Joseph Carrabis, Author Blog – Page 206 – Quite the Life (and all in Times New Roman 10pt!)

Hecate and Gracie – BFF

Nothing like a daily meet and greet with someone you know and love

Observe Hecate and Gracie. Hecate’s on the left, Gracie’s on the right. The video below is in two parts with several days in between.

Hecate always comes mid afternoon now and I wrote about the significance of such. What’s interesting is that she’s made friends with a turkey.

A turkey?

They’re not natural enemies in The Wild. They’re not natural friends, either. Raccoons will eat turkey eggs left unattended. They’re opportunistic that way.

But a young adult hen (we’re still in doubt about Gracie’s gender, truth be told. She’s starting to show some male traits. Steroids, we think) and a mother raccoon? Hmm…

They’ll come into the yard separately, see each other and with a few clucks and chortles of greeting, begin dining side-by-side.

Totally different species making it work.

They pity us, I’m sure. All humans are the same species and we can’t make it work.

But I digress…

The other day we noticed some new behaviors. Hecate, shortly after she arrives, sits back and stares into our backroom to get our attention. Failing that, she’ll come up on the porch and walk back and forth. Failing that, she’ll (I’m not kidding) come to the back door and pound on it. Okay, scratch at it. To her, I’m sure she’s pounding.

The new behavior involved Gracie. Not having any fresh seed, she came to one of the windows and stared in, clucking. That failing, she walked back and forth on our porch. Failing that, she…

Truth be told, I was so involved in work I didn’t notice her until I saw our cat staring at her.

But it doesn’t end there. Gracie and Hecate both stare at us now. Gracie clucks and fluffs and spreads her wings to get our attention. Hecate incites her, “Do it again. I think it’s working.”

Anyway, Hecate and Gracie. BFF.

Charles R. Swindoll’s “Touching Others With Your Words”

An interesting read if you’re an anthropologist studying this segment of modern culture but not worth most writer’s time

First, it fascinates me that my copy is entitled “Touching Others With Your Words/The Art and Practice of Successful Speaking” and the Amazon version is “Saying It Well/Touching Others With Your Words.” Perhaps between my edition and the current one the author learned the importance of concision in crafting titles?

This book is about crafting good sermons. But good sermons are essentially good stories. Does the author provide enough insight into good story-telling and -crafting to make it a worthwhile read?

For my part, not really. Unless you’re evangelical, it takes a lot of reading to find the nuggets worth keeping.

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The Writer’s Digest Handbook of Short Story Writing

A good worker’s trade book

The Goodreads blurb is “Some of the best advice available on how to create character, use description, create a setting and plot a short story.” The Amazon blurb is “Here’s a collection of the most helpful articles from WRITER’S DIGEST magazine covering every aspect of short story writing. Every writer, from beginner to professional, will find guidance, encouragement, and answers to such concerns as how to make characters believable, developing dialogue, writer’s block, viewpoint, the all-important use of conflict, and much more.”

Definitely some advice although not until the third section (Characterization). The first two sections read more like Brenda Ueland’s If You Want to Write, basically cheering sections for those unsure and/or starting out (which is to be expected. This was the handbook for the Writer’s Digest Fiction writing course).

I can believe that the separate chapters were Writer’s Digest articles. They both read as such and, from a business perspective, why solicit for something already owned?

Is it helpful? Yes. I was suprised at how much new (to me), useful information the book contained (once I got past the rah-rah sections).

There’s enough in here to keep writers developing their craft going for quite a while. I do recommend it.

Brenda Ueland’s “If You Want to Write”

A feel good book for writers not feeling good about their writing

Another interesting little book that’s about writing but not about writing. The subtitle is ‘A Book about Art, Independence and Spirit’. The first thing this indicates is that the book was written before the Oxford Comma became dominant. It also indicates the heart of the book isn’t about “how to” so much as “enjoy doing it.”

I’d recommend this book to someone starting their writer’s journey, someone unsure of their ability, their craft, someone basically unsure if writing is something they want to do or not.

