Show and Sell!

by the Night Writer

Tiger Lilly and I have been working through final revisions and polishing on her first novel. At first the idea was to have it ready by May 14 so it can be entered in a contest sponosored by The Writer’s Digest. Then it turned out that in her chosen category – Young Adult Fiction – you are limited to just 2000 words. You might be able to get a manga within that limit, but it doesn’t get you through Chapter One of her urban fantasy. So, bummed. Then, last night, I was perusing the Digest’s website and found out they are also sponsoring a self-published novel contest, and that e-books can be considered if they are offered for sale on a website. The deadline for entry is May 17.

So, boom, back into full production mode on the finishing touches — but now we need a book design and the whole thing converted into pdf form as well. Then I just need to find a website, or a blog — one with a writerly-sounding name — where she can offer the book for sale in order to comply with the rules. Hmmm. I’ll ponder this as we buff and shine. Watch this space, as they say.

The original Digest contest also has opportunities for shorter-form writing, including a Personal Essay category and one for Religious/Inspirational. I’ve been thinking of modifying some of my favorite pieces from the history of this blog and entering. First prize in each category is, I think, $1000, and there are other cash prizes as well. It’s kind of fun to think I may have money just laying around so to speak. Recently our friend, The Zumbro Falls Impressionist, had a week-end long art show at her home and sold a number of her paintings. Because she works “en plein aire” and has to capture the natural light she has had to develop the skill to paint quickly and effectively. A typical painting, she says, takes about three hours. When I heard that I thought that a typical post for me takes about three hours to write. While I can’t “sell” a completed work that here’s for everyone to see in its entirety, I can enter these in some contests and perhaps get a little windfall.

The trick is deciding what pieces to enter. Over the last five years there have been several things I’ve written that have surprised and delighted me. Given the contest categories, I’ve narrowed it down to a few I’m considering. Trouble is, it’s hard to be dispassionate when analyzing the strengths and weaknesses of an essay in the way the judges might. Below I’ve linked the original posts that I’m considering for the contest (witih tweaks). If you’re reading this far, and can spare a little more time, I’d be interested in your vote on which of these to enter. Thanks!

Personal Essay:
Are You Marriageable?
Remembrance Day

Spiritual/Religious
Dad to the Bone
Duty is Ours. Results are God’s
What a Dad’s to Do

Another “hands-on” experience

by the Night Writer

Earlier in the week I posted a link to a talk I presented last month to the Inside Outfitters group about the need and benefits of living with an open hand (my part starts about five minutes into the podcast). In the talk I shared several of my experiences over the years where I was prompted to give something (usually money) to someone and the things that had happened for myself or my family as a result. The main point was to show how important it is to have an open hand (as opposed to a grasping or fisted hand) in order to both receive from God and to hand on the blessing to others. It was a fun message to prepare since it caused me to go back over so many wonderful memories. The trap, of course, is to spend too much time looking back and not enough looking ahead.

At about the same time I did that little presentation I also also received an unexpected gift from my new company, honoring my 15 years of experience. Actually, the experience was with my previous company, which had just been acquired by the new company. The new company, though, carried everyone’s seniority forward into its own benefit structure and I suddenly found myself with an American Express Gift Certificate for $75. “Hoo-lah!” I thought, “What toy can I spend this on?”

The thing was, I have just about all the toys I could possibly want — at least among those in the $75 price range — and I couldn’t think of anything even after giving it some thought over a weekend. Then, duh, I remembered what I’d preached and realized that I was overlooking a basic calculation. The Word says God “supplies seed to the sower, and bread for food,” (2 Corinthians 9:10); therefore I should look at everything that comes to me as either being bread (something I need to live) or seed (something to sow “to increase the fruits of my righteousness”) and this unexpected windfall clearly looked like seed to me. Then, instead of shopping, the fun part became looking around trying to find out who I was supposed to give the card to. Over the next week or so I saw a couple of possible opportunities, even good ones, but I didn’t have an inner release that any of these were what the card was for (we gave other things instead).

Then, quite unexpectedly, I re-connected with an old friend I hadn’t seen or heard from for nearly 25 years (and the way I got reconnected is pretty incredible and too complicated to go into here). We exchanged some emails and agreed to get together for lunch this week. In the course of our emails I learned that this woman was going through a tough time and trying to get a small business started. As I thought about it over the weekend, prior to meeting for lunch, I decided that the gift card was meant for her even though it wasn’t much compared to the size of the challenge she was facing. When we met I found the opportunity to give her the card and share a little about how it had come to me in the first place and how I’d been looking for the right person to give it to and that I was pretty sure it was for her. As I was saying these things, and handing her the card, she was smiling pleasantly and perhaps a little uncomfortably as most people are when receiving something. Since the value of the card wasn’t marked on it, however, I then told her that it was worth $75, thinking she might buy groceries or something with it. Her eyes blinked several times and she suddenly looked half-stunned.

It turns out she had been pricing some supplies she needed in order to get her business started, and the amount she figured she was going to need was…$75.

I have no way of knowing how she’s going to do in her new endeavor, or if it will be 25 days or 25 years before I ever see her again, but it was a tremendous rush to be used to encourage someone in such an unexpected way. Its always been fun to give, but when something comes together the way this did it’s even more satisfying — and feels even better than getting a new iPod. I also hope that, as welcome as the money might be to her, the sense of knowing that God is aware of you and is thinking of ways to let you know that is priceless.

The blue of blues is mostly gray

by the Night Writer

Last night we mounted an expedition into Nordeast, with Son@Night, the Mall Diva (and the half-baked cupcake, of course) and her friend, Princess Flicker Feather. The girls were wanting to sing some blues at the open jam night at Shaw’s and Son@ and I were along for the ride. Driving up University Ave NE I mused outloud that the last time I’d been in a bar in Nordeast after dark someone had set my car on fire.

Reaallly?” came the response from the back seat.

Yes, indeedy, and I recounted the story. I was playing darts in a league and The Sun Saloon was one of our stops. I’d won three matches when someone shouted “There’s a car on fire outside!” I thought, “Cool – let’s go look!” Then they described my car and I thought “I can’t look.” Sure enough, someone had poured an accelerant on the hatchback and touched it off. I never did find out who did it, or why. As I told the tale I did the math and realized — with almost as much surprise and consternation as that long-ago night — that it had been 30 years since that incident. While I can refer to my college, or even high school, days without a jolt I am shocked when I hear myself saying, “Thirty years ago…”

We were still talking about the incident as we pulled up in front of Shaw’s and — dunh, dunh, DUNH! — it was the same building as that long-ago pyro. Whoa, deja vu all over again! We even parked at the curb not far from where I had left my erstwhile steed. Back when the place at been the Sun Saloon it was kind of a biker place; it’s much cleaner and more attractive now though it still has a comfortable “dive” feel and few heavy-set guys in leather vests and caps and gray ponytails. I refrained from asking any of them what they might have been doing on an October night in 1980.

The place has been Shaw’s for 10 years now and has a rep for live music, especially the blues. It appears that the open jam is a Monday night fixture with a house band and a lot of regulars getting on stage. A DJ from KFAI acts as emcee and impressario, signing up people who want to get on stage and then mixing and matching performers according to her own sense of how she wants the evening to go. The performers all appeared to be on a first-name or nickname basis and most of the men appeared to be about my age or older. It was interesting to watch and listen to the by-play between everyone, on and off stage. For some time now I’ve been more aware of not just the notion, but the reality, of community and I like to hang back and watch groups that are new to me but familiar with each other interact, whether it’s a group of old men on a centuries-old piazza in Tuscany, a MOB party…or a group of blues musicians and fans. The bunch last night was mostly a blue-jeans and tee-shirt or flannel shirt crowd with a few flashier touches. You had extroverts (mostly harmonica players) and introverts (mostly drummers) and the musicians were all very good and the vocalists were all very enthusiastic.

