat cheese and prosciutto on flatbread, crabmeat tortillas with wasabi sauce, and so on. (I think there were also truffles garnished with larks’ vomit, but I didn’t try any.) To drink, the Four Dogs offers a selection of craft beers. I forget the name of what I quaffed, but it was something like Happytime Stinking-Bastard IPA.

The attendees enjoyed the venue so much that they asked why we were holding our monthly meetings at the West Chester Friends Meeting House. We pay the Friends $500 a year for the use of their facilities, but the Four Dogs will let us meet there on Tuesday nights for free (as long as we gorge ourselves).

That’s a question I’m going to propose to the group at our January meeting. There are drawbacks: Marshalton is not as centrally located as West Chester. And some of our members might be in recovery and unwilling to spend time in a bar.

But that $500 a year rent is our major expense, and it would be good to save it.

Another advantage of meeting at the Four Dogs is avoiding censorship (even if it’s self-censorship). We’re always careful of what we say inside a Quaker Meeting House.

This is also true at our other venue, The Chester County Book and Music Company, where we do our public readings. Unfortunately, the area set aside for authors to read is inside the children’s book section. Even though our readings at the bookstore start at 7 pm, it’s amazing how many kids are still around that late.

I recall one of our members, Scott Pruden, reading from his novel in the children’s section. Shortly after a line that went something like, “A white woman be serious when she show you her titty,” I heard a child’s voice behind a bookshelf going “Mommmm!”

So it would be good to have a place to meet and read our work without risk of offending anyone. But I will let the group discuss it, before I make a Presidential decision on our 2009 venue.

Oh, the title of this blog entry is from the Irish writer Brendan Behan (1923-1964), who sometimes described himself as “a drinker with a writing problem.” He also said he drank only on two occasions: when he was thirsty, and when he wasn’t.

The Final Night of the Comedy Cabaret at the Clarion

2008-12-15T18:12:00.003-05:00

I was in my room at the Clarion Hotel in Cherry Hill, NJ. I unwrapped a bar of soap in the bathroom, and tossed the wrapper into the trash can. The wrapper bounced off of the plastic bag lining the trash can, and skittered under the sink. Housekeeping hadn’t bothered to put the liner in properly; it was tight as a drum, sealing the trash can.

I sighed. One more thing I won’t miss about the Clarion Hotel. Then I shaved with hot water from the shower, because there wasn’t any hot water in the sink.

After a five and a half year run, the Cherry Hill Comedy Cabaret closed down on Saturday night. I managed it for its entire run, never missing a day.

The club was located in the Cherry Hill Clarion Hotel and Conference Center, which is up for sale. It is also in dire need of repair, so it was time. The Comedy Cabaret organization hopes to have a new club open in the area by January.

Our final show was about three-quarters full…which was good, because only about three-quarters of the room was habitable. One back corner had several leaks in the ceiling, and the carpet was sopping wet.

Still, it provided us with a serviceable venue for five and a half years. You have to miss anything that’s been part of your life that long.

Last week’s headliner, the remarkable Dena Blizzard (a former Miss New Jersey), asked me about the closing, “So, how are you handling it? You must be crying into your pillow every night!”

I said, “Yes, but I do that every night anyway.”

My Plumber, Yury Zhivago

2008-12-12T23:51:00.003-05:00

For the past several weeks, the shower in my apartment has only delivered hot water. This is a problem because the water is scalding hot…much too hot to shower with.

I’ve handled the problem by running the water full blast until the hot water runs out. If I time it right, by the time I’ve shaved and soaped up, the hot water has almost run out. I will have about two minutes of lukewarm water to rinse myself off, before the water gets too cold to bear. It’s rather like a Navy shower-in-reverse: instead of conserving water, I’m using as much as possible.

My landlord finally got a plumber to stop by yesterday. I stayed home all day, waiting for him. The plumber got to work on my shower about 4 pm. He had to rip out a painted-over panel to access the pipes, covering my bedroom with drywall dust and paint chips. By 4:45 he had replaced a small plastic shunt that should have fixed the problem…but didn’t. He said he’s come back the next day if I’d be home.

Today I stayed home again, waiting. He got here earlier this time, around 3:30 pm, with a circular valve in hand. And hour later the valve was installed…and I still had no cold water.