There’s not a lot of “how to” in the book. I’m not sure there’s any “how to” in the book, really.

What there is is a lot of “you can do it. Yes, you can!” There’s a lot of rah-rah-go-get-em-tiger in the book. Chapter 17 is a gift to Pantsers everywhere.

Empty Sky Chapter 6 – Jack Games

Best Friends. Forever.

Read Empty Sky Chapter 5 – Joni Levis

Jack Games leaned against Room 343’s window. 343 was the largest private patient’s room in his clinic and the only one with a picture window overlooking the University of Chicago Medical Center’s quad. He watched some med students play hackeysac on the lawn while others sat on benches soaking up the sun. The quad was surrounded on all sides by the Medical Center’s white, gray and tan facades. The university hospital stood just out of sight off to the side.

“What are we going to do, Tom?”

Tom McPherson snored, a gentle hnnh sound.

Thirty PhDs, MDs, DScis and related specialists worked for Dr. Jackson Arthur Games. He chaired the University of Chicago’s Neurosciences Department, co-chaired the Center for Narcolepsy Research at the University of Illinois, Chicago, was on the board of the Defense and Civil Institute of Environmental Medicine in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, unofficially owned the third floor of the Brain Research Institute, sat on the board of the BRF Center for Molecular Neurobiology, and on Monday afternoons held an online, invitation-only Sleep Disorders Specialty Clinic.

None of which meant shit right now. Jackson Arthur Games had come a long way from DC’s Prospero House, the largest orphans’ home in the tri-state area, and most of it with the McPherson family’s financial backing.

“Smart investment, eh, Tom? You spent how much money on my education and I can’t do a frickin’ thing for you now?”

Tom hnnhed. Tom hnnhed in his sleep for as long as Jack knew him.

He remembered one day when he and Tom were in Jack’s college dorm room. Jack got dressed while Tom sat on the bed, watching Jack’s silhouette against a not quite as large window.

“Holy shit, Jack. You’re black.”

“All the way down and for most of my life, smart ass.”

“No, I mean, I’ve always known you were a ‘black man’, but I never noticed your skin. It’s black. Darker than mine anyway. Wow. That’s neat.”

Jack held up his hand as if to check Tom’s statement then caught himself. Tom’s sincerity was both stupifyied and contagious. But Tom had always been innocent and naive in ways Jack couldn’t quite fathom.

“You are truly color blind, my friend.”

Their bond cemented a year later in their junior year.

Tom was packing his car for Christmas break and Jack blocked his path. “Hey, fuckhead.”

“What?”

“How come you never ask me home? What’s the matter, you a closet racist? You got something against orphans? Did you think I had someplace to go?”

Tom made no comment. He picked up a laundry bag and put it in his trunk. “None of that’s true, Jack. You know that.”

“Well, you never ask me home. What’s the prob? You got a crazy uncle locked in the attic?”

Tom stopped mid way to his trunk with a box of books in his hands. “No. Go get your things. I’d love to have you with me for the holidays.”

They drove two-hundred highway miles in silence. They exited the highway and traveled some low mountain country roads until they came to a old village built along a river.

Jack said, “Is that a waterpowered mill?”

“Yes. Still operational. Doesn’t power anything, just something to look at and remember.”

Jack looked at the company store turned country store, the hitching posts, rail guides, and water troughs still prevalent along Main Street. “Wow, what a sense of history.”

“History. You got that right.”

They rode another twenty minutes in silence. Tom turned up a gravel drive hidden in trees at the far side of town. The drive stopped at an ivy covered mansion buried in a copse of oak, ash and pine.

“Tom, I’m sorry. This was a stupid idea. I’ll head back to town and hitch back to school.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been here before, Tom. I’ve made friends before whose family thought the darker the skin the more ignorant the man. I don’t need to be your proof that desegregation doesn’t work.”

“You think that’s why I never asked you home?”

“Well?”