Archive for the ‘Persistence’ Category
2014 Racine Concert Band Season Continues Tomorrow . . .
Folks, I didn’t manage to get up a reminder about the Racine Concert Band summer concerts at the Racine Zoo in July . . . at least, I don’t remember doing so. But we have four more free concerts left out at the Zoo, and I figured I’d get over here and say a few brief words about tomorrow night’s 7:00 P.M. concert to whet your interest.
Tomorrow night’s concert features trumpet soloist Mark Eichner and xylophone soloist Nicholas Stainbrook — and if you’re a longtime reader of my blog, you’re probably going, “Mark Eichner? Isn’t he the conductor of the band? How can he play a solo?”
I could be sarcastic and say, “Very easily, thank you.” (Oops, I just was.) Because we have a guest conductor for two pieces, our regular euphonium player Paul Taylor (who led a high school band for many years in the Kenosha Unified School District — Bradford High, I think) will conduct two pieces — Eichner’s trumpet solo “Beautiful Colorado,” which is a virtuosic waltz for trumpet and concert band, and “The Florentiner” march directly before the solo.
This concert interests me more than most of the others because I’m playing the first clarinet parts instead of the second alto saxophone parts. I even have a solo on Chaminade’s “Scarf Dance,” which is a piece of French band music with the characteristic French harmonies (love that stuff, truly), and have a number of very good and very melodic parts. (We haven’t seen much of that in the saxophone section so far this summer. Depends on the year what we get, of course.)
Other things that may interest you: My usual stand-mate, Vivian Krenzke, will have an extended alto saxophone solo on “Spiritual,” and Vera Olguin will have several solos on both flute and piccolo among the woodwinds. Dave Kapralian and others in the cornet and trumpet section have some interesting parts, and our substitute first horn player (sorry, I don’t know her name; she’s a dark-haired woman with a robust sound and exquisite musicianship) will have a lengthy solo in one of the French pieces also.
Mind, there’s a good amount of music people who usually go to band concerts will recognize — Percy Grainger’s “Country Gardens,” several marches, including John Philip Sousa’s “King Cotton,” and a waltz from the ballet “Coppelia.” (This last is something you often hear on television commercials in vastly shortened form.) And did I mention this concert is absolutely free yet?
All you have to do, if you want to come out and see it, is go to one of the two side entrances to the Racine Zoo. (That way, you’re getting in for nothing. Besides, the front entrances should be closed by the time you get there at six-thirty or so to grab a spot on the lawn.) Bring a blanket or a lawn chair, and prepare to be captivated by sound.
See you tomorrow evening at 7:00!
——
P.S. After the concert, please make sure to tell your local alderman and/or Racine Mayor John Dickert how much you enjoy our absolutely free Zoo concerts. Because we still need your support — badly.
“Youngstown Boys” a Story of Hope, Redemption, and College Athletics
Folks, over the past few weeks, I’ve been struggling with first something akin to strep throat, then a nasty sinus bug. While I’ve continued to edit and write as much as I can, I haven’t been able to be online much and I certainly haven’t been able to blog. It’s not a fun state to be in, to put it mildly.
What I do when I’m feeling like this is watch a lot of television. But in addition to watching the Milwaukee Brewers play baseball, which I do whether sick or well, I’ve been catching up with ESPN’s “30 for 30” documentaries. And one, in particular, I felt was quite memorable: Youngstown Boys.
Why? Well, this is a documentary of troubled running back Maurice Clarett, once of Ohio State University, and his college coach, Jim Tressel. Both were from Youngstown, Ohio (hence the name); both started at OSU at the same time. And while Tressel stayed involved in Clarett’s life, good things happened for both of them, culminating in a 14-0 season and a double-overtime win over Miami in the Fiesta Bowl during the 2002 season.
Then Clarett ran into trouble. He’d gotten some help with getting a car and a cell phone. He admits to this in the film. The NCAA, in their infinite whatever, started an investigation — but before the NCAA could suspend Clarett, OSU suspended him instead . . . for the entire 2003 season.
