FRIDAY STIR FRY - Another Story From The Hood

 

I've missed posting the last couple of weeks. Why? Well, since I retired, I lose track of my days. They all just kind of melt into each other. Usually by Sunday I realize I missed Friday somehow. Today I remembered what day it is. Congrats brain. Anyway, here's another story from the hood where I used to live. 

One night after dinner and a couple beers at my favorite watering hole, I pulled into my driveway. My headlights illuminated what appeared to be somebody sleeping on my front porch. I always entered my house by the back door, so I got in safely. I cracked open my front door and sure enough some guy was laying on my porch. He had his head propped up against my storm door like it was a headboard. I closed the door and called 911. 

"What's your emergency?"

"There is a man sleeping on my front porch."

"Is he breathing?"

"I don't know." 

"Is he bleeding?" 

"I don't know and I'm not going to check."

I lived just a block from an ambulance station so that's who they sent. I cracked my door again so I could listen. They shone a spotlight on him and shook his shoulder. 

"Hey man. Wake up."

"Leave me alone. I'm tired."

"I understand you're tired, but you are trespassing on somebody's property. You can't stay here."

He slowly sat up and a beer can rolled off him onto the porch.

"How many beers have you had?"

"Just a couple."

"Uh huh," the other attendant muttered.

He shielded his eyes from the spotlight still shining on him.

Now, it just so happened the television show COPS was filming in my town.

"Am I gonna be on COPS?" He sounded rather excited. 

The ambulance attendants could barely stifle their laughter. I covered my mouth because I had to giggle.

"No man, you're not going to be on COPS. You need to get up and move on down the road."

"Okay, okay. Where's the nearest Brown Derby, man?" (that is one of our area liquor stores and one was located a block away - which was one of the reasons my street was so popular with boogins) The ambulance attendants gleefully told him where it was.

He stumbled down the street, probably to find another porch to sleep on. I doubt if he had money for more beer. 

I sure miss the hood.

  

FRIDAY STIR FRY: Inspiration

 

Last week I mentioned in my post that I use to live in a crappy neighborhood. 

I miss that place.

As a writer, inspiration  comes in many forms. That neighborhood was full of stories. I had low windows so I could see out them while sitting in my recliner. And man the things I saw. The windows in my new place are higher so sadly, I don't see as much stuff. 

I've decided to share some of the shenanigans I saw at my old place on this blog. 

This first one involves the people directly across the street from me. (many of my stories will involve them)

This family consisted of an older couple and their early 20ish son who had an anger problem. One day I heard the son yelling at his mother to give him the keys to the car they all shared. She apparently was refusing. He came outside and slammed the storm door over and over until it came off its hinges, all the while yelling at her to give him the keys. She still refused. He then proceeded to go around the house beating on the windows. 

He went to the back porch and hit that storm door window until it shattered. He was barefoot. Not good. A neighbor, apparently fed up with the yelling, called the police. I would never do that. I was having too much fun. The police called an ambulance to treat his many cuts. He refused their help, all the while still yelling at his mother to give him the keys.  

And guess what? When it was all over, she gave him the keys. Way to go mom. 

FRIDAY STIR FRY: TOO HOT/TOO COLD

I don't like air conditioning. 

I grew up without it and I'm a summer person. I like it hot. For the past 17 years I rented an older house in a crappy neighborhood and it didn't have central air or heat or even a window unit. And I was fine. I enjoyed opening my windows in the spring, letting in the fresh air. I had a couple of ceiling fans and window fans. I worked in air conditioning during the hot part of the day. If the heat was unbearable during the weekends, I would go hang out at Panera Bread or the Library. And it really never stayed unbearably hot for too many days in a row. 

I really never worried about having my windows open until the last few years. The neighborhood was going downhill with lots of homeless people wandering around and several shootings. And I'm pretty sure my son wasn't happy with the situation. 

Last year, my landlord (an elderly lady), told me she wasn't going to be able to rent anymore. So, I started looking for a new place. 

My new apartment is great and it has air. Because I am getting on in years, I appreciate it more than I use to. This old body doesn't handle heat as well as it once did. But, be warned. You will probably be sweating if you come visit. I keep it on 80 degrees. 

I really, really can't stand being cold.  

FRIDAY STIR FRY: Book Signings

 I don't like doing book signings. There I said it. (Hiding under my desk until the storm passes)

"What?? But, you are passing up the opportunity to meet your fans and sell some books." 

Uh, I don't have any fans except for a few friends and family. I also hate small talk. And I don't like sitting at a table smiling at strangers while they pick up the free candy and bookmarks I have scattered around. And then they move on with barely a glance at my books. I feel like I must give off a smell of desperation. "Please kind person, buy my book I slaved over for years. I know you'll love it as much as I do." 

And my bank account will enjoy the meager amount I will profit from a sale. That last sentence is meant as a joke. There is no money in writing anymore, unless you are Stephen King or Patterson or some celebrity with a juicy memoir people want to read. 

And then when it's all over, I end up packing up the same number of books I brought. But not as much candy or bookmarks. 

Maybe I would feel different if I showed up and there was a line out the door waiting on little old me. 

But, I doubt it. 

I'll keep writing and self publishing, but don't expect to see me sitting behind a table.

