The Writer's Life 10/30 - Season of the Witch

One week until the most interesting election ever. Why do I believe that? Because I didn't think President Trump had a chance in hell in 2016, so it was only mildly interesting. I'm as sure the Dems will take the House as I was two years ago that the witch would lead the nation. I just hope the shootings haven't tilted the senate left as well.

Hundreds of witches, warlocks and wizards paddled along Oregon's Willamette River last Saturday. The event is called the Standup Paddleboard Witch Paddle. Participants donated new clothing and coats to a charitable organization. Here's a pic from oregonlive.com:

When you're up at 4:30 AM you need quiet occupation. Fortunately the computer provides it. Proof-reading doesn't create any noise that might disturb sleeping neighbors. Two days early, I've begun the second of three scheduled washes of the novel I intend to self-publish in January. The first chapter, 20 pages, didn't require much work. I may add a passage along the way. Speaking recently with a high school teammate who's a significant part of my second novel, Adjustments, he mentioned that an incident from our senior season, 1966, is not in the book. I was certain he was wrong. Well, I still have the file and I ran a search. It's not there. I'm so pissed. How in the world could I have omitted such a happy and humorous event? Fortunately, that idiocy may be remedied. This morning it occurred to me that I might be able to squeeze it into my current project, as the protagonist often works as a substitute at his alma mater, where he has been an assistant coach. It would have been a better fit for Adjustments, but it would be lunacy to go back and add it there. I think it will work well in Inside Out. I won't say anything to that teammate, who was our captain, until I'm confident the passage works seamlessly. I will suggest he not buy the book when it becomes available, as it's salacious and he is very religious. 

My thanks to the retired Romanian super, who donated a box filled with about 15 hardcover books in Russian in excellent condition, lugging them several blocks, cigarette between his lips. My thanks also to the woman who donated several others, and to the elderly woman who bought two, and to the younger one who purchased six while speaking on her cell phone during the entire browse and transaction. Finally, my thanks to Frank, who selected The Deceiver by Frederick Forsyth, the session's only sale in English. My back was aching when I lugged everything back to the car, even though it was less than 15 yards away. It's okay now, three hours later.

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