It began some five years ago as a project to fill up time while I was looking for a gig. Five chapters in, I hit a block. I didn't know how the story ended. I was stuck. I stayed stuck for 4 years until in the midst of a political discussion with a lunatic friend somehow the topic of writing came up. I mentioned that I had written a novel, but couldn't finish it. My friend asked me to send it to him, so I did. Three days later he messaged me "So, how's it end?". In that moment I knew how it ended. It took another 4 months to write it, but it was done.
Editing is a special hell. Re-writes are expected. They are the real work in writing and best done by the score. Editing, on the other hand, is like slowly drawing an intestine out of your abdomen. Sentence by sentence, comma by comma, verb by verb you examine your writing balancing the voice of the narrator with the rules of common grammar as would be understood by a twelve year old kid.
So, it's done. First edition is out on Amazon. More editing is being done by a professional, and a second edition will follow, as will hardcopy publishing.
Take a look. If you read it, I would ask that you review on Amazon. They say that helps. The link below will take you to it's page on Amazon.
Me, Boo and The Goob: A Southern Adventure
Saturday, July 30, 2016
Monday, January 11, 2016
The Hazards of Ice Diving
In Jersey, January always brings talk of ice diving, but no discussion of ice diving can be complete without an adequate, no, without a detailed discussion of the hazards and dangers associated with it. Most diving is conducted in summer months, when it is warm and the sun is out. Not ice diving! Ice diving is done when it's cold, and let me tell you there is nothing worse that being cold and wet....and bleeding.
Last January, ice diving very nearly cost me my life. I wasn't trapped under the ice, nor did my regulator free flow. My dry suit didn't leak, and I didn't get lost. I simply went outside one cold, cold, rainy morning.
The back door to our house has two concrete steps to the driveway. They are nine inch risers. That means that floor level of the house is 18 inches, one and a half feet.
It was a cold and rainy day. As per my custom, I rose before dawn and came down to the kitchen for coffee. My eldest, Jenn, joined me and we enjoyed conversation and coffee while the sun came up. The temperature was dropping through the thirties, approaching freezing. Jordan, the misunderstood middle child, joined us. More coffee flowed as we chatted.
I casually glanced through the window on the back door to notice that the smoke stack of my Big Green Egg was open. This could not be! Water was getting into my Egg!
I opened the back door and stepped quickly out to go close the damper on the Big Green Egg. That's it. Just stepped out.
Water is an interesting thing. When it is colder than 32 degrees, and the temperature is rising it will transition from ice to water at 32 degrees. When it is warmer than 32 degrees and the temperature is falling, it will become ice at 32. This interesting phenomena was occuring that very morning just as I was stepping out of the back door.
My first step was with my right foot. I stepped onto the cold, wet, concrete step and my foot accelerated forward and upward at an ungodly rate of speed, causing the rest of me to exit the back door and begin a backward rotation. This rotation, coupled with my rate descent ( at 9.8 Meters per second squared), combined to produce a pretty damn impressive half gainer that was spoiled only because I landed on my shoulders and neck as a result of my rotation speed being severely diminished when I struck the tip of the little finger of my right hand on the corner of a frozen 4x4.
Let that soak in. The corner of a frozen 4x4. Yes, that place where three planes come together and form a point, a very sharp and pointy point. The impact of my little finger on that point not only slowed my rotation to the point that it spoiled my Half Gainer, but it also cut the last joint of that pinky finger to the bone, which, was also broken.
As I lay bleeding and cussing on the cold wet ice, my misunderstood middle child, Jordan, came flying out the door. Before I could warn her, she hit the ice and executed a perfect back flip with a half twist, landing on all fours beside me. Obviously jazzed by the success of her impressive and challenging dive, she shouted at me, "DAD! ARE YOU HAVING A HEART ATTACK?" Clearly she feared I had been struck deaf too.
Eight hours and twelve stitches later, Jenn, Jordan and I attended Catfish's 18th birthday party. Over the next month, Frankenfinger, the name I gave to my mangled diget, got infected and made life pretty miserable. Finally, after big antibiotics and much time, it healed.
So, when it's cold out, and it's raining, and you are tempted to go out to do something. Remember this: Unlike bourbon, 220 lbs of well marbled, middle aged man does not mix well with ice.
Last January, ice diving very nearly cost me my life. I wasn't trapped under the ice, nor did my regulator free flow. My dry suit didn't leak, and I didn't get lost. I simply went outside one cold, cold, rainy morning.
The back door to our house has two concrete steps to the driveway. They are nine inch risers. That means that floor level of the house is 18 inches, one and a half feet.
It was a cold and rainy day. As per my custom, I rose before dawn and came down to the kitchen for coffee. My eldest, Jenn, joined me and we enjoyed conversation and coffee while the sun came up. The temperature was dropping through the thirties, approaching freezing. Jordan, the misunderstood middle child, joined us. More coffee flowed as we chatted.
I casually glanced through the window on the back door to notice that the smoke stack of my Big Green Egg was open. This could not be! Water was getting into my Egg!
I opened the back door and stepped quickly out to go close the damper on the Big Green Egg. That's it. Just stepped out.
Water is an interesting thing. When it is colder than 32 degrees, and the temperature is rising it will transition from ice to water at 32 degrees. When it is warmer than 32 degrees and the temperature is falling, it will become ice at 32. This interesting phenomena was occuring that very morning just as I was stepping out of the back door.
My first step was with my right foot. I stepped onto the cold, wet, concrete step and my foot accelerated forward and upward at an ungodly rate of speed, causing the rest of me to exit the back door and begin a backward rotation. This rotation, coupled with my rate descent ( at 9.8 Meters per second squared), combined to produce a pretty damn impressive half gainer that was spoiled only because I landed on my shoulders and neck as a result of my rotation speed being severely diminished when I struck the tip of the little finger of my right hand on the corner of a frozen 4x4.
Let that soak in. The corner of a frozen 4x4. Yes, that place where three planes come together and form a point, a very sharp and pointy point. The impact of my little finger on that point not only slowed my rotation to the point that it spoiled my Half Gainer, but it also cut the last joint of that pinky finger to the bone, which, was also broken.
As I lay bleeding and cussing on the cold wet ice, my misunderstood middle child, Jordan, came flying out the door. Before I could warn her, she hit the ice and executed a perfect back flip with a half twist, landing on all fours beside me. Obviously jazzed by the success of her impressive and challenging dive, she shouted at me, "DAD! ARE YOU HAVING A HEART ATTACK?" Clearly she feared I had been struck deaf too.
Eight hours and twelve stitches later, Jenn, Jordan and I attended Catfish's 18th birthday party. Over the next month, Frankenfinger, the name I gave to my mangled diget, got infected and made life pretty miserable. Finally, after big antibiotics and much time, it healed.
So, when it's cold out, and it's raining, and you are tempted to go out to do something. Remember this: Unlike bourbon, 220 lbs of well marbled, middle aged man does not mix well with ice.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)