I'm trying to incorporate Eddie and Margaret's children more into the piece, but I'm finding it challenging because I don't have any children myself and thereby can't understand what that must feel like.
Monday, June 29, 2009
we were young then.
I'm trying to incorporate Eddie and Margaret's children more into the piece, but I'm finding it challenging because I don't have any children myself and thereby can't understand what that must feel like.
Friday, June 26, 2009
the life of an artist, part deux.
Today I applied for two grants from Oregon's Literary Arts. Here's hoping.
And I'm working on what I'll submit to the South Carolina Arts Commission in October.
Funding is hard to do.
I haven't been able to write in a couple of days. boo.
My mom and youngest sister were visiting from South Carolina. I really liked having them here, but will admit that the trip exhausted me. I didn't write while they were here, or read much. I'm glad that I'm getting more into the habit of writing, but I wonder if it's more that I have nothing much else to do right now, being unemployed, than that I want to finish the novel. Sometimes I feel that this is purposeless and I get discouraged. I was talking to my soon-to-be new roommate yesterday. She wanted to hang out and get some beers but I had to meet my writing group, and told her so. She brushed it off, calling it my "book club," and unintentionally made me feel pretty low about myself. I'm a writer, but how can I prove that with nothing to my name? Sometimes I wish that I was just like everybody else.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
what you were probably watching in 1988
Bill Cosby's Dr. Heathcliff Huxtable joked his way to comedic stardom and national popularity. "You know, America is a great place, but it doesn't have a place where you can get rid of your kids."
| 1. | The Cosby Show (NBC) |
| 2. | A Different World (NBC) |
| 3. | Cheers (NBC) |
| 4. | The Golden Girls (NBC) |
| 5. | Growing Pains (ABC) |
| 6. | Who's the Boss? (ABC) |
| 7. | Night Court (NBC) |
| 8. | 60 Minutes (CBS) |
| 9. | Murder, She Wrote (CBS) |
| 10. | Alf (NBC) |
Thursday, June 18, 2009
last night I was asked out on a date.
It's true, a date. Me. It was awkward, to say the least, so I made a joke of it and let it go. Luckily it was on the phone and not in real life. But, of course, I'm making the connection with my story in my head and here on the virtual page.
I've been re-working chapter two, and I'm sort of stuck on where to go with it. Originally it was set two years behind the first chapter, but after countless workshops informing me that it was more confusing than anything, I've decided to move it up to the present time. Essentially I had to cut about twenty-two pages and write all new stuff. And I was unable to find a way to end the chapter, and now that this whole date thing's come up, I think I'll go with that.
A 300-lb. lady gets asked out. I'm looking forward to it.
I've been re-working chapter two, and I'm sort of stuck on where to go with it. Originally it was set two years behind the first chapter, but after countless workshops informing me that it was more confusing than anything, I've decided to move it up to the present time. Essentially I had to cut about twenty-two pages and write all new stuff. And I was unable to find a way to end the chapter, and now that this whole date thing's come up, I think I'll go with that.
A 300-lb. lady gets asked out. I'm looking forward to it.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
reading...
I asked my friend Kendra when I first started the MFA program (it was, at the time, still an MA program) what her writing process was like. She is a busy girl--social, fun, smart, the type of person that is always out doing something. She's written four novels, I think, or possibly five, and she's maybe thirty. Here I am struggling to put a sentence together at age twenty-six. Sigh. Needless to say, I really look up to her, both as a writer and a person. I never had an older sister and I find myself constantly looking for those sibling like qualities in a friend.
She told me that she spends about eight hours a day on writing stuff. In a good day, that is. Eight hours, I thought. Shit. I will never be able to devote that much time. I have school, and pets, and television, after all (that was when I had cable). But she explained that it's not an eight-hour session, but an accumulation of pockets of time spent reading and thinking and doodling and writing. That, I told her, I can do.
Since then, I've broken my writing time into segments and tried to do more than sort-of think about my character development while stalking old enemies on myspace. I've been reading a lot of Welty, Flannery O'Connor, and Chekhov. Recently I read the short story "The Culprit" by Chekhov. He writes about an "ignorant" character, ie the culprit, who is actually much smarter, as well as innocent, than he seems. Typical, I know. But there was a particular line by the peasant character Denis Grigoryev that I enjoyed: "That's what you're educated for, our protectors, to understand. The Lord knew to whom to give understanding...Here you've figured out how and what, but the watchman, a peasant like us, with no brains at all, he gets you by the collar and pulls you in. You should figure it out first and then pull people in. But it's known, a peasant has the brains of a peasant..." (105-106). This is of course "true" in many different regards with the given hierarchy of education, though it is often not true in real life.
My character Eddie thinks he's a genius though he's not. But he's a lot smarter than anyone, including himself, gives him credit for.
