It’s beginning to look a lot like…

Reports of snow in Texas started coming in yesterday evening. I saw comments on social media from Laredo, Austin and San Antonio. The forecasters said we might get flurries in the Greater Houston area, and when I went to bed the precipitation was decidedly thick. Sleet, at the very least, but it wasn’t accumulating.

So imagine my surprise when I looked out the back window at 5:00 am and saw: a very confused and irate possum. Oh, yeah, and snow all over the ground and trees.

For perspective, the fence behind it is six feet tall and that big black thing to the right, with the snow all over it, is our gas barbecue. This possum was big! At least as large as a cat.

I took a few pictures then went up to my office to work for a couple of hours. I looked out the window later, after the sun was up, and realized how beautiful it looked outside, so I went out and snapped some pictures.

The ground was warm enough to melt the snow, but it was still 32° out, so the snow stayed on the trees and bushes. The grandson of our neighbor across the street built a little snowman. Overpasses and bridges froze, so there were plenty of accidents in the area. No one around here knows how to drive in the winter. School openings were delayed to give the roads a chance to clear. Surprisingly, by mid-morning, there was still snow on the trees and car rooftops. No doubt it will all be gone soon enough, but it was a pleasant surprise. Alas, there’s no way to hold onto it for Christmas, when family arrives for vacation.

My binge viewing this week was the new German series on Netflix, Dark. Some people are referring to it as Darker Things, and there are a few comparisons to be drawn to Stranger Things, but it is very much its own thing. As much as I liked the Duffer Brothers’ series (and I liked it a lot), I think I liked this one even more. I never knew what was coming next (although I did guess one of the major mysteries early on). Other comparisons have been made to Twin Peaks, but it’s not quite that weird, and to Lost, which I think has merit. I see a strong connection to 11/22/63. It takes place in 2019 in a small German village that benefited from the building of the first nuclear power plant in Germany in 1960. That plant is about to be decommissioned. A boy has been missing for nearly two weeks and by the end of the first episode another one will disappear. There are ties to events from 33 years earlier (and, ultimately, to 33 years before that). It’s a creepy mystery with dead sheep and mutilated bodies and plummeting birds.

The default play mode on Netflix is to overdub the audio with English voices, but that is terrible, in my opinion. Play around with your settings and switch to German audio (not German descriptions, which is also an option) and English subtitles for a far better viewing experience. My biggest problem with the series was the fact that there’s a very large cast of completely unfamiliar actors, and some characters appear as younger versions of themselves played by different actors. The director takes some steps to help viewers link up who is who, but it can still get somewhat confusing. I feel like I need to watch it all over again, now that I’m more familiar with the characters.

That past influences the future, but the future also influences the past. It’s cleverly constructed and they obviously knew the ending when they started or else none of it would hold together. I have no doubt it will get picked up for a second season, and I cannot wait.

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Lady Bird

I don’t often have a hard time naming short stories, but the one I just finished is giving me fits. Often I have the title before I start writing, but something usually comes to me during the writing process. Not with this one. I wrote it longhand, dictated it into the computer this morning and made one complete proofing pass on it and so far, nada. The story is due on Thursday, so I’m hoping inspiration will strike. I do have something to fall back on, but I don’t like it very much.

The weather was really nice here in Southeast Texas for the four-day weekend. Unseasonably warm. We were able to dine outside a couple of times and hang out in a driveway with a glass of wine a couple of others. On Sunday we went over to Market Street (I got the show time wrong, so we had the better part of an hour to kill) and stroll around the park, watching all the families with little kids enjoying the warm weather, too. We saw Lady Bird, starring Saoirse Ronan and Laurie Metcalf as daughter and mother. The story takes place during Ronan’s character’s senior year in Sacramento, California. She attends a Catholic school and is determined to go somewhere interesting on the east coast for university, although her grades and the family finances limit her possibilities. She’s a bit of a wild child, and has a lot of conflict with her mother, while her father is a calm, stabilizing influence, despite his own issues. It’s warm and witty and pretty funny at times. My favorite bit was when the school coach is enlisted to take over directing The Tempest and he uses a blackboard and football strategy to block out the play. The movie has the feel of a letter from the screenwriter to her own mother. It currently has the best Rotten Tomatoes score of all time: 100% from over 160 reviews.