Most groups have their own initiations, some subtle and some not, but these generally require you to prove yourself in some way. The Mall Diva and Princess FF were the newbies here, unknown and much younger than everyone else. As such, even though they were among the first names on the sign-up sheet, they had to do some time listening attentively and applauding appropriately as others were called to the stage and mixed and remixed. It was good experience, though, as their young lives and musical background haven’t included a lot of blues music (I know, I’m a horrible parent) so they had a great chance to absorb some of the musical jargon, so to speak, of different rhythms and riffs, as well as getting a chance to observe jam etiquette for leaving room for everyone to take the lead.

Well into the evening an entire band showed up. These were much younger guys, with their jeans very snug and their “I don’t care” hair just a little too carefully done and a bit more attitude than the rest of the people in the bar. The lead singer and lead guitarist looked like younger versions of a slumming Keith Richards and Ron Wood and the emcee worked them onto the stage bit by bit but fairly quickly. The singer then became more like Mick Jagger with his vocal style and his prancing and posing but everyone on stage and in the audience was enjoying themselves as there was quite a bit of skill on display. After a couple of songs the emcee decided it was time for the Princess to make her debut, singing with the young guys. PFF wanted to do her version of Stevie Ray Vaughn’s “Leave My Girl (Man) Alone.” She and the band conferred briefly on the tune and then the guitars started to wail into the introduction. I believe I detected a bit of boredom on their faces and the bare minimum of graciousness as this young woman, looking like a lily in a bed of ragweed, leaned into the microphone. Perhaps they expected she would be nervous, that her voice would be tight and that she’d rush through the lyrics.

And then she opened her mouth. “You better leave, you better leave, my man alooone…” and their eyes and faces opened as if they’d been tased. Within six bars, “Mick” was bowing and doing little salaams next to PFF as she belted out the tune with power and timbre that hadn’t been heard yet that evening. Like a seasoned pro, PFF left them wanting more, floating off the stage to enthusiastic applause after just one song, followed by the guitar player who asked her for her card so they could get in touch with her. A little later in the evening the Mall Diva received her summons and did a soulful version of Bill Withers’ “Ain’t No Sunshine” followed by “He Called Me Baby” (most recently covered by Candi Staton) … appropriately enough since, as the emcee pointed out, she was singing for two! MD was also well received by the band and the audience but since it had gone past midnight it was time to head for our pumpkin.

Fortunately, this time it wasn’t on fire and the only thing smokin’ was the Diva and PFF!

Another slice of Night Life

by the Night Writer

The whole family is in the kitchen…

Tiger Lilly: Hey, I’m taller than you.
Mall Diva: Yeah, well I’m barefoot. And I’m pregnant.
Night Writer: And you’re in the kitchen!
Reverend Mother: I don’t know that I like the sound of that.
TL: ?????
NW: Some used to say the best way to deal with women was to keep them barefoot and pregnant. And in the kitchen.
TL: !!!!!
….
MD: The knives are in the kitchen….

The Sunday shuffle

by the Night Writer

I can’t say how it is that my mental juke box goes about selecting a song to be in my head when I wake up in the morning, but invariably I have one. Sometimes it’s a song I heard the day before, so that’s easy to explain, but most of the time it seems pretty random. This morning, for example, I had a darkly humorous Warren Zevon song (yes, that’s redundant) running through my mind: “Mr. Bad Example”. In it the singer unrepentedly boasts of his many nefarious deeds. It’s a catchy enough tune and I couldn’t shake it as I went about my morning routine. It’s not, however, the kind of song I want running through my mind when I’m getting ready for church.

Since the words were approaching ear-worm status I docked my iTouch into it’s speaker pedestal in the bedroom and hit song shuffle. My Touch has nearly as many songs in it as I have in my head, as well as many snippets of movie dialogue that I once down-loaded for a blog post and were captured along with my iTunes library when I first synced the unit. As I pushed play I kind of wondered what random tune I’d be greeted with and if it would be more “redeeming” than “Mr. Bad Example.”

