If all goes well…

…I’ll be adding a new feature to my web site. Stay tuned!

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Success

A couple of thoughts for the day:

Sometimes success is just about forward motion.

Finish lines are good to separate one leg of the journey from the next.

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A Lesson: The Charge of the Light Brigade

Flynn, Errol (Charge of the Light Brigade, The)_03A couple of years ago my writing seemed to be coming to a head and I was sure I’d be exploding onto the market in no time launching my career into the stratosphere. I drafted query letters, refreshed my website, branched out to spread the word; I poured everything I knew into succeeding, but it wasn’t enough. I needed help.

My stranger-friend in Boston, Lynette, provided enough of a light to keep me going. My next door neighbor found a major flaw in my manuscript. My wife has been patient, encouraging me to answer the one question I should not, by now, be having trouble with: what’s it about. Others have simply told me success is entirely a matter of making the right choices and that I will have to get there on my own.

People can be very presumptuous when least expected. I asked for help and they heard “carry me.” That upset me until I reminded myself that being misunderstood for any reason is an obvious problem for a writer. So how could I ask more clearly?

I don’t know why but one small nugget from my history class at Portora Royal in Northern Ireland has stuck with me, a kernel of wisdom following the disastrous Charge of the Light Brigade. “Don’t give orders that can be understood; give orders that can’t be misunderstood.” With that in mind I wondered if I was asking the wrong question, that instead of asking for help to succeed I should ask for help not to screw up?

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The Pond As a Learning Experience

Oh what a job it is to dredge the muck from a pond! I already know about the 10 tons of sand and 5 tons of river rock in there because I put them there, but good golly there’s at least that much fish poop and assorted leaf debris.

I see this as a learning experience. Sixteen years ago when I installed the pond we didn’t have the money to do it “right”. I envisioned going out in the morning or evening and feeding the fish. Beyond that I hadn’t a clue. I read up on ponds but we didn’t have the money to do it right, so I used multiple layers of thick plastic sheeting for the lining, filled it with water, and added gold fish from the local PetSmart. For a while it was very cool to throw a handful of food to all those hungry mouths. Then the water turned cloudy green and I couldn’t see a thing.

I tried building bigger and bigger filters to no avail. I added a stream (though I never was able to seal the join properly, hence the giant mesquite tree growing next to the pond), and that helped some but not as much as I needed. I added all kinds of water plants but most of them fried in the heat of summer or froze as soon as the temperature dipped below hell. Through talking and reading I finally accepted that the cause of the problem was the fish food. So I stopped feeding the fish. Within a week the water had cleared completely.

Now finances are better. I could hire someone to dig a new pond and do it exactly right, and that may be what I ultimately do. After all, the purpose of the pond is to help me relax so I can write, and if I am constantly working on the pond then I am not relaxed nor, more importantly, writing. For now, though, I’m content to sift the muck separating the much needed strings of Anacharis plants that provide oxygen and remove algae-producing nutrients, from the stinky black sludge.

My plan is simple – once I get the muck out I’ll transfer all the plants and fish to a temporary pond. Then I’ll remove and discard the old “lining”. The new pond will be smaller in terms of how much of the yard it will take up, but it will have bottom drains and skimmers feeding a biological filter to help deal with waste and debris. It will also have wood decking at least in areas – I always loved Mr. Miyagi’s wooden pathway in the karate kid and think that would be a nice touch. The waterfall will be moved to the corner and I’ll build a new outbuilding facing the new pond. Whether that will become my office or a place for the kids I haven’t decided yet, but at least I have a plan.

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Be Prepared for Surprises

signed_poster_webI’ve been a Star Trek fan ever since I can remember. My older brother was one of the many thousands who wrote in to save Star Trek for another season. Over the years there’s been a lot of speculation over what could have been had Star Trek not been cancelled, and over the years there have been various attempts to re-create the original series in fan films on the internet. Sometimes these productions have been the result of a lot of heart and soul of pure backyard film enthusiasts; but not always.

Phoenix Comicon 2013 hosted the premiere of Star Trek Continues. These guys bought a building in south Georgia, built a complete sound stage, and recreated all the sets from the original Star Trek series. They then filmed a full-length episode in the flavor of the original and even featured Michael Forest reprising his role as Apollo (Star Trek, “Who Mourns for Adonais”) and Christopher Doohan (son of Jimmy Doohan, Star Trek’s “Scotty”). The whole idea intrigued me, so I went to the premiere. I was not disappointed!