We saw a rather bizarre movie on Saturday evening. Capturing Mary stars Maggie Smith and Ruth Wilson (Luther, The Affair), who plays the younger version of Smith’s character. Smith stumbles into an old mansion in NY, maintained by a young caretaker, and proceeds to tell him about her misadventures there as a young woman. She met up with a mysterious man played by David Walliams who, to me, was an avatar of doubt. He liked to go around to famous people at parties and say things to them that seemed complimentary at first but ended up coming off as back-handed. He unsettles Wilson’s character’s by telling her some terrible secrets about people he’s learned over the years, and the phrase “living rent free in her head” comes to mind. He manages to destroy all of her confidence and her promising career as a writer fizzles. Apparently part of a loose trilogy of films. We weren’t quite sure what to make of it when it was over.

We’re almost to the end of Longmire. Just one episode left to go in the final season. There was one monumental surprise involving a semi-major character about halfway through the season, and one character from Season 4 is getting a chance to redeem himself. We’ll be sorry to see it come to an end.

On a whim I decided to reread Murder on the Orient Express last weekend. I couldn’t tell you when I last read it. Maybe as much as 30 years ago. It holds up remarkably well. It’s a fast read, but it’s fun to see how Christie lays out the clues and the red herrings so deftly. It’s an amazingly well plotted story despite how convoluted and unlikely it is.

I also read A Legacy of Spies, the most recent by John le Carré, which takes an aging, retired spy back to some of Smiley’s most infamous cases. Also recently IQ by Joe Ide, which has a strong Walter Mosely vibe. Winner of the Edgar for Best Debut Novel.  And Damaged by Pamela Callow, which is set in my old stomping grounds of Halifax, Nova Scotia, which added a layer of interest for me.

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Weekends are for Murder

Сияние в мрака, the Bulgarian translation of the anthology Shining in the Dark, containing my story “Aeliana,” was published today. This is the first time one of my stories has debuted in a foreign language. The English edition is forthcoming, as is an Italian translation, and perhaps more, too.

The first grown-up movie I ever saw in a theatre was the 1974 version of Murder on the Orient Express, starring Albert Finney as Poirot. This was at the Capitol Theatre in Dalhousie, New Brunswick. I was 13. After cutting my teeth on the Hardy boys, I was in the midst of an Agatha Christie binge when the film came out. I don’t think I’ve seen it again since then, but my memory of it was that Finney disappointed me as Poirot. I far preferred David Suchet, from the BBC TV series.

I saw the new version, directed by Kenneth Branagh, this weekend, and I was impressed by it. Branagh manages to disappear into the role to the point where I seldom marveled that it was Branagh playing Poirot. His mustaches were legendary and his peculiar mannerisms handled in earnest. I thought the film was a tad over-directed, with stunt-angled camera shots that didn’t lend much to the picture, and there were a couple of times when the score seemed at conflict with what was happening on the screen at the moment, but on the whole I thought it was very well done. I wonder how many people who went to see it had no idea of the mystery’s solution. The cast was terrific—I was especially impressed by Daisy Ridley—and, all in all, a fine film. The teaser for Death on the Nile at the end was encouraging, too.

In keeping with the weekend’s theme, I embarked on a journey through The Midsomer Murders on Netflix. I’ve never seen an episode before, so I didn’t know exactly what to expect. Because they’re based on a series of novels, the characters are fully realized from the first scene. They’re serious who/how-dunnits, but they have a light touch, too. The DCI’s wife can’t cook, although she thinks she can and regularly attempts recipes from Delia Smith and other gourmands. That’s a running joke. The episode where the DCI has a couple of edible marijuana cakes without realizing it is pretty funny, too. Colin Firth shows up in the final episode of the first season, but is dead almost before the opening credits. I also recognized Sonia Walger, who played Penny on Lost, who has a 30-second scene as a local journalist in one episode. I’m quite enjoying them: I watched six over the course of two days, and they’re about 100 minutes each.

I did try The Punisher, but I guess I wasn’t in the right mood for that show. I only lasted fifteen minutes into the first episode. A lot of my friends are raving about it, so I’ll probably give it a second chance at some point. I’m also enjoying The Orville, although I have no idea how on earth this show is being made without being sued for plagiarism. It’s not nearly as funny as I expected it to be (I thought it would be more in the vein of Galaxy Quest, but it’s not in that league at all), and what little humor there is mostly falls flat for me. My favorite character so far is Lieutenant Alara Kitan, who plays it virtually straight. The most recent episode, which showcased her character, was really quite good.

