I know there are more important matters to complain about than the weather, but...

I’m not specifically saying that Seattle weather is particularly bad this August, but…

I flipped my Sports Illustrated golf calendar at work over to September in prep for next Tuesday. The photo for the month is the 5th hole of the links course at Royal Portrush in Northern Ireland. It’s a beautiful green on the edge of the cliffs, the rough ocean waters behind it and a wall of clouds in the sky. No blue sky anywhere. Just grey.

Then I looked out my office window.

The similarity of my view of Seattle was uncanny.

A wall of clouds in the sky hanging over Lake Union.

August is supposed to be the good month. It's not suppossed to look like this...It's bad enough we get this crap all fall/winter/spring...


I don’t want to look at that picture for the whole month of September. At least next month I will be able to look at a sunny picture of a course in North Carolina.

What was the big burning ball in the sky yesterday?

For that true Seattle experience, try this:

Take a sheet of gray paper. Could be dark grey or light grey, really doesn’t matter.

Put that sheet of paper in front of your face so that’s all you see.

For two weeks.

Then remove it for five minutes (if there is sunshine that’s an added plus).

Then put the grey sheet in front of your eyes again.

Repeat.

----

I say this because for the past two weeks it has been gray and gross out the window and then finally the sun came out yesterday afternoon! Everybody seemed very happy about it, saying "what a beautiful day!" as if that erased all the crappy days before it. Of course this weather didn't last long and it was back to the dreary old gray canvas the following morning.

But I'm like, people, c'mon...it's mid-JUNE!!! The sun showing its face for a copule of hours is literally the least that it can do. How about sunshine for an entire day? Is that too much to ask? The rest of the country has been having outdoor bbq's for a month already.

Which is why I’m looking forward to our much-needed vacation. We are driving down south, going to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. We’re going to see Our Town, A Midsummer Night’s Dream and a new play by Jeff Whitty called The Further Adventures of Hedda Gabler (which is where that photo comes from).



I just love the logline: Does she need a bigger gun or a better author?

Nice.

Then it’s off to visit the family in Nevada. I’m looking forward to it (despite just reading the nightmare family that lives in the play August: Osage County).

But the weather there will be sunny and 80 degrees.

Every day.

Like the exact opposite of weather in Seattle.

And my golf shots will go farther because of the altitude. Gotta love that.

The desert never seemed so welcoming.

Pitch 'n' Putt with Joyce 'n' Beckett

I love this video. I have rediscovered it and must share...for all its glorious Irishness and literary-ness. And for lines like, "I love those little pencils, small, like the first pencils..."

WARNING: Some harsh language and literary allusions.

Rite of Passage

Today I am truly a golfer.

It SNOWED today while I was playing.

Okay, it didn't look like this picture. And actually it HAILED first for a bit, then stopped for a few minutes before the snow came down.

Then the sun came out.

Then it hailed again.

Then the sun came out only briefly.

And then it snowed.

And then it got really cold.

But I played my 18 hole round, regardless. And you know what? I played that course better than ever.

Thank you very much.

Beware the Ides of...April...

It is snowing.

Out the window.

Right now.

*(This is an actual photo from our window taken only fifteen minutes ago)

All I can say is...

"What the f--!?"

April truly is the cruelest month...All I want to do is play golf in the sun but the northwest weather is against me.

I don't want to complain, but...okay, I do like to complain. I come from a long heritage of grumpy people. My family can actually pass the time complaining about anything and everything, from bad drivers to bad tv (maybe its the Italian heritage, I don't know). In fact, I have thought that maybe I should devote a whole other blog just for my complaints...and I could call it "Grumpy Young Man". Then no one will have to read my complaints and I can stick to the purpose of the site instead of diverging into grumbling all the time.

Yay or nay?

If you're reading this, weigh in...We wanna know...

To show that I can still find the beauty in all things,





here is the wonderful rug I bought in India...


The dog is not from India...


I don't know where she came from...

Chip Before You Drive

Learning to write is a lot like learning to golf.

Golf is simple in its objective but complex in its execution. What could be easier than hitting a white ball towards a hole? The game is rife with frustration and exhilaration. And it has many paradoxes. For example, it seems like the task of hitting the ball to a pin 400 yards away would be more difficult than if its only 120 yards, but alas, usually it’s the exact opposite. The closer to the hole, the more difficult it gets. In golf, its not distance but accuracy that’s key.

In writing, accuracy is everything. It doesn’t matter how many pages you’ve written—all you need is one good sentence. One good line. Even one good word sometimes. One thing that crystallizes all that you want to say with your piece.

But to learn how to find "le mot juste" (as the French would say) can feel like scoruing the earth for the holy grail. Eventually one masters words in a way that no one else can, just like even the average duffer creates a unique swing.

But it starts with fundamentals. When you learn golf you want to crush the ball 300 yards with your driver. But no one has that innate ability (even Tiger Woods). You have to start with the core fundamentals: grip, stance, setup, balance, and the swing. You have to learn how to hit a 9 iron straight for 50 yards. And then you work your way up with the harder clubs. Finally, you start to work on the driver. Of course, then there’s putting, which is a whole other game.

In the same way, composing a sentence should be the easiest thing in the world, right? Subject, verb. Sometimes a direct object. Any dummy could do it. But it’s the difference between, “My name is Ishmael” and “Call me Ishmael.” They’re both sentences, but one is much tighter and more interesting. One is passive and one is active (telling v. showing). One hints at a story. That’s what we want, any words that help our story. And eliminate any clutter.

In writing a play or screenplay, most people think they’ve got a Broadway musical or two-act play in every idea. That’s not always the case. Sometimes it’s best to start out with a ten-minute or even a five-minute play. If you really do have a big idea with characters that can hold an audience for more than an hour, maybe its best just to go scene by scene, even if its only a page or two, here and there. Concentrate on the small chunks. It takes awhile to see the big picture, to put the scenes together. In this way, it’s like the golf game. You learn a few different shots, long and short. When you go out on the course is when you start putting them together. First you look at things hole by hole. Eventually, you can see the layout of all 18 holes and how you have to play each one. And that makes the game.

So writing is like a game. It should be fun and you should learn the fundamentals before trying the advanced stuff. So what’s the advanced stuff? What separates the pros from the amateurs? Rewriting.

In golf, you want to get to the hole in as few strokes as possible. In writing, you want to use as few words as possible. So you grab some scissors and you cut, cut, cut out all the repetition and unnecessary words. (This is the philosophy of Occam’s razar) When you’re done cutting, you do some rewriting. Maybe you’ll add some more words, maybe you’ll cut some. It’s never-ending and quite maddening. You’re searching for "le mot juste". Sometimes you find it hidden in the dark crevices of your mind and sometimes it eludes you. Just like a golf pro putting for hours on the green trying to nail that twenty foot putt, you can spend hours on a few words. That’s the difference.

Someone once told me, “if you want to play better golf, go back in time and start when you’re five years old.” That’s how long it takes to get good. Why would writing be any different?