Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Up, Up, and Away!

What's better than a carriage tour of Charleston, SC? 

Downtown Charleston
How about a flying tour of Charleston, SC?

I received a gift certificate to go flying from my brother a couple of months ago to take a flying tour over Charleston.  I just redeemed the coupon last Thursday and took a flight over Charleston.  My brother didn't want to go up, so I took a friend. You can see some of his photos from the flight at Chuckography.

Chuck and Me
The flight was operated by Flying High Over Charleston. The plane was a Cessna 172, a four seat, high wing single engine aircraft. We taxied from the executive side of the Charleston International Airport taking off on runway 33. 
 
The skies were clear, with only a few clouds, it was slightly breezy and a comfortable 82 degrees. Great weather for flying, even better for photographs!

Arthur Ravenel Bridge
 
Riverdogs Stadium
The flight lasted about 70 minutes total.  In that time, we flew over downtown Charleston, along the Arthur Ravenel bridge, across Ft. Sumter, and along the beaches from Dunes West down to Kiawah.

Our cruising altitude was around 1200 feet and we sped along at about 96 knots or 110 mph.  It definitely didn't seem that fast from our perspective.

We finally headed back to Charleston International Airport and our pilot brought us down for a very smooth landing.

Four Corners of Law
Seeing Charleston from the air was an excellent experience.  I would recommend this flight to anyone if you ever get the chance.  If you do, send me a message and let me know how it was.
 
Ft. Sumter

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Don't Even Think of Parking Here

Earlier this year, I had the opportunity to join a writing salon offered by the Charleston Library Society.  Now, what exactly is a writing salon?  Well, it's simply a relaxed writing class. Leading this class was Bret Lott, author of Jewel, an Oprah's Book Club selection which was also made into a movie. The ten-week salon was wonderful.

We were given weekly writing projects that were critiqued by Bret and our fellow salon attendees.  The following is the first page of a story I was required to write.  The only instruction for this story was it had to start with the following phrase: "Don't even think of parking here."  (Please note: this is a work of fiction)

“Don’t even think of parking here!”

I just stared at Pete.  Nothing has really changed since Woodbridge High School.  The jocks are still jocks, the nerds are still nerds, and the bullies are still bullies.  Pete, well, he’s still an asshole.

“Well, you gonna move it, or do you want me to yank you out of that piece of crap and move it myself?” His face contorted as he spoke and he looked like a snarling pig.  I almost laughed.  Back at Woodbridge High, I made the mistake of laughing at that face once.  That earned me a couple of days at home; let’s just call it therapeutic rehabilitation.

"If you’re feeling froggy, jump!"  That’s what I wanted to say.  Instead, I reverted into timid high school student Dave.  Don’t make waves Dave.  That was me.

“Yeah, whatever,” I said softly, trying to sound casual and untroubled.  Who knew what my face looked like; I was hoping it was an ocean of serene unconcern.  I put the car in reverse and rolled back slowly.  Since I wasn’t fully in the parking space, I only had to back up a couple of yards.


Pete revved up the throttle of the motorcycle he was sitting on.  A loud roar escaped from the tailpipes.  His way of saying hurry up and move.  I purposely took the most time I thought I could get away with.  The motorcycle thrummed as it waited; a guttural growl continually escaping its chrome pipes, a hungry beast waiting for me to make a mistake.  I drove the car slowly past Pete in a show of defiance.  I wasn’t scared of him or his beast.

As I walked the two blocks to the office, I thought about high school.  I was the guy that was always in the background of all the year book photos.  I was never really in the photos, just a part of the background.  The only photos that did have my name under were the individual shots for each grade.  Dave Adam Smith written under each picture.

I like to think that I had changed since then.  Not to become the life of the party or anything, but that I was not the same, insignificant, backgrounder.  I have a wonderful girlfriend, close friends, a good job, and get along great with my coworkers.  I’m very happy and pleased with where I’m at and what’s happening in my life.

So why do I revert back to that insignificant backgrounder every time I encounter Pete?  I’ve had a couple of run-ins with him over the last six months and each time, I become a scrawny, timid fifteen year old kid.
*

(please note: this is a work of fiction)

I hope you enjoyed that preview and want to read more.  Maybe I'll post all of it out on the web and provide a link to it from here.

* Bullies are not limited to children, teens, or the school yard.  There are adult bullies in the world as well.  If you know of someone being bullied or you are being bullied, please seek out help and don't give up hope!

Saturday, October 9, 2010

NaNoWriMo

November is NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month.  One month of writing joy or hell.  In that month, you commit to writing at least 1700 words per day every day of the month.  The goal is to have a small novella of approximately 50,000 words finished by November 30th.  As I stated above, this can be pure joy or this can be unadulterated hell.  It's usually a mix of the two.  Some days are a delight to sit and quietly produce 1500 words while other days it is torturous to try and pull out even ten words that make sense.

There are no themes or guidelines to direct what you write.  The story is created as you go along.  Some writers spend time producing outlines and character studies prior to the month of November, while others dive blindly into the task not knowing what is going to be produced or where it will go.

For some, the idea of blindly falling into creation will seem pure abject horror.  To compose a story on the go with little thought to the ideas, text, characters or mood is a task in itself.  Sitting and staring at a blank screen and expecting to come up with something that is halfway decent will be a daunting task, even for many accomplished writers, but a task that will prove as adventurous as jumping off a cliff with little more than a 60 pound giant kite strapped to your back and hope that physics, dynamics and lift all behave as they are supposed to. 

But isn't that the same thing that a writer will do to his character?  The writer says, “Let me take an average Joe and thrust fate upon him to become the hero we so desperately wish him to be.”  Joe, a normal accountant, is used to working nine to five on the fifth floor of Barney and Chesterton.  Every day he manipulates numbers on spreadsheets and produces results that are fed to the directors on the seventh floor.  That is until the writer shows up and decides that Joe's life is exceedingly boring and he needs a little excitement to break him out of this dull and dreary existence and awaken him to life. 

Enter deadly, blind, zombie ninjas bent on taking over all ten floors of Barney and Chesterton.  Joe is not asked to make the decision to become a hero, but forced by the hand of fate to take up the mantle and successfully defend his co-workers, thus ending his dull and dreary existence and becoming the fully self-realized hero that he should be.  Poor Joe.  What a mean and cruel beast fate, I mean, writers can be.

But that is exactly what you are asked to volunteer to do for the month of November.  Put aside your dreary writing life full of outlines, deadlines, characterizations and punctuations and take up the mantle to become the writing hero you were always destined to be.

With little thought to carpal tunnel syndrome, you are tasked with slaving over a keyboard with lukewarm coffee sitting at your side accompanied by a bagel with only one bite taken out of it.  With the sacrifice of hot coffee to warm and guide you, you blindly type hoping the next word entered onto the screen before you will inspire you to continue to the next, in an effort to produce a story worthy of Steinbeck in less time than he crafted The Grapes of Wrath.   (That would have been about 100 days.)

We would all imagine that as we take up the sword of writing and begin to swing we could craft a story arc that would rival J.R.R. Tolkien, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway or George Eliot.  That our story would become legendary among all who will read it.  That our prose will be reminiscent of those that we admire, Dorothea Benton-Frank, Terry Brooks and Stephen King.

Alas, the true hope is that our stories will at least make sense and don’t end up in the annals of embarrassment like Brian Griffin’s Faster than the Speed of Love.


I’m looking forward to November to see what kind of writing chops I might have and hope that I don’t cower in fear and defeat after only finishing two pages while wishing I had never attempted to be the writing hero.

For more information on NaNoWriMo, please go to http://www.nanowrimo.org