I met Alexander McCall Smith at Murder by the Book the weekend before last. I’ve been reading his books to my wife ever since we first saw The No.1 Ladies’ Detective Agency miniseries on HBO. He was only scheduled to sign at the store, but he decided at the last minute to talk and he entertained us for nearly 30 minutes, followed by a Q&A session. He’s quite a storyteller. He spun out a shaggy dog story about being forced to rent a bulldozer in Italy when his original reservation was canceled and all cars were hired out due to it being a holiday weekend. It was almost a credible tale, but during the Q&A someone asked how fast a bulldozer could go and Smith grinned, saying, “That’s the sort of detail that I would probably know, if the story were true!”

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Mr. Blue Sky

How long does it take to find a market for a short story? As long as it takes. Most short stories don’t have a shelf life. If you don’t find a market for it after X months or years, it doesn’t go bad. I’ve published any number of stories that were submitted many, many (many) times.

A story I wrote shortly after the massive blackout in the northwest United States in 2003 has finally found a home. My submission list on it reveals probably a dozen outings, maybe more. It’s a bit of an oddity in that it’s only a little over 1000 words, so a tad short for most markets. Glad to discover this morning that it will see the light of day. More news to follow.

I also found out this morning that I won a Limited Edition Stephen Gervais Christine print on Twitter, thanks to the folks at @ChristineMovieCar. Pretty cool. It’s one of my favorite limited edition covers. The project of reproducing the cover art to King’s books was initiated by Suntup Editions.

I turned in the essay I was commissioned to do recently. It wasn’t due until the end of the year, but I got it finished over the weekend and am awaiting the editor’s feedback. It was a fun one to write, and the pay is terrific!

ELO is high up the list of bands I never thought I’d get a chance to see in concert, but that’s about to change. Their North American tour was announced last week and I was able to get tickets during the pre-order period this morning. The concert isn’t until next August—I think that’s the farthest in advance I’ve ever purchased tickets.

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This is my 22nd wedding anniversary. As it happens, this year has the same calendar as 1995—it was a Friday afternoon when we went over to the courthouse and joined the queue of people who were there primarily to pay traffic tickets and other fines. “You guys got the best deal,” one young man told us when we announced we were there to get married. The Justice of the Peace put on her robe over her civilian clothes and conducted the wedding in her chambers. She also took the wedding photo on one of those disposable cardboard cameras that were so prevalent back then. No iPhones! We learned just this week that the J.P. will be retiring next year after 32 years on the bench.

I won’t be making it to New England Crime Bake this weekend. The only time I went to the mystery writers’ conference was in 2010, when I was the recipient of the Al Blanchard Award. I couldn’t tell anyone why I was there, though, until the banquet, because the identity of the winner was to be a surprise. So I had to make up excuses for why I’d flown all the way from Texas for a New England-centric conference. This year, as always, Level Best Books will be launching the latest in a long line of annual anthologies: Snowbound: Best New England Crime Stories, which contains my new story “Sticky Business,” featuring the same gang of ne’er-do-wells that were in my 2010 story “The Bank Job.” The physical book is available for pre-order now, and it will debut tomorrow, I believe, or Sunday at the convention. Not sure about eBooks yet.

My story “Aeliana,” included in Shining in the Dark from Cemetery Dance Publications, will be translated into Italian for a version of the anthology from Independent Legions. A Bulgarian translation was previously announced and will likely be the first version of the anthology published.

I installed an SSL security certificate on my website last week, so you may notice a switch over from http to https: and (hopefully) a little secure lock. I had to clean up some pages to satisfy the security—some of my older blog entries probably have some insecure internal links, but all the pages should pass muster.

I was sorry to hear about the death of Paul Buckmaster, whose orchestrations have appeared on numerous albums, including those from Elton John and David Bowie. I had been introducing his work to my wife just a few weeks ago and we listened to some of those very early EJ albums, where lush strings virtually defined so many of those songs.