 

So, as I posted earlier I am trying to finish a novel I have been working on for years and years and years.

I was doing well until I hit the spot I always hit. The place where I tried to finish it over and over and over. 

This is the result of attempting to finish it during National Novel Writing Month when you try to write 1668 words a day. For those of you who don't write - that's a lot of words coming out of a writer's imagination. And most of it is crap and doesn't have any kind of flow.

Until this point, my novel was pretty good, IMHO. But now it meanders all over the place. ARRGGHH

This is the problem. Writers hate to delete their words. What if they lose a pearl of wisdom or the one part a publisher will drool over. 

So, now I'm stuck trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle. I hate jigsaw puzzles. 

But in Gloria Gaynor's words. "I will survive". And so will this story. 

FRIDAY STIR FRY: WTF

 

                                          Morguefile.com free photographs for commercial use

I just want to give this bunny a hug, but I can't because of social distancing. 

I'm sure I am not the only one experiencing pandemic fatigue. 

This is not what I expected in my retirement. I retired June 2020 when the pandemic was just a few months old. What I heard then from "experts" was this would last about a year, especially if we got a vaccine. Then everything would be back to 'normal'. I could spend time with my son and grandsons. I could spend time with friends. I could hang out without a mask at my local pub and baseball game. 

A year and almost six months later, we are currently in a major surge. Thanks Delta. 

My part of the country has been in the nightly news almost every night this past week. Yep, I live in the backwards Ozarks. I used to be proud to be born and raised in this part of the country. Not so much now. How did we become so stupid. Missouri is the Show Me State, meaning you have to prove things to us. But even though science has proved it, and hospitalizations have proved it, and deaths have proved it, many of my fellow citizens have kept their blinders on. 

I'm tired. I'm vaccinated but that doesn't matter now. Because so many people aren't, I am now more vulnerable. Not to mention my 5 and 2 year old grandsons.

Other countries would love to have even one free vaccine. We have three. What a selfish nation we have become.    

FRIDAY STIR FRY: SPEAKERS

 

Disclaimer: I don't know who this speaker is. 

I picked this picture as a generic example. 

I hope he was well received. 

Morguefile.com free photographs for commercial use

Have you ever looked forward to a speaker either at a conference or a writer's group and been disappointed? 

I was a victim of this. One of the writer's groups I'm in, scheduled a well known person in the area to speak at our meeting. I was very much looking forward to hearing this person, and learning details of their profession which might give me some insight into my storytelling. What I heard was nothing what I expected. 

This person was so pompous and ate up with themselves, it was nauseating. They used their time to tell us how smart, how successful, and how religious they were (which I don't understand what that had to do with anything). No time on procedure or insight into their profession. Questions were never answered directly, but twisted around to point out again how important they were. (or thought they were)

I left there very disappointed. I try to take away something from every speaker I hear. What I took away from this: I will never waste my time attending one of this person's presentations again.  

Thankfully, most speakers I've heard have been both informative and approachable. And I much appreciate their insight and encouragement.  

 

FRIDAY STIR FRY: Time For Camp

 I'm camping this July.

Before you ask where and when and how, let me explain.

National Novel Writing Month has what they call "Camp" in April and July. Instead of the 50,000 word goal they want you to write in November, you can do whatever word count you want. You don't even have to work on a novel. It can be a memoir, short stories, non-fiction, even a screenplay.

I have been working on a novel for at least ten years. I start, I stop, I start, I stop. I read through what I have, make notes, jot down ideas, and then nothing. It's a story I feel strongly about. It comes from a dark place. Putting my mom in a nursing home. A horrible time of my life. I have fictionalized it as a young woman coming back home after ten years to bury her mother. It explores her present and her past. I think it's a good story. I have roughly 40,000 words. 

A few years back, I submitted the first chapter in a contest and won second place, so I feel like I have something worth finishing.

My goal this month is to add at least 10,000 words. Right now I'm reading through it again just to get a feel for the characters. I really want this first draft done so I can move on. I feel it is holding me back from other work because every time I start something new, I think about this unfinished work.

Wish me luck! I definately need it. 

REBOOT

 

I'm attempting a reboot. It's been at least a year since my last post. Not that anybody noticed. 

It's been a rough year, hasn't it. Luckily, I haven't lost anybody close to Covid but, we've collectively lost over 600,000 American souls. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, grandparents. Gone. 

I'm vaccinated but still nervous about being around people. Took a chance the other day and went for an oil change without my mask. It wasn't crowded there, so that alleviated my fears some. 

Honestly, I've become somewhat of a hermit. I've been retired a little over a year now. I thought I would spend more time around writer friends and at my local hangout but that hasn't been the case. Of course, the lockdown was to blame at first. But now I use my disability as an excuse to stay home. I am dependent on a walker and driving really hurts my knees. Anybody who lives with pain know these are  legitimate reasons to not want to do things.

I'm an only child, so I'm quite use to being alone. Doesn't bother me most of the time. What bothers me is . . . I'm not writing either. You would think with all this time at home I would have cranked out at least one book. Nada, nothing, zilch. My excuse . . . desk chair uncomfortable, no ideas, Dateline is coming on. Not good reasons. 

So, it's reboot time baby.