And Tressel, the guy who had said he’d help Clarett when Tressel had recruited him, stood aside. (Possibly Tressel was in fear of losing his own job, or maybe Tressel just didn’t have the strength of character to intercede right then and there. But Tressel redeemed himself later on . . . more on that later.)
At this point, I was livid. I am a big proponent of players being paid, and think the way the NCAA forces athletes to live is utterly wrong. And the whole idea that a young man like Clarett, whose only goal in life was to play professional football, could get derailed like this was quite frustrating.
But it got worse. Clarett’s lawyers sued the NFL and tried to get him “draft-eligible,” as this was Clarett’s best shot at making a living. Clarett won his first-round court case, too . . . but lost later on.
So what’s a guy to do when he doesn’t have his scholarship, is poor, has tremendous athletic gifts, but has no direction? Clarett tried for a few years to ready himself for the NFL on his own, with indifferent success. And while Clarett was drafted by the Denver Broncos down the line, he never took so much as one snap in a preseason game before being let go by the Broncos.
After that, things just went into a downward spiral for Clarett. He ended up in prison, which could’ve broken him.
Instead, prison actually saved him — saved his life — as he started using his intelligence for good things. He started to read voraciously. He stayed in good contact with his girlfriend, calling her every day, and even started a blog (he’d read what he’d written to her, and she’d post it online). And he vowed to both redeem himself and to reform.
At this point, Tressel ran into trouble himself due to a recruiting scandal at OSU. Maybe because of this — the movie wasn’t clear — Tressel decided to involve himself again in Clarett’s life. And the two of them have become fast friends, working on behalf of improving other people’s lives. Reminding people that so long as you live, you can hope for better, dream of better — and you should do those very things no matter how badly the deck is stacked against you.
Mind, both of these men’s lives have not gone according to plan. Clarett, who had all the talent in the world to become a star running back in professional football, is now a motivational speaker and runs football camps. And Tressel, oddly enough, is now the President of Youngstown State University — a place where he won multiple national football championships at the I-AA level (now called the Football Championship Subdivision, or FCS) — and has retired from coaching college football.
But I venture to say that the detours both men’s lives have taken have made them better and stronger people. Clarett speaks to many, including former and current inmates, and his words have the ring of authority. He’s done some very strong and positive things since getting out of prison, and it’s possible that none of that would’ve happened if he hadn’t gotten into bad trouble — then clawed his way out of it. And Tressel is active in many charities and has stayed in contact with many of his former players, including a number of troubled ones, and his life has been deepened and broadened thereby also.
Youngstown Boys, in short, was a powerful film that affected me deeply. It showed that no matter how long it takes, goals and dreams matter. Even if you don’t achieve one goal today, you can still achieve it tomorrow; even if you can’t do it tomorrow, you can do it the next day if you refuse to give up, you refuse to give in, and you refuse to take “no” for an answer.
I think many people — not just writers, editors, and musicians — can learn from these men. Because it shows that redemption is truly possible, and that you can, indeed, become a better and stronger person through adversity.
————
Quick note: I’ll be working on a couple of stories the rest of this week, so blog posts may be scarce. But I hope to finally get a review up of VICTORIES at Shiny Book Review later this week, so do stay tuned for that (computer connectivity problems kept me from it last week).
Keeping Hope Alive . . .
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been doing my best to keep hope alive. Life has been difficult and frustrating; it’s almost inconceivable to me, sometimes, that I’m still alive and my husband Michael has been dead for nearly ten years.
And I’m all that remains of what we’d hoped and dreamed for. I’m the only one who can finish his work, as well as my own. And as it’s difficult for me to figure out just what Michael had intended to do — writer Ursula Jones called this phenomenon “breaking into” someone else’s thinking (she was discussing finishing up her sister Diana Wynne Jones’ novel THE ISLANDS OF CHALDEA in the end-notes) — sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing in carrying on Michael’s work.
Then again, I loved Michael, and I loved his stories, too. It makes me feel closer to him to do whatever I can to keep things going, even if what I write isn’t exactly the same as what he’d have written. Even if it’s taking me ten times as long to figure out this new novella set on Bubastis as it undoubtedly would’ve taken him, at least I’m trying to do it.
And that, in and of itself, is worthwhile. Michael would tell me so, if he were here . . . though of course, if he were, I’d not be doing this.
Mind you, I’m not the only writer who has ever wondered whether or not what I’m doing makes any sense. This blog from writersrelief.com about Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and writing explains why writing and hope are so inextricably mixed:
As human beings and creative writers, we sometimes have a tumultuous relationship with hope. Hope keeps us going. We hope someone will understand what we’re trying to say with our writing. We hope the world will be a better place for our children. But when times get tough, hope can also feel like cold comfort.
Why have hope? we ask ourselves. What good will it do me if I know I can’t succeed? Sometimes when the task ahead seems truly impossible, hope seems futile.
But few people understand what it means to be hopeful as deeply as the man we honor every year at this time: Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., a pioneer of the civil rights movement. King’s dream was simple, but achieving it meant overcoming countless barriers and complexities. In many ways, hope was the driving force behind his remarkable achievements.
I missed this blog when it was first put up in January of 2014, but I find its words to be especially meaningful right now. (After all, studying the work of Martin Luther King, Jr., is never a bad thing.) I cannot imagine the odds against Dr. King when he first started agitating for civil rights and fair pay for laborers and equal rights for women and any number of other positive things — and he must’ve felt discouraged from time to time, too.
He didn’t show it very often, because Dr. King knew that people needed to believe that their lives, however meaningless they seemed, could indeed make a difference. So on bad days, he must’ve said, “I’m going to go out there and do the best I can,” and given whatever speech he had planned with whatever energy he had. And in so doing, he helped to lift people up with his words.
Words matter. Whether you’re an orator or a writer (or somewhere in between).
When I write a story, I want to make you think about something beyond yourself. Pondering something else can give you hope, because it means you can still think, still feel, still understand.
And I know that was Michael’s motivation for writing, also. He wanted to divert people, get them outside of themselves, and give them a few hours of entertainment that might actually make ’em smile . . . maybe that’s why I’ve pushed so hard with my own novel AN ELFY ON THE LOOSE, because as a comic fantasy, what else can it do but make people smile?
Before I go, let me share one quote (also cited in the Writer’s Relief article) I found especially meaningful from Dr. King: “We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.”
That, in a nutshell, is why I keep writing. Because I believe in hope. And that hope has to come from my own, hard work and effort — otherwise, why would it be worth anything?
Fourth Blog Anniversary Today
Folks, it’s been four years today since I started this blog. And because it’s a special day of a certain type, I figured I’d get on here and ask you for something special, too.
(No, it’s not publishing related.)
Please consider becoming an organ donor.
Why do I care about this? Well, when Michael died, as per his wishes I donated his organs. This was not easy to do — they asked a number of questions that were both difficult to answer and invasive, because by law they must ask these terrible questions (such as: did he have AIDS? Did he have any diseases you know about? If so, what?).
Fortunately, I knew this was what Michael wanted. So I persevered with these awful questions, and donated his organs. Several people were helped thereby.
At the time, we lived in Iowa, so I continue to receive newsletters from the Iowa Donor Network thanking me (and my husband) for donating his organs. If you live in Iowa, that’s where you need to go if you’re thinking about organ donation for yourself or any family members.
However, if you live in Wisconsin, if you want to donate your organs after your death, you need to go to the Wisconsin Donor Registry and sign up.
Other states, of course, have different donor registries.
Aside from that, the only other thing I’d like my readers to do today is to make sure their after-death wishes are known. It can be difficult to discuss this, especially if you are young and in the prime of life. I get that, but if Michael and I hadn’t had this conversation, I’d not have known what to do when the time came.
No one wants to think about losing a loved one at a young age. No one wants to think about themselves dying early, either.