Last weekend, I watched all six episodes of Alias Grace, based on the Margaret Atwood novel. It stars Sarah Gadon (from 11/22/63) as well as Paul Gross (Due South, Men with Brooms) and Anna Paquin, as well as featuring the occasional appearance of David Cronenberg. The story was adapted by Sarah Polley, well-known to Canadians from Road to Avonlea. The miniseries has an Anne of Green Gables aura about it, but it also made me think of Mindhunters in that it deals with a psychiatrist interviewing a convicted killer. In a sense, the story is about the stories people tell—different ones in different circumstances, depending upon to whom the story is being told. Stories we tell ourselves to make us feel better about incidents, or to serve the needs of others. It’s inspired by a historical incident in which two servants were convicted of murder.

A funny vignette from last weekend. It was mild out, so I had a mid-afternoon lunch/dinner at a nearby restaurant while I read. The table next to me had four young women who I learned through their conversation were teenage lifeguards. At one point they discussed how they wanted to be disposed of upon death (burial, cremation, etc.) and one of them suggested that she’d like to be preserved by taxidermy. “They can stuff bears, and they’re bigger than a person, so why not?” she asked. Funny people.

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Are you Shpongled?

We didn’t expect to have (m)any trick or treaters last night because it was raining so hard from about 4 pm on, but a number of intrepid, costumed souls did make it. We probably had to go to the door six or seven times, and we gave out candy by the handfuls when we did. Little kids taking one or two pieces…we’re like, no…take all of this! Take it all! We closed up shop at around 8:00.

Last weekend, my wife was working two long shifts in Galveston (up and away by 4:30 am, back at 9 pm), so I binged my way through Stranger Things 2 in a single day. I liked the evolution of the series, although I did find episode 7, the standalone Kali episode, something of a mis-step. It felt like it would have been more at home in Orphan Black. Hank Wagner and I are going to do one of our tag-team reviews of the second season for Dead Reckonings, once Hank catches up. I was describing the series to my wife and she seemed intrigued, so we watched the first three episodes of Season 1 last night. I thought it was neat the way Nancy slams a door in Dustin’s face near the beginning of S01E01 and then what happens between them near the end of S02E09. I also watched Beyond Stranger Things, the 7-part after show, which you shouldn’t begin until after finishing Season 2. The kids are hilarious.

I’m also into Season 2 of Chance, starring Hugh Laurie, on Hulu. Now that he doesn’t have Jackie to deal with any more, the plot revolves around a cop who is coercing him into going after a bad guy, and the aforementioned bad guy. I really like the character known as D. He’s awesome.

Though I thoroughly enjoy writing fiction, it’s hard to beat non-fiction in terms of payment. I was approached this week to write a 2500-word essay and offered an amount that would require me to write six-to-eight short stories to match it, and the stories would probably be longer and would take more time, each. So of course I said yes.

My other super-secret project is coming together faster than expected. It’s really cool.

The new album from Shpongle, Codex VI, is now out. They’re one of my favorite groups to listen to while I write. It’s trippy, psychedelic techno. Check it out.

Over the weekend, I also posted a couple of book reviews: Violent Mind: The 1976 Psychological Assessment of Ted Bundy by Al Carlisle and Seventh Decimate (The Great God’s War) by Stephen R. Donaldson. The former is interesting in that Dr. Carlisle was part of a team performing a 90-day psychological evaluation on Bundy at a time when he’d been convicted of aggravated kidnapping but no one knew the extent of his crimes or his psychosis. The serial killers in Mindhuter were known, confessed killers, but here was a guy who was trying to hide his true nature from psychiatrists and psychologists. Not so successfully, as it turns out. The latter was the somewhat disappointing first novel in a trilogy from the author of the Chronicles of Thomas Covenant. Donaldson specializes in unlikable protagonists.

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The Halloween Tree is in full bloom today

My new short story “The Halloween Tree,” inspired by the Halloweens of my youth and a scary tree that lurked over the roadside near where I grew up, is available today in Volume Four of Halloween Carnival, the anthology of stories edited by Brian Freeman that is being released throughout October. You can see the other contributors on the cover. Eventually the five parts will be assembled into a single book.

Also out today is my review of the Netflix original movie 1922, which premiered on Friday.

Whenever we send a package to our daughter and son-in-law in Japan, we like to add things we know they’d enjoy. Cereals, spice packets, clothing items for our grand-daughter, etc. Turns out maybe that’s not a great idea. We sent our son-in-law a birthday present along with some of the aforementioned. The parcel weighed 19 lbs when it was delivered to the UPS Store via USPS and 12 lbs when it arrived in Okinawa. Two items were missing from the still-sealed box: the electronic game components intended for his birthday. I figure if we had shipped them without the other material, it would have been harder for someone to steal them, because a 7 lb box that suddenly weighed 0 lbs would have been more conspicuous. Lessons learned.