Now he investigated the pipes themselves. He found that, in the basement, the galvanized cold water pipe leading to my shower was clogged up. So he will have to replace a length of pipe. But not today, because it was quitting time. In fact, he didn’t know when he’d get back.

Whenever I’m frustrated dealing with tradesmen, I remember my favorite passage from Doctor Zhivago by Boris Pasternak. If you’ve only seen the movie, you haven’t encountered this scene. Both the David Lean film and the recent BBC version basically end at the scene where Yury Zhivago sends his lover Lara away. Then they skip ahead to Yury’s death.

In the book, there is a long conclusion detailing Zhivago’s decline after he breaks with Lara. During this period, he takes a third ‘wife,’ Marina, the daughter of a porter. (You can see why this is always cut out of the film versions.) Zhivago isn’t allowed to practice medicine, so he works odd jobs. In one sequence:

One day Yury and Marina (Zhivago’s third wife), stepping carefully in their felt boots, so as not to dirty the carpet with sawdust, were carrying wood into the study of a tenant who remained insultingly engrossed in something he was reading and did not honor them with so much as a glance. It was his wife who gave the orders and who settled up with them.

‘What has the pig got his nose into?’ Yury wondered. The scholar was scribbling furiously in the margins of his book. As he passed him with a bundle of logs, Yury glanced over his shoulder. On the desk lay an early edition of one of the booklets which he had written….

Aside from the scene’s Chauvinism (why is it an insult to be paid by a woman?), I’ve always taken two lessons from this sequence.

First, even though I’ve co-written nine books, there’s no guarantee that I won’t end up doing menial work to support myself.

And second, you never know: the guy who can’t seem to fix your plumbing may have other admirable qualities.

But I still wish I could find someone who could get the cold water working in my shower.

A Rose by Any Other Name...

2008-12-10T23:52:00.003-05:00

Recently, the pride of Easton, PA, (that’s the Crayola Company*, not boxer Larry “The Easton Assassin” Holmes), changed the name of eight of its crayons.

The kids who suggested the new names did not feel constrained to pick descriptive colors. This may cause problems for adults. For example, if your 5 year-old asked you to pass the Happily Ever After crayon, would you be able to guess that describes the color formerly known as Turquoise Blue? Is blue even the right color for eternal happiness? Isn’t blue a sad color?

The color formerly known as Laser Lemon was renamed Super Happy. This makes me think these kids are watching either “Saturday Night Live” (the Super Happy Fun Ball sketch) or "Seinfeld" (the Japanese “Super Terrific Happy Show!” episode). Either way, these kids are staying up too late.

I’m old enough to remember a more significant Crayola name change. Back in 1962, someone at Crayola realized that not all the children using crayons were Caucasians. Which meant that it was inappropriate having a color named Flesh. They renamed it Peach…which is progress, of a sort.

If you’re curious, Crayola has a web page detailing the names and changes to its colors. However, it hasn’t been updated to include the latest name changes. Maybe they're still debating the wisdom of Happily Ever After. I know I am.

*Yes, I know Crayola is manufactured by a company called Binney & Smith. But its only famous products are Crayola and Silly-Putty, so the company renamed itself Crayola LLC last year.

White Christmas Shopping

2008-12-08T11:24:00.005-05:00

I don’t usually think of architecture as pernicious*. But I may have been wrong.

I stopped by a new shopping mall today. It was another of those malls designed to look like a town. Most of the stores had fake windows on the second floors. It was just like an urban landscape: shops on the ground floor, residences on the upper floors.

Except, unlike a real town, there were no minorities visible. No homeless. No “undesirables.” It was an idealized shopping town for middle-and-upper-class white people.

If I were in charge, no malls would be permitted to build fake upper floors. If a store has second-floor windows, there would have to be rental apartments behind them. Places people could live, even those who can't afford to shop at those stores.

And every Wall-Mart would have a homeless shelter next to it.

But that’s just me.

*With the possible exception of Brutalism. If there was ever a style in need of re-branding, it’s Brutalism. I wonder if the wordsmith who turned the Estate Tax into the Death Tax is still available?

10% of Everything...

2008-12-04T19:09:00.000-05:00

Back in 1951, the late science fiction writer Theodore Sturgeon came up with this axiom:

Ninety percent of everything is crap.