So this is my long tangent about the writing process. It is now three in the afternoon and I've been trying to write all day. But, shit happens. My basement flooded and then flooded again and I hurt my sensitive and poor back lifting that goddamn shop vac to the sink just to drain it. The designers of this house may have thought they were geniuses, but I've got news for them...
She told me that she spends about eight hours a day on writing stuff. In a good day, that is. Eight hours, I thought. Shit. I will never be able to devote that much time. I have school, and pets, and television, after all (that was when I had cable). But she explained that it's not an eight-hour session, but an accumulation of pockets of time spent reading and thinking and doodling and writing. That, I told her, I can do.
Since then, I've broken my writing time into segments and tried to do more than sort-of think about my character development while stalking old enemies on myspace. I've been reading a lot of Welty, Flannery O'Connor, and Chekhov. Recently I read the short story "The Culprit" by Chekhov. He writes about an "ignorant" character, ie the culprit, who is actually much smarter, as well as innocent, than he seems. Typical, I know. But there was a particular line by the peasant character Denis Grigoryev that I enjoyed: "That's what you're educated for, our protectors, to understand. The Lord knew to whom to give understanding...Here you've figured out how and what, but the watchman, a peasant like us, with no brains at all, he gets you by the collar and pulls you in. You should figure it out first and then pull people in. But it's known, a peasant has the brains of a peasant..." (105-106). This is of course "true" in many different regards with the given hierarchy of education, though it is often not true in real life.
My character Eddie thinks he's a genius though he's not. But he's a lot smarter than anyone, including himself, gives him credit for.
So this is my long tangent about the writing process. It is now three in the afternoon and I've been trying to write all day. But, shit happens. My basement flooded and then flooded again and I hurt my sensitive and poor back lifting that goddamn shop vac to the sink just to drain it. The designers of this house may have thought they were geniuses, but I've got news for them...
Monday, June 15, 2009
a tiny glimpse at Eddie.
Eddie never liked to leave home, but this time he had to. He needed the money, and when his cousin Daryl told him about the roofing job in Chattanooga, he quickly accepted. He found that he enjoyed working outdoors. It was early June and the weather was cooler than in the South Carolina piedmont. He could see the Smoky Mountains and the winding tangles of railroads as he shingled rooftops. The air was fresher too, even with the smell of tar. The brightness of the sun and the crispness of working in the morning made Eddie feel like he was alive again.
While in Tennessee, he didn’t need to worry about his wife or his two girls or his mother. Margaret would have everything under control—she was always good at that. And he was glad to get away—needed to get away. Here, now, Eddie could just be Eddie—and that’s all he ever wanted.
He found Wanda at the Lucky Lady on a Friday night after a long week. She had blonde hair, probably dyed, and big pink lips. Her nose was somewhat large for her face and her teeth were too big, but her body made up for what her face lacked. She had on white jean shorts—they drew attention to her firm looking legs. Smooth and tan, like a store mannequin. Her ass was smaller than Margaret’s, and Wanda looked like she was in shape. Her breasts were big, too.
She sidled up to him at the bar, interrupting his conversation with Daryl.
“You’re cute,” she slurred. She bought him a beer. “Wanna dance?”
“No,” Eddie said, though he accepted the beer.
“Ok. Game of pool? I’m a shark, you know.”
Eddie figured she was a bar slut, but he didn’t mind.
She went home with him that night, and all the following weekends afterward. She was a nice addition to the hotel room, even though she didn’t pay him for any of the days she stayed. Wanda, after a few weeks, was just another Margaret, so Eddie dumped her. He didn’t want her showing up at his jobsite for lunch or calling Daryl to invite him to go out with her “hot friend” Cherlene and she and Eddie. He didn’t need a girlfriend too, and he told her so.
“You’re going to regret this,” she hissed before getting out of his truck. She had taken him out to dinner and drinks at Bennigan’s because she had just been paid. She told him after their first round of drinks to get whatever he wanted, so he did. He ate a deluxe hamburger with cheese and bacon fries that night and he even ordered dessert—a fudge brownie sundae—before he dumped her on the way back to the hotel.
“I’m not going to regret nothing,” he said. “Now get your white trash ass out of my truck.”
While in Tennessee, he didn’t need to worry about his wife or his two girls or his mother. Margaret would have everything under control—she was always good at that. And he was glad to get away—needed to get away. Here, now, Eddie could just be Eddie—and that’s all he ever wanted.
He found Wanda at the Lucky Lady on a Friday night after a long week. She had blonde hair, probably dyed, and big pink lips. Her nose was somewhat large for her face and her teeth were too big, but her body made up for what her face lacked. She had on white jean shorts—they drew attention to her firm looking legs. Smooth and tan, like a store mannequin. Her ass was smaller than Margaret’s, and Wanda looked like she was in shape. Her breasts were big, too.