I watched Season 2 of Top of the Lake this weekend. Directed by Jane Campion and starring Elizabeth Moss, along with Nicole Kidman (in probably her least sympathetic role ever) and Gwendoline Christie (more familiar to many as Brianne of Tarth from Game of Thrones) as a statuesque Sydney police officer. It also features a guy who looks eerily like a young Charles Manson, with many of the same attributes. Moss is the only returning character from Season 1, and she’s still having to deal with some of the events from four years earlier. The story features a sex worker stuffed into a suitcase and the daughter Moss’s character gave up for adoption seventeen years ago.

This morning I started Chance on Hulu, the series starring Hugh Laurie as a consulting neuropsychiatrist in the middle of a divorce. He meets a beefy, strong silent type (called “D”) who doesn’t mind a bit of violence to set things in the world a-right, and Gretchen Mol as the abused wife of an SFPD police officer who claims to have a dual personality. When Chance learns how D resolved a robbery at their store and says later that “shit like that makes my day,” Chance muses that he knows a lot of people who could use that kind of treatment, which piques D’s interest. He is tempted to take a walk on the dark side. I like what I’ve seen so far.

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Hip to be Tragic

Time for a Tragically Hip listening marathon. I wasn’t living in Canada any more when they burst onto the scene, so it’s only been during the past few years that I’ve caught up with their discography, but they’ve become one of my go-to bands to listen to while writing. Sad to hear that Gord Downie succumbed to his illness. It’s a day of national morning north of the 49th parallel.

I sent a manuscript today to my collaborator for a project that I hope will see print next year. It’s breaking new ground for me, and the first few months of 2018 could prove interesting as I flounder around in unfamiliar waters, hoping I don’t mess things up. I can’t really say anything more about the project, but it is really, really cool.

I like Olivia Wilde a lot, and have always admired Sam Rockwell, so we queued up Better Living Through Chemistry this weekend. We quit by mutual consent after about 30 minutes. Michelle Monaghan plays an absolute shrew and Rockwell is milquetoast. Wilde is a trophy wife who seduces Rockwell, probably because she wants him to murder her husband. I’m not quite sure…we didn’t get that far. In retrospect, the abysmal Rotten Tomatoes score should have been a hint or, more to the point, the total box office take of $75,000. No, there’s not decimal place or two missing there. The movie is really, really stupid. Tragically stupid.

I’m still not sure why Jane Fonda was narrating it. We never did discover how she figure into the story. We gave the movie a shot because it appeared as one of those “people who liked this also liked that…” teasers. We’d started with the new Netflix movie Our Souls at Night, which we’d seen an ad for on the back of our AARP magazine (yes, I know, but still…). It stars Fonda as a widow who invites her neighbor (Robert Redford) to sleep with her…but not in that way. Just spend the night in the same bed, because the nights are the loneliest times. It’s a small town, so rumors start spreading, of course. It’s a charming story that features Bruce Dern in a bit role and Judy Greer as Redford’s daughter.

That led us to Peace, Love…and Misunderstanding, which we realized after about 15 minutes we’d seen before, but we finished it off. Fonda is the hippy mom living in Woodstock who is visited by her daughter and two teenage grandkids (including Elizabeth Olsen). Another fun flick. Then I commented that I’d never seen On Golden Pond, so that was a blast from the past. The film was nothing like what I expected: I thought it would be somber and confrontational and dramatic, when it’s actually quite light and funny. It looks a bit like a made-for-TV movie by modern standards, and it features a terribly invasive score, but it’s charming. Hepburn is terrific (and she did all her own stunts, including an impressive dive into the lake). Seeing Jane Fonda 35 years younger was a bit of a shock, and it was the last thing her father did before he died the following year.