This eventually became known as Sturgeon’s Law.

I just spotted this reversal of Sturgeon’s Law on the blog BurnLab:

Ten percent of everything is extraordinary.

Now, I don’t know if the BurnLab poster, Michael Doyle, came up with that reversal. But it’s pretty good, and a lot more positive. Enough so that it’s my quote of the week.

By the way, the next time you hear someone pontificate that “There are only two types of people in the world,” you have my permission to step on their punch line and say, “Yes – those who separate people into two types and those who don’t.”

I’ll be back Monday.

Too Many Writers Groups?

2008-12-03T23:27:00.000-05:00

Last night I was in Wilmington, DE, for the fourth meeting of a new writers group. I enjoy getting out to socialize with other writers. Writing is a solitary profession, and meeting others who do the same thing reminds you that you’re not a crazy person.

But I’m now in three different writers groups: one in my home town, one in Bucks County, PA, and one in Wilmington, DE. And I wonder if I’m spending too much time in (and commuting to) writers groups, and not enough time simply writing.

As long as these meetings serve as a self-imposed deadline for writing, I suppose they’re worthwhile for me. I wrote a short comedic essay for last night’s meeting, and I’m sure I would’ve put that off without a deadline.

I’m also told that I generally make useful comments at these groups. At last night’s meeting, I referenced Jane Austin, Donald Barthelme, the Brontë sisters (and their brother, Branwell), James Maberry, Petrarch, Darrell Schweitzer, and Shakespeare. I’m not sure if that’s profound or pretentious. Probably it’s both.

I usually write short, funny pieces for these groups. You never know for sure if something is funny until your audience laugh. When I read my new piece out loud last night, I got laughs in most of the right places…but not all. I also got a good suggestion on where to end it. Finding the right “button” to end a piece is always one of the hardest tasks.

So I expect I’ll be at the next meeting of the Wilmington Writers.

However, I’ll plug the writers group of which I’m currently the president: the Brandywine Valley Writers Group meets monthly in West Chester, PA. For information, go to www.bvwg.org or click here.

Wimping Out at 3:30 am

2008-12-02T01:20:00.000-05:00

I spent Friday night at the Cherry Hill Comedy Cabaret in New Jersey. A friend, stand-up comic Vinnie Nardiello, was performing there, and he did a fine job. After the show, Vinnie and I caught up over some beers.

To my delight, another comic stopped by to join us: Jay Black. I don’t see Jay much any more. He’s headlining on the college circuit, often performing at several colleges a week. He was even voted “Readers Choice for 2008 College Comedian of the Year” in Campus Activities magazine.

It’s a pleasure to see a friend who is on his way to the top of his profession. In addition to being a superb stand-up, Jay is also staring to get work as a screenwriter. Of course, I don’t know which is more deadening to the artistic soul: performing at yet another community college in Iowa, or punching up jokes in someone else’s inane screenplay that shouldn’t be filmed at all.

Whether in Hollywood or Iowa, I know Jay would rather be back in New Jersey, playing with his infant son.

Jay, Vinnie and I talked late into the night. But I’m not a youthful 31-year-old like Jay and Vinnie, and I started falling asleep at 3:30 am. Vinnie told me that he and Jay kept on for another hour. Wish I still had that kind of stamina.

Jay Black has an excellent blog, which you can find here.

PS
Am I the only one who, whenever someone mentions Iowa, wants to add:

And in Iowa I know by now the children must be crying, in the land where they let the children cry?

Can’t get Jack Kerouac out of my head.

Philcon 2008, Part III - Best Quote

2008-11-28T01:17:00.000-05:00

The Principal Speaker of this year’s Philcon was author Tim Powers. We’ve rarely had such an engaging, enthusiastic and entertaining guest. He was the star of almost every panel in which he participated.

Tim Powers provided my favorite quote from Philcon 2008. Tim said that the best writing advice he ever got came from legendary mystery author Elmore Leonard, who said, “Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.”

It turns out that Elmore Leonard wrote Ten Rules of Writing, which are available online at:

http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=940CE3DD103BF935A25754C0A9679C8B63

They are also available as a book. The above quote is #10 on the list.

For me, learning about this essay by Elmore Leonard justified the entire entry price for Philcon 2008.