GVP's Way is the author's blog including book and movie reviews, thoughts on the craft of writing, perspectives on the business of publishing, and musings on life, politics, and family.
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He's a walking contradiction
Partly truth and partly fiction
Taken every wrong direction
On his lonely way back home
And there's a lot of wrong directions
On that lonely way back home.
The Pilgrim
Kris Kristofferson
Entries in Reviews (25)
On Horicon Marsh
I couldn't be more pleased that my story "On Horicon Marsh" found a home and was published this month by moonShine Review. I took my first shot at this story 30 years ago while living in Brookfield, Wisconsin. Renowned author Ellen Hunnicut, and a wonderful teacher and mentor, loved the story and it won, in an earlier version, a scholarship award to the IU Summer Writer's Conference. But I couldn't get it published anywhere. I tried a lot of places. Then I let it sit for many years. Last year, I revived it. I cut from it mercilessy, 4500 words to under 3000 words. I informed the story with all I've learned about writing and storytelling over the years.
Gary
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Tim Russert Can't be Dead
Tim Russert can't be dead. He was only 58, just like I'm about to be.
Tim Russert can't be dead. He was only a little overweight, always had a lot of energy, never stopped working, just like me.
Tim Russert can't be dead. He's got a wife and son, just like me.
Tim Russert can't be dead. He was a lawyer who changed careers, just like me.
Tim Russert can't be dead. He grew up in a gritty Midwest town and never left his roots behind, just like me.
Tim Russert can't be dead. He lived through the 60s, loved baseball, and enjoyed politics, just like me.
Tim Russert can't be dead. He's got an old man he likes to tell stories about, just like me.
Tim Russert can't be dead.
He was the best at what he did.
Based on everything I heard and read about him, he was a decent guy who always remained grounded.
From the first time I saw him on TV years ago, I liked him, felt a connection to him.
And now I'm feeling about as mortal as I've felt in a long time.
Tim Russert, dead at age 58.
Damn.
CBOCS West, Inc. v Humphries
Years ago, in law school, I wrote a law review article on "Section 1981" and its interaction with Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964. In the article I contended that Section 1981 was supplementary to Title VII and that Title VII did not supplant rights granted by Section 1981. It took a long time, but yesterday, the Supreme Court upheld my view--although they had no idea they were doing so.
Title VII created the EEOC and specifically prohibits discrimination in employment practices. Enacted in the wake of the Civil War, Section 1981 provides that "all persons within the jurisdiction of the United States shall have the same right in every State and Territory to make and enforce contracts. . . as is enjoyed by white citizens.” Rev. Stat. §1977, 42 U. S. C. §1981(a).
Acceptance
Writers, for the most part, don't get too many opportunities to celebrate. Even when you do, the cause for celebration is often so long delayed that celebration seems anti-climactic.
In the last two weeks I've had three reasons for celebration. The third arrived just this morning.
The week before last, I received notification that a story I recently wrote for a theme contest will be featured on the publisher's website for two months later this year. That story, which is a little edgier than my mainstream fiction, will appear under a psuedonym.
Home Again in Austin--Keep it Wierd
We're in Austin, Texas this week, visiting family and enjoying the food and music scene. As settled as we've become in North Carolina, having found our niche in a place that's not all that hospitable to us, Austin feels a lot like what home should feel like.
My brother-in-law and sister-in-law live in Tarrytown within walking distance of Lake Austin and Mozart's Coffee shop. I wrote a pretty fair short story from there last year, plus finished a book on health insurance for a client, plus started what looks like it will be a novella length piece. This year I've been walking over early and working on the synopsis to my third novel. The folks there remembered me from last year. They bring me my latte in a "for here" cup after I plug in my laptop.
Screwed by Southeast Toyota Finance
We own a Lexus 300RX outright that has only about 70K miles on it and since we work from home we don't put that many miles on a car. We like the idea of keeping the reliable Lexus long term while leasing a new car that's fun to drive every three years. A little over three years ago, we leased a Toyota Solara convertible from a dealer in south Charlotte. The financing on the lease was handled by a finance company that goes by the name Southeast Toyota Finance.
Everything was fine until we turned the car in at the end of the lease. Because it was a three-year lease, it included 36K miles. But because we don't commute, we'd managed to put on only 26K between the house and Starbucks, the house and Caribou, and the house and Reilly's school. Other than that, I took the car to Bloomington a couple of times and Mary drove to Richmond once or twice.
New York, New York!
I first visited NYC in the summer of 1979. I was living in Cedarburg,WI, recently married to my first wife, and commuting into Milwaukee for work. I traveled to New York to deliver training to Northwestern Mutual's two agencies in the city. The Peter Hearst agency was located in the Chrysler building at 42nd and Lexington. The Gilberg agency was further down in the Garment District. At the Hearst agency, they expected you, welcomed you, and took you to lunch after you finished your training session. At the Gilberg agency, they were surprised by your scheduled arrival, uncertain where to put you, and glad when you were gone.
I stayed up around 57th and 7th at the old Sheraton Americana overlooking Central Park. The City wasn't a great a place to be at that time. It was a little tacky, a little sleazy uptown. The concierge warned against walking in neighborhoods you didn't know. Times Square was lined with x-rated movie theatres and adult "museums." Guys sold Rolex watch rip-offs out of their trunks on the side streets. Even uptown got creepy after dark.
Gettysburg
Lee was desperate to win in the North. After two years of losses throughout the South, the North was desperate to win anywhere.
Neither side chose Gettysburg. Lee hoped for a surprise attack on Harrisburg. Once there, he could establish his defensive position and wait for the North to attack. He had little doubt he could beat them, because he'd already done so at Manassas, Fredricksburg, and Chancellorsville. A win in the North would give the South leverage for a negotiated end to the war in their favor.
But Lee never made it to Harrisburg. He ran into the newly appointed General Meade and his Army of the Potomac just east of the Blue Ridge mountains.
The battle ran for three days--Lee's entire army, led by Hill, Longstreet, and Ewell, with calvary support from Stuart faced off against Meade, Buford, and Reynolds. The first shots were fired early on the morning of July 1, 1863 on McPherson's Ridge.
On our recent visit to Gettysburg, we stayed at the Doubleday Inn on McPherson's Ridge, looking out across the field where Confederate soldiers first attacked.
By the end of the first day, Reynolds was dead and the North had been routed through the city of Gettysburg, falling back onto the high ground of Cemetary Hill. Federal losses were estimated at 9,000 men.
Carlos'
A few years ago, Mary and I were in Chicago visiting her family.
We'd had a challenging few months. In addition to raising our then two-year old son, we were also engaged in helping my sometimes-errant daughter Ashley get through high school. But this was only backdrop for a huge project we'd been hired to do for Wachovia--design and develop retirement products and concepts training on paper and the web for 22,000 bankers. we were up against tight deadlines and a paranoid compliance department.
By the time summer rolled around and things settled down, we needed a respite.
Dinner at Carlos' and an evening away from work and kids at the Deerpath Inn in Lake Forest was just the ticket.
Charlie Trotter's
A few years ago, we were in Chicago for the holidays, visiting with Mary's folks. I landed a large project with a large bank. When added to the work Mary and I had already sold for the upcoming year, things looked pretty promising. We decided to treat ourselves to dinner at Charlie Trotter's and take Mary's folks along as well. Because the weather was nasty and because we wished to imbibe generously throughout the evening, we hired a limo to take us into the city from the northern suburb of Highland Park, then take us back again that evening. We indulged ourselves with a bottle of Champagne on the way down.