I binged through the new Netflix series Mindhunter, based on the book about the formation of the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI. The 10-episode series dramatizes events, and it’s not exactly fast-paced, but it is thrilling and fascinating. The two main characters are vastly different types: one looks like he should be rough and tough, but he’s actually sensitive, cautious and smart, whereas the new kid on the block, who starts out looking sensitive and clever turns out to be ruthless and a little scary. Anna Torv from Fringe comes in at Episode 3 as a university professor who manages to scare up some federal funding for their research, which consists of interviewing serial killers in prison (the term doesn’t even exist at that point, nor do any of the other terms that we who watch crime shows all know by now). The guy who plays Ed Kemper is chilling, just enough degrees away from normal to be disturbing as he casually describes the horrific things he did to his victims. There’s an interesting bit featuring BTK before the creepy credits of most episodes (subliminal flashes are very disturbing!) that helps put the story into temporal context. I’m definitely on board for Season 2.

I also got caught up with the first three episodes of the new season of The Exorcist. It looks like the central story is going to be about this foster father who has a big house on an island in Washington State, where he looks after a bunch of teenagers (mostly) who have various issues (one is blind, one seems mildly autistic, the youngest seems agoraphobic). His wife committed suicide fairly recently (maybe), and there’s something strange happening…but whether it’s external to the house (something in the woods) or internal (one of the kids, or even the visiting social worker) remains to be seen. There’s a parallel story that involves the infiltration of the Catholic church by humans who have been infused with evil spirits (creepy, creepy eyes with extra pupils), and an effort by a couple of people to eradicate them–that’s less interesting to me so far. The Munchausen by proxy episode was particularly good.

Maria Bello joins NCIS. That’s interesting. It’s always good when Gibbs has someone to spar with who can give as good as (s)he gets. I also watched Annihilation, Patton Oswalt’s new comedy show on Netflix. In an hour, he goes from political to personal to one of the funniest movie pitch sessions I’ve ever heard. I don’t watch much stand-up comedy, but this was well worth the hour spent.

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Surfside Beach

The gulf coast is less than two hours from where we live, but it feels like going to a different country. Every so often—maybe once a year—we rent a place in Surfside to get away from it all. We spent the last four days enjoying the sun and the tide.

This time was a little bit different because it was more than just the two of us. My wife’s family has a regular reunion, and this year it happened at Surfside. We ate some good meals, had a lot of margaritas and beer, and soaked up some rays. This was the view from our balcony in one direction:

and this was the view in the other.

We had the full benefit of the Harvest Moon, which rose before us on Thursday evening, and the balcony faces almost due east, so we were treated to a nice sunrise every morning. We took quite a few walks on the beach, and some in the group played in the water, although the tide was running high and there were rip tides further out, so caution was required.

One night during our walk, we passed a truck that was bogged down in the sand. It was clear to us that alcohol was involved. We were surprised the next morning to see that they had somehow rescued it.

However, the main event took place on Sunday afternoon. We were on the patio of the bar that you can see in the top photo when we noticed a truck in trouble. The truck had backed in with a trailer to extricate a couple of jet skis from the water and it got bogged down. A while later we looked back to find out another truck in a similar situation. So, nosey Parkers that we are, we went down to find out all the details.

Turns out the guy in the dark truck volunteered to help his friends out with their jet skis. They attached the trailer but were having a hard time setting the locking pin. He called out for them to forget about it until he pulled the trailer out of the water, but they either didn’t hear or they ignored him and they continued to fritter around with the pin. The tide was coming in and soon the truck’s rear tires were spinning. Then something snapped, and that was that.

A friend driving a big white truck (NOT the one in the picture above) tried to pull the dark truck free and failed. Another guy (with a smaller truck) decided to have a go. End result:  a few minutes later he was stuck, too. We saw geysers of sandy water shooting up in the air as his tires spun. The water was so high around the dark truck by then that the driver had to climb out the window. If he’d opened the door, it would have flooded the cab. The chassis was resting on the sand, and the tide wouldn’t be at its highest point for another few hours.

A guy with a jeep and a nylon cord on a winch thought he’d try to pull the white truck out, but he didn’t understand the laws of physics and, well, that didn’t work out at all. A Surfside police officer arrived on the scene. At first she seemed fairly dour, but she lightened up after a while and the whole incident ended up being pretty amusing. She left her truck idling and my wife’s uncle heard it making a sound. He recommended a course of action and soon they were attempting to diagnose the problem. Someone in the group wanted to capture the moment, so she took out her camera. “Are you taking my picture?” the cop asked. “Wait a minute,” she said…at which point she pretended to be arresting my wife’s uncle for the photograph!

Vehicles get stuck in the sand at least once a month, she said. “But this is the first time in a long time where the drivers weren’t drunk.” She said Cecil was coming. Who’s Cecil, we asked. He’s a guy who knows what to do…and when to give up, she said. Cecil arrived in a huge, camouflage-painted truck with a massive winch, and he started to work on the problem.

Surprisingly, no one seemed terribly upset. The guy in the dark truck was quite nonchalant, and the driver of the white truck said he was planning on getting a new one anyway. A woman who knew one of the drivers said that someone in their group had gotten stuck last weekend, too. “We’ve been on YouTube two weeks in a row,” she said.

One of the fascinating things about situations like this is how it brings people together of all cultures. Everyone had an idea about how to solve the problem, or at least an opinion about whether the current effort would work or not!

It didn’t look like it was going to end quickly or well, and it was really hot out, so we went back to the rental house for a margarita. About 20 minutes later I went up on the upper deck to see how things were progressing and, to my amazement, both trucks had been pulled clear of the water. Cecil to the rescue, although we have no idea how he did it, and especially how he did it so fast. We should have stuck around a little longer.

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Halloween Carnival

October is here at last, and with it the launch of the Cemetery Dance anthology Halloween Carnival, edited by my long-time pal Brian Freeman. The book is coming out digitally in five installments, with a new volume featuring stories from five different authors appearing each Tuesday in October. Volume One is out today. My new story “The Halloween Tree” appears in Volume Four, which will be out on October 24th, although you can, no doubt, pre-order it now, should you feel so inclined.

My review of the Netflix movie Gerald’s Game went up at News from the Dead Zone online today.

I’ve submitted quite a few stories for publication in the past week or so. Here’s hoping some of they stick! A couple of them are brand new stories, and a few are ones that I’ve had in the “waiting to find an appropriate market” queue for a while. One of them was written five years ago and was originally accepted for an anthology, but the book collapsed and I’ve had a hard time finding somewhere else to send it until now, when I found the perfect home for it. Fingers crossed.

I’m also working on a super-secret project that is very exciting, but I can’t say a single word about it, so…well…I won’t! But it is cool. Trust me on that.

We’re into season six of Call the Midwife on Netflix. Last weekend we watched The Big Sick, which was based on a real-life experience by writer and star Kumail Nanjiani and also stars Elia Kazan’s granddaughter, Zoe. He’s a Pakistani stand-up comic who starts dating a white girl while his parents continually try to arrange a traditional marriage for him. When she figures out there’s not much of a chance of a future for them, she breaks up with him but then gets terribly sick and he stays by her side throughout, while trying to navigate a complicated relationship with her parents (Holly Hunter and Ray Romano). The movie has astronomic scores on Rotten Tomatoes, but I thought it was just okay. The culture dynamics were interesting, but there were a lot of awkward pauses and scenes of people trying to be funny without it paying off. I would give it a B.

Then we watched the documentary Score, about the people who write scores for motion pictures. Among those featured: Hans Zimmer, John Williams, Bernard Hermann, Danny Elfman (geez, I had no idea he used to be part of Oingo Boingo!), Howard Shore, Quincy Jones, and many others. It starts with the use of the Wurlitzer organ for silent movies and runs up through people like Trent Reznor scoring Social Network. It does a very good job of showing how much the score contributes to our understanding and, indeed, our memory of movies, and gives us a peek at the creative side of the process. It’s amazing that in many cases, the people in the orchestra never see the music before the moment they start to play together the first time. No rehearsals, just dive right in; they’re real professionals. I liked this a lot, and I would have watched another hour or two of material if it were available.

Terribly sad to hear about Tom Petty. Damn the Torpedoes came out a month after I left home for university and experienced and explosion in the kind of music I was exposed to. Though I had an impressive record collection at that point, my range was fairly narrow. I had every Elton John album, but not a single Beatles album, and I’d never even heard of a lot of the musicians who are my current mainstays, even though they’d been active for years in 1979. “Refugee” was everywhere that first year, and Tom Petty has been a regular go-to guy over the ensuing years. I have all of his albums except the earliest, I think, as well as both Traveling Wilburys albums (some wag said you know a band is hard looking when Tom Petty is the “cute one”). I saw him once in concert, and I’ve also seen Runnin’ Down a Dream, the 4-hour Petty documentary directed by Peter Bogdanovich. It’s currently streaming on Netflix and I think it’s time to take it out for a second spin.

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