She sidled up to him at the bar, interrupting his conversation with Daryl.
“You’re cute,” she slurred. She bought him a beer. “Wanna dance?”
“No,” Eddie said, though he accepted the beer.
“Ok. Game of pool? I’m a shark, you know.”
Eddie figured she was a bar slut, but he didn’t mind.
She went home with him that night, and all the following weekends afterward. She was a nice addition to the hotel room, even though she didn’t pay him for any of the days she stayed. Wanda, after a few weeks, was just another Margaret, so Eddie dumped her. He didn’t want her showing up at his jobsite for lunch or calling Daryl to invite him to go out with her “hot friend” Cherlene and she and Eddie. He didn’t need a girlfriend too, and he told her so.
“You’re going to regret this,” she hissed before getting out of his truck. She had taken him out to dinner and drinks at Bennigan’s because she had just been paid. She told him after their first round of drinks to get whatever he wanted, so he did. He ate a deluxe hamburger with cheese and bacon fries that night and he even ordered dessert—a fudge brownie sundae—before he dumped her on the way back to the hotel.
“I’m not going to regret nothing,” he said. “Now get your white trash ass out of my truck.”
The Thompsons: early years
Eddie's mother, Dee. This is actually a picture of my grandmother. I haven't spoken with her since I was six years old.
Eddie's dad, Red, and Dee. These are actually my paternal grandparents, both of which never had much involvement in my life.
an [edited] email.
Hi Sean,
So I'm looking at stats for the Braves from the 70s-84, I think. I'm using the good players, and other info, in my thesis. Everything has to sound real, and believable, and the facts, if there are any, have to be true. Baseball plays a big role for one of my characters. But all these stats and what not confuse the hell out of me.
I know that I want to use Hank Aaron and some others. The year in question is 1972. Here is the site
xo
Ambre
So I'm looking at stats for the Braves from the 70s-84, I think. I'm using the good players, and other info, in my thesis. Everything has to sound real, and believable, and the facts, if there are any, have to be true. Baseball plays a big role for one of my characters. But all these stats and what not confuse the hell out of me.
I know that I want to use Hank Aaron and some others. The year in question is 1972. Here is the site
xo
Ambre
| show details 12/21/08 |
|
what the abbreviations mean:
Ag - Age
G - Games played
AB - At Bats - make sure they have at least a few hundred to make sure they didnt bat like once
R - Runs scored - this year 50 plus would be good
H - Hits - 150 plus is awesome
2B - Doubles - looks like doubles and triples were way less common than now.15 and over
3B - Triples - wow, only two for dusty baker??
HR - Home Runs - in this era, 20 will do. hank aaron was probably the most consistent homerun hitter. i dont know if he ever led the league in HR but he played a long time and always hit a ton
RBI - Runs Batted In - 75 and over is good.
BB - Walks (base on balls) - looks like Hank a good eye too.
SO - Strikeouts - wow, earl weaver loves to swing and miss.
BA - Batting Average - probably the most important stat out there. .250 is respectable, .300 is great, .400 is insanity! .300 means you get a hit 3 out of every 10 ABs
OBP - On Base Percentage - hits + walks divided by total at bats
SLG - Slugging Percentage - higher SLG, the more likely the hitter is to hit 2B, 3B, and HR
SB - Stolen Base
CS - Times Caught stealing
GDP - Ground into Double Play
HBP - Hit by pitch
SH - Sacrifice Hits - bunts and whatnot
SF - Sacrifice Fly - dude scores by tagging up on your fly ball
IBB - Intentional walks - there most dangerous hitter only got IBB'd 15 times. Manny got more in the playoffs last year
OPS - On Base Percentage + Slugging Percentage
OPS - On Base Percentage + Slugging Percentage
So that was kind of tedious so im not going to do the same for pitchers. just know:
G - Games pitched in
ERA - Earned Run Average - Most important stat for pitchers. How many runs you give up, on average, every time you pitch. 3.50 and under is good. 2.00 is awesome, 1.00 is nasty
W - Wins
L - Losses - As long as you win more than lose, you are considered successful
Then, theres the fielding percentage tables. 1.000 is perfect ( no errors) which is going to be rare for players with more than 20 or so games. looks like the braves werent bad fielders. PO means Putouts (the ball is hit to you and you get the guy out) and E is errors. so, everyone was pretty solid except for the main shortstop Perez.
And then there is the leader board. Surprising that Hank didnt lead in more categories but this is toward the end of his career. Soooo yeah, let me know if you need some specifics answered and i will do my best. i know you know alot of this stuff but what the hell. its awesome you are writing about the bravos. you are a true fan. did you hear about furcal stiffin us last week?? lameness.
Smoltzy.
BASEBALL; Mets Bow as Braves Pitcher Makes His Debut
At the end of each inning, John Smoltz would walk slowly back to the Atlanta dugout and, just before stepping down, steal a look into the box seats. There, without fail, he would spot the small knot of family and friends who had traveled halfway across the country to watch his debut in the major leagues.
''They weren't that hard to spot,'' Smoltz said, smiling. ''They were the only ones standing.''
They might also have been the only ones in the crowd of 43,637 who believed what they were seeing. The 21-year-old Smoltz, called up from the minor leagues on Thursday, allowed just four hits through eight innings yesterday as the Braves dumped the Mets, 6-1, at Shea Stadium.
When it was over, the delegation from Lansing, Mich., had some company. Ozzie Virgil, the veteran catcher for the Braves, paused before entering the team's clubhouse and offered this evaluation. 'Didn't Want to Get Clobbered'
''We just might have found ourselves another pitcher,'' said Virgil.
For pure exhilaration, Smoltz is unlikely to soon discover another afternoon like the one he enjoyed yesterday.
''I just didn't want to get clobbered,'' said Smoltz, who had given up three runs to the Mets in a spring training game. ''In my mind, I tried not to give them too much credit as a team. I just tried to imagine they were some Triple A team. It wasn't that easy.''
He made it look not all that difficult. On an afternoon devoted to celebrating former brilliance - the Mets staged their annual Old-Timers' Day Game earlier in the day -Smoltz stole the stage and the only thunder the dark day produced with his flash of future promise.
Smoltz, after permitting a hit and a run in the first, gave up just one more hit over the next six innings. In the seventh, he gained his first strikeout by getting Darryl Strawberry looking. In the eighth, he yielded two hits but not his poise as he worked out of his only jam of the day by retiring Wally Backman with runners on first and second.
''All day, I tried not to think about everything that was going on,'' said Smoltz, who was dressing down the hall from Tom Seaver, Ferguson Jenkins and Gaylord Perry, among others. ''A couple of times, I went out and took a peek at the old-timers. But that's when I started to shake. I got out of there quick.''
Five days ago, Smoltz was told to clear out of Richmond, Va., the home of the Braves' Class AAA team. In more than 135 innings, he had allowed just 42 earned runs while compiling a record of 10-5. On Tuesday, he had worked five perfect innings against the Maine Guides. He then got that thrilling phone call.
''I slept O.K. that night,'' said Smoltz, who had come to the Braves last August from the Tigers in a trade for Doyle Alexander. ''And I slept O.K. last night. Before I went out today, the guys told me to throw the first pitch for a strike and don't look back.''
The Mets, meanwhile, rediscovered the listless, limp play that had characterized their last month. After taking both games of a doubleheader, they took it on the chin from a raw rookie.
''It's always a good question of whether it's good pitching or lousy hitting,'' Dave Johnson, the Mets' manager, said when asked about his team's effort. ''But we did nothing, really.''
Afterward, Bob Ojeda said nothing, having exited the premises with his last pitch. Ojeda (7-8) did not pitch badly, giving up six hits and three runs in eight innings.
''We didn't play heads-up ball,'' said Johnson, whose team stayed two games ahead of the Pirates, who lost to the Dodgers last night. ''We got doubled off on a line drive, got caught on a bunt in front of the plate.
''With the big crowd and winning a couple yesterday, I thought we'd come out and go right at them.'' Mets Come Apart
Instead, they fell right behind them as the Braves got a run-scoring groundout from Jim Morrison and an infield single from Dale Murphy to drive in another run in the first inning.
They came apart completely later by yielding a run in the seventh and three more in the ninth when Edwin Nunez, in relief of Ojeda, gave up four successive singles. Randy Myers put the finishing blemishes on the afternoon by walking in the final run.
''I'm sure there will be a million excuses why we didn't win,'' said Howard Johnson, who was Smoltz's other strikeout victim. ''But the guy did pitch a good game.'' Smoltz took in the final inning on the bench as Bruce Sutter worked a scoreless ninth.
''We felt if he got out of the eighth, that would be it,'' said Russ Nixon, the Braves' manager. ''He was going to be out of there regardless in the ninth. That was enough. He'd done enough.''
Certainly, he wasn't in a position to complain.
''I didn't mind in the least,'' Smoltz said about being lifted. ''With Bruce out there, I just couldn't wait for it to be over and to go out and get that ball.''
Photo of John Smoltz, making his major league debut (NYT/G. Paul Burnett) (pg. 2)
this is that.
The essential information: I'm starting this blog in order to document the writing of my novel, A Story about Eddie and Margaret. I've been working on said piece for about a year and a half, on and off, and have completed a very holey draft. This summer, starting today June 15th, 2009, I am reworking it. I want to use this blog to help me with my research--from morbid obesity to Braves baseball to alcoholism to land ownership in South Carolina. Plus, who the hell knows. Maybe somebody will find some use out of my rantings and documentations.
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