It has been a while since my last blog post. It has been a busy summer, and I’ve had a lot to do with trying to make the weeds grow in my garden and all. Today it was raining and a Monday so I thought I’d write something.
I had an unexpected tragedy occur in my life: my coffee pot died—I cried a little. One day I poured water in it, and the water slowly leaked out the bottom and made a big puddle on the floor. It kind of reminded me of Grandpa, or me in a few years. I have a back-up coffee pot I’m using now, but it’s not the same. My old pot had a timer and a little red digital clock that told me every morning what time it was: COFFEE TIME! The pot I’m using now just has a boring on/off switch. I used to wake up in the morning and my coffee would be waiting for me, hot and fresh like an old friend or a junkie’s syringe. Now I wake up and have to turn on the boring switch and wait three days for the coffee to get done—maybe its ten minutes, but either way it’s waaaaay too long.
My wife has one of those new coffee pots that uses plastic cups with pre-measured coffee grounds already in them to make a single cup of coffee at a time. I have a problem with some person in Montreal, Canada deciding how strong I can have my coffee. You can’t give the Canadians that kind of power! The next thing you know, Bangladesh will decide how much ketchup we can have on our French fries, then the French will decide how many tanks we can have and the Portuguese how many nuclear missiles! Wake up people!!! (Did I mention the coffee pot I’m currently using can hold more grounds than my old one and can make the coffee stronger?)
My wife says she’ll watch for a sale on the kind of coffee pot I used to have, which means I’ll be getting one for my birthday or Christmas which is waaaaay to far away. Coffee is my elixir of life. We should build a monument to the first caveman (Juan Valdez) who saw a herd of wild coffees and hunted one down and dragged it home for his wife (Mrs. Olson) to cook. For the next million years after that, they just fed the coffee to their donkey until Joe Dimaggio invented the Mr. Coffee machine so we could all wake up, drink coffee and keep our eyes open without blinking until noon. (Did I mention I like my coffee strong?)
I’ve been doing a lot of writing, working on my fifth novel. It’s a horror novel I’m calling The Almond People, even though there are no almonds or even people who look like almonds. (There is a nut, but in my books that’s usually taken for granted.) It’s going to be longer than any book I’ve done before—I’m guessing about 90,000 to 120,000 words, depending on how much I decide to cut when I start editing. Stephen King said when he wrote The Stand it was like Vietnam in that he didn’t know when or how it would end. I know how mine will end, but it keeps growing and going down side routes to get there. I think I have four chapters left in the rough draft, which will make thirty-nine chapters all together, but I do have an idea for a fortieth.
Anyway, I have to go push a button and wait a couple days for some coffee. Those of you who have bought my novel In The Lake, a big thank you. I’d appreciate a review.