Coffee With Bertrand the Mouse

Good morning!

I found an old coffee photo of Bertrand the Mouse the other day, which made me think of all the coffee memories we've made together.

I'm sharing seven with you this morning, with the last photo also featuring Uncle Barty. I hope you enjoy them.

Happy Monday! 

Lunch With Ed Calkins

In all the years I've known Ed Calkins (the real Ed and the pretend Ed), we've actually never sat and had a real conversation.

When he was my supervisor for one of my paper routes, we obviously had verbal interaction.

And when I was writing him into the ByonySeries "drop of blood" trilogy, I often interviewed him by phone.

But a real conversation? Never, not in the more than ten years since I met him.

We remedied that on President's Day, since I was off work.

Over a very long lunch (several hours), we caught up on life, work, the BryonySeries and Ruthless, his first novel, which tells the back story of the pretend Ed Calkins and will be part of the BryonySeries.

Since he's adding some of my characters to the storytelling, he was concerned about remaining true to my vision of them. I reassured him that because Ed Calkins (in all forms) is an unreliable narrator, he could do what we wanted with the characters.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Ed smiled with relief.

When we parted, he asked for another lunch meeting, six months out, to keep him on track and accountable regarding his novel, so we set one for July.

My WriteOn Joliet co-leader Tom Hernandez says our adult critique group always honors the effort. Honoring the effort doesn't mean getting a shiny gold star simply because one writes something of dubious quality.

For some writers, that's as far as they will write, and that's OK.

Other writers want to keep develop their writing a bit more, and that's OK, too.

Others want to polish forever (and then polish some more), and that's OK, too.

We honor that effort every step of the way.

Not with a gold star.

But with honest, thoughtful feedback, encouragement, and suggestions.

In short, we respond to the piece.

Unless one is keeping a journal, writers want to be heard.

In any form of communication, one speaks, the other listens. And vice versa.

But sometimes writing feels like the proverbial tree in the forest. When we sit - alone - in our space, we wonder if anyone will ever "hear?"

The best gift you can give a writer is to hear - and then to respond.

That's how one honors the effort. That's how you "hear" the writer.

In Ed's case, as a writer who'd long ago given up on writing due to all the obstacles (computer crashes, terrible dyslexia, and a bad case of the scatterbrain), I've kept WriteOn Joliet's vision by providing opportunities for him to be known as a writer.

I've written him into my series.

I've given him a spot on my blog and published a series of those blogs into a book.

And I'm "helping" him with his first novel, which is connected to my series.

"Helping" means answering questions, providing encouragement, and then guiding him through the editing and publishing process.

But Ed still has to do the hard work of writing and overcoming the obstacles that impede that work - especially since he wants a finished book and copies in hand for Calkins Day 2021!

He's setting his own deadlines. I believe he will fulfill them.

After all, Ed is a paper carrier. And paper carriers are all about the deadline (I should know).

Pictured are the real Ed Calkins and the real Bertrand The Mouse. Both are characters in the BryonySeries.

Bertrand already has his own series going, six books so far.

Now it's Ed's turn.

Amazing Recapped

Sunday, October 27, 2013

I Met the Most Amazing Man on Saturday: This is Why I'll Never Be (Money) Rich

So before you start reading anything more into this post than what it means, let me further say that I had coffee with two very nice men on Saturday morning, an interview for a feature story.

Yes, I tend to prefer telephone interviews, but one man was over eighty, and the other man was someone I'd interviewed many times for various stories and had never met in person.

Hence, the coffee meeting.

Near the end of the interview, I asked the elder gentleman how he ended up in Joliet, as he originally lived in another state. Well, that's where the story grew interesting.

What really could have been a two sentence answer evolved into a thirty minute expounding of the man's early years as one thought of his bumped into another thought and led to yet another.

Perhaps more efficient reporter types would have re-directed the conversation and quickly, but politely, concluded the meeting, but it seemed to me this man just wanted to talk about this portion of his life and tell this particular story.

Yes, I had a tight schedule for the day. Surprised?

And yet, that's not how I treat the people I interview. I earn my crust of bread by telling other people's stories. The key word here is "people." I respect their sharing, often deep sharing, of significant events in their lives to me and how those events make them feel. They laugh; they cry.

So I reciprocate by respecting their occasional need to talk.

When this man finished, I again thanked him for his time, as I rose, slid on my coat, and then extended my hand. The man, too, stood and firmly returned the greeting.

And then he said, "I like you. You're different from other people."

I wish I could remember more than soundbites. But as I sank, opened-mouthed, back in my chair, the man continued, eyes locked onto mine, for another five minutes or so in this vein:

   *  "I can tell you're deep, but you don't always let people see that, only when they should."

   *  "Women like to talk, but men sometimes have things to say, too. You listen to them. That's a highly unusual quality in a woman. Did you know that?"

   *  "You're a joyful person. Not too many people have joy in their lives. There's not much that upsets you."

   *  "You're all about love, and, love, is always victorious in the end."

I supposed if I didn't spend time with people, I could churn out more stories and make more money.

But then again, my stories wouldn't resonate with the humanness that makes people relate to them.

So, I'll continue on as a struggling freelancer.

Wondering, though, if this gentleman might not like to have coffee again.