I had to smile as the opening bars of “Sleek White Schooner” by the Waterboys blasted through the speakers. It’s one of Mike Scott’s “mystical” (as the music critics refer to spiritual themes) songs:

I dreamed I saw you sailing in
upon a sleek white schooner
You were skimming over the shallow seas,
coming into harbour,
healing on your brow…

The cargo you were carrying
was richer than riches,
golder than gold and yet more real than real
and the light that came a-flashing
from the new born babe in your arms
was a pealing of thunder, a cannonball flying
a sun exploding, Dawn in the heart of me…

It really became amusing — or interesting — then, when the next thing in the shuffle was this little snip from the Clint Eastwood movie, “Unforgiven”:

Kid: “Yeah, well, I guess they had it coming.”
Munny (Eastwood): “We all got it coming, kid.”

Which was immediately followed by an instrumental from Flamenco guitarist Armik, “Pure Paradiso”.

Ah, yes. There are things in my past that I would not want to serve as an example to others and certainly weren’t that beneficial to me. But then the revelation and persona of grace came like a sleek white schooner, letting me know that what I had received was different from what I should have had coming to me. Yet sometimes, in the midst of life, I need that reminder and that reassurance.

And the next song was “The Middle” by Jimmy Eat World, which includes:

Hey, don’t write yourself off yet.
It’s only in your head you feel left out or
looked down on.
Just do your best, do everything you can.
And don’t you worry what the bitter hearts are gonna say.

[Chorus x2]
It just takes some time, little girl you’re in the middle of the ride.
Everything (everything) will be just fine, everything (everything) will be alright (alright).

And with that I checked myself in the mirror, slid the Touch out of the dock, and I was off to church.

FWIW.
My favorite Waterboys song, and one that I see as being a spiritual allegory in my life, is “This is the Sea”. Here’s a cool video that uses this song as a soundtrack:

A city in winter

by the Night Writer

The signs are that this bitter winter is drawing to a close. Not that the hard days didn’t have some beauty to them. I took these photos over the last couple of weeks with my cell phone camera as I was leaving work. I can’t seem to hold that camera steady, but I took the photos because I liked the quality of light.

A City in Winter, btw, is a great little book by Mark Helprin (not to be confused with his longer and more definitive epic book, Winter’s Tale) and part of an essential fantasy trilogy for young adults, especially those just developing their political sensibilities. The three books (Swan Lake and The Veil of Snows are the other two) are illustrated by Chris van Allsburg. Magical.

Nicollet Mall 2 small

Nicollet Mall 1 small

Nicollet Mall station small

Of books and covers

by the Night Writer

I went on to Amazon a little while ago to check something or other and under the “Related to Items You’ve Viewed” heading was a book I’ve never read: After You Believe: Why Christian Character Matters. Ok, the title sounds right up my alley (and perhaps very close in topic to the book I’m working on), but what really caught my eye was the photo on the cover:

Grand Central After You Believe

Very evocative…and very familiar. Virtually the same photo of Grand Central Station was used on the cover of one of the editions of my all-time favorite book, Winter’s Tale by Mark Helprin. The photos are almost, but not quite, identical.

Grand Central Winter Tale

What’s really amazingly coincidental is that I happen to be re-reading Winter’s Tale right now as part of an on-line book club (only two “meetings” so far, here and here, and I’m the only commenter besides the host so far but I’m hoping that will change). I’ve probably read this book all the way through four times and regularly pick it up and read random pages just for the heck of it. Even so, I’m noticing new nuances and descriptions in Helprin’s enrapturing prose this time through that I hadn’t noticed before. It’s very exciting.

In considering the two titles here I see another conceptual connection: descriptions of a mystical reality in the midst of the real world illusions that surround us. I have been moved, challenged, convicted, inspired and ultimately lifted by Winter’s Tale. I’m thinking the same might happen if I pick up After You Believe as well.

Here come the Men in Orange…

by the Night Writer

The official plein air artist of The Night Writer blog, Sharell at Zumbro Falls Impressionist, came across a curious operation while seeking inspiration for a painting (the painting and full story here):

One November Saturday I came down the Bruce Vento Nature Sanctuary path to find 4 mini-vans parked in a circle and about 20 ardent people dressed in fluorescent orange vests, safety glasses, hard hats and rubber gloves. They were moving through this grassy area in the painting and stroking the grasses with their gloved hands. My curiosity was piqued and I found the only friendly person in the group to ask what they were doing. “Collecting seed,” was her curt answer. Then I asked about the gear and she retorted, “For safety purposes [idiot].” With that I backed away and left for a quiet corner of the sanctuary.

Okay, there isn’t a clear indication that this was our tax dollars at work as Sharell didn’t say whether there were state emblems on the sides of the mini-vans, but the protective gear and prickly attitude have the tell-tale ear-marks of a Minnesota Department of Something-or-other. Orange vests? In case of heavy traffic. Safety glasses? Sure, laugh if you want; it’s all funny until someone gets a seed in the eye, buddy. Hard hats? Nature sanctuaries are notorious for having all kinds of birds flying overhead.

And let’s not forget, they were harvesting wild seed. Seed Collection Officer down! Seed Collection Officer down!

Vampire Weekend doesn’t suck

by the Night Writer

And now, as the man said, time for something completely different.

There were those weekends in my college days when my work and social schedule resulted in me essentially being up all night and trying to sleep all day. Those days are what I thought of when I first heard anyone talk about the band Vampire Weekend a couple of years ago; I figured they were a college band with a schedule like mine. Otherwise I didn’t pay much attention to them or hear any of their music since I don’t listen to pop radio much anymore. I was somewhat aware of them as the trendy flavor of the month with some people but my curiousity wasn’t really piqued.

A few weeks ago, however, I read a review of their new album, Contra, and the reviewer described their interesting rhythms and sound as somewhat reminiscent of Paul Simon’s “Rhythm of the Saints” or work by Peter Gabriel and Afro-Celt Sound System. Since those are all favorites of mine I decided to sample the album via iTunes and was a bit surprised to find out I liked what I heard. Yes, there are Gabriel/Afro-Celt sounds on the album but the music is brighter and more upbeat and with a Martha’s Vineyard kind of vibe. It’s preppy and poppy almost to the point of being dismissed, but then some new rhythm line comes blowing in to bounce the mullygrubs out of you.

Most of the songs are pretty short, about three minutes as in the old days of pop radio, and the lyrics are pretty spare. I think the words from a typical song would fit into a tweet with characters left over, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be beguiling or just off-the-wall enough to make you do an aural double-take. The first song I listened to, in fact, started out with the two lines “In December, drinking horchata, I look psychotic in my balaclava.” I mean, don’t you just have to know what comes after that? The other songs I sampled were also appealing so I took the somewhat impulsive step of blowing the $25 iTunes gift certificate I got for Christmas on Vampire Weekend’s self-titled first album and Contra. I have to say, I wasn’t disappointed. In fact, whatever disappointment you might be feeling in your life right now, VM may likely cure it with their rhythm and verve. (Wait a minute, make that “Rhythm & Verve” and I’ve coined a new music term – move over Alan Freed!)

So, anyway, I’m not going to try and analyze their music or message, or go song-by-song through their collection opining on contrapuntal constructions and sugar-coated schadenfreude or the socio-artistic relevance of their oeuvre. This is purely happy stuff, and you can take a free listen for yourself here. Just take your shoes off before you do, or at least loosen them. I guarantee your toes are going to want to tap.

The band also bears the Tiger Lilly stamp of approval. Perhaps she’ll add her own thoughts here as well.