After the screening Vic Mignogna (Capt. Kirk, Star Trek Continues) announced that the cast and crew had free posters that they’d sign at the tables outside.  That was very cool, but what really knocked my socks off? The genuine enthusiasm and respect for the attendees.  Now that was truly awesome!

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On The Run (A Fitting Pink Floyd Reference)

Mom used to love finding a cozy place to sit and drink coffee and watch people and I never understood what the fascination was, until last night. My wife was coming in on British Airways from London, and I got to the airport in plenty of time to meet her, but no one can ever guess how long it might take to clear customs.

So I sat in the International Arrivals area and watched the people go by. The people arriving meeting friends and family, the people departing making sure they had all their documents in hand before entering the security zone. Each time someone passed with their passport in hand I felt a sense of nostalgia, and I felt good but sad also, remembering when waving goodbye and checking my ticket and passport was something I did every three months or so.

In a life filled with ordinary everyday it is refreshing to do something a little different especially if the experience itself is different. I think Mom would be happy not so much because I “get” it but because, even after all these years, I still see diversity that makes life interesting rather than a divider separating “them” from “us”. That was the one true success that came out of all those years of going boarding school, even if I didn’t always show it. 😉

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Gearing Up For Comicon 2013

peacemakers_postcard_webPhoenix Comicon 2013 is almost here. I thought I’d share some artwork I’ve been working on in support of The Peacemakers series I’ll be leaving in the lobby.

If you want something really cool to do between May 23 and May 26 I urge you to get tickets ASAP! Come and join the fun.

http://www.phoenixcomicon.com/

 

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The Small Things

iris_webAfter clearing weeds and pulling cattails from part of the pond area I suddenly spotted this beautiful iris I’d planted years ago. I had seen it bloom only once before but had forgotten about it because of overgrowth.

Amazing how the small things can make the difference to a day!

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Sanctuary in the Desert

arch-bridgeEveryone should have a place to detox from the struggles in their lives. That’s what I had in mind when I hand-dug my pond in August 1997. No big deal, you say? Well, maybe but no matter how often people say “It’s a dry heat” it was hot, damned hot. Digging in the brutal heat was a challenge but I persevered and today I have fish swimming in my back yard.

I need a sanctuary from the stress and disappointment of writing. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I love writing but for now it’s all work, and when I’m trying to think of a better way to tell a part of the story it gets really frustrating. I can watch television or listen to music, I suppose, or I can stare at the computer screen and surf the net hoping the right words will suddenly come to me, but that’s a long and unreliable technique.

I learned a long time ago that a clear, relaxed mind was far better to work with, and modern entertainment bombards the senses rather than sooths them. So I’m going back to my pond and working it into my Garden of Eden, so to speak. Budget constraints at the time meant I had to cut corners and do things on the cheap, and all these years later it shows. Fortunately I am looking at the bigger picture now – the need to do it right so I can enjoy the results.

Last week I completed a major task – replacing the two main bridges over the stream. I could not be happier with the results. Now all I have to do is get the rest of the muck out, including the ten tons of sand I put in when I started!

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Another Sign? Hmm…

rhubarb_web

Rhubarb planted in my back yard. Since it prefers cool weather we’ll just have to see how it does. Fingers crossed.

The other day while browsing the garden section of my local Wal-Mart I was shocked to see rhubarb plants. Now maybe rhubarb is no big deal to you, but I hadn’t seen it since I left Ireland thirty-two years ago. I happen to love rhubarb preserve, with or without strawberry, preferably with ginger, and I’ve tried to find some that at least comes close to what I remember, but even direct from Ireland all I’ve gotten is a soupy mess.

My grandmother made the most delicious preserve. I’d already tried her rhubarb tart, but that was easy as I’d eat anything that looked like pie. The rhubarb and ginger preserves, on the other hand, were kinda brown, and while I liked rhubarb tart and ginger ale I wasn’t too sure about the two together. I decided to take a chance, spread a good amount of butter on a large slab of gran’s fresh-baked soda bread and topped it off with the rhubarb ginger preserve. Instant heaven.

As I was checking out, the fellow behind me says, “Oh my, rhubarb! Where did you find that?” I told him and after some chatting he asked where I was from. “Midwest, perhaps?” I hesitated just like I used to do because I wasn’t sure what to say. Libya? No. Ireland? Nuh uh. Arizona? Hmm, not really. “Anchorage, Alaska,” I told him, just as I used to tell everyone else who asked. Why? Because Anchorage was the last place in America I called home.

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