But it happens, sometimes. And if that terrible thing does occur, it’s best for your loved ones to know exactly what they must do.
Received Results for Writers of the Future Contest, Quarter One
Folks, a while back I told you all that I’d sent off my last-ever story to the Writers of the Future Contest. I was under the impression that once my novel, AN ELFY ON THE LOOSE, was out, I would be ineligible.
I was wrong.**
But as I didn’t know it, the submission I sent in for the first quarter of the Writers of the Future Contest’s 2014 cycle meant a great deal to me.
You see, I was looking over one of my husband Michael’s incomplete novels. This novel, MINIATURES, features a space Naval officer who had been a Marine non-com for over fifty years, and who was more or less shanghaied into the Navy against his wishes.***
And I’d always wanted to know more about this character, Peter . . . so I wrote a story around 2,000 words of Michael’s writing, to explain just what had happened to Peter that caused him to go from a job he loved — being a Marine Sergeant-Major — to a job he really didn’t want to do, but didn’t actively despise — a Naval Ensign.
Michael’s novel picks up after Peter has become a Naval officer, you see. But one of the earliest parts of his novel discusses just how Peter meets up with his were-mouse (a companion who’s far more than an animal; were-mice are more like an allied species) while Peter’s on leave. Michael’s novel had this pivotal scene in a place where Peter had finished his training but hadn’t yet been assigned to a ship . . . yet it didn’t seem to make sense that way.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized there was much more to the story. So I wrote about what Peter had done that was so heroic that he’d be given a prestigious medal and taken from the service he loved — the Marines — and put into the Navy, where he’d never wanted to be. And flying starships seemed to be a part of it, as Peter loved to fly and could fly anything you care to name . . . but the Marines hadn’t officially known about it.
Because Marines, most especially non-coms, do not fly starships. They are ground troops. Maybe a few of them fly shuttlecraft. But Peter does a lot more than that, and because he basically had to take charge after nearly all the officers were killed (and the few who weren’t were already in Sickbay), that’s why he got the medal. And that’s why he also bonded with his were-mouse, because his were-mouse companion also loves to fly.
And as Michael already had this — yes, he did have this pivotal bit of information already in the text — why not write a story that made much more out of these events?
So that’s exactly what I did, adding seven thousand words or so to the story to make it all work out.
The story’s name is “To Survive the Maelstrom.” It won an honorable mention in the first quarter of the Writers of the Future contest. This is the first time I’ve ever had that honor — and it’s also the first time Michael had that honor.
I’m glad that “To Survive the Maelstrom” won an honorable mention, as it does validate, at least in part, what I’m trying to do in keeping Michael’s work alive while doing my best to add to it.
I will be sending “To Survive the Maelstrom” out to the various markets, including the Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction (they’re always the first ones I try), and if F&SF doesn’t like it, I’ll try it at Lightspeed. And Analog. And Asimov’s . . . and, down the line, if I can’t interest anyone in it, I will put it up for sale myself.
Because I believe in this story. I believe in my husband’s writing, and my own, and I think the combination of the two of our talents made for an exceptional short story — something that’s more than the sum of its parts.
And yes . . . now that I know I’m still eligible (as it’s unlikely that AN ELFY ON THE LOOSE will sell 5,000 copies any time soon, much less before June 30, 2014, the next quarter’s deadline), I’m going to try another story at the Writers of the Future Contest.
Why not?
———
**AN ELFY ON THE LOOSE is unlikely to sell 5,000 copies, most particularly not before June 30, 2014, the end of the next quarter for the Writers of the Future Contest. So because of that — and because my professional publications still stand at 1.5 (one co-written story with Michael, one alone) that have sold or will sell 5,000 copies — I am still eligible. Heard that from the Contest Administrator’s own e-mail, earlier this evening.
***BTW, the main reason MINIATURES hasn’t already been published is that I cannot find the final fourteen chapters. At all. Once I do, I will incorporate what I’ve written in “To Survive the Maelstrom” and just keep on running . . . Michael would approve.