Friday, July 13, 2012
I have pancreatic cancer, stage two. Found it by way of a 'lucky' break that almost killed me. My bile duct was blocked and I went severely jaundiced. My INR had shot to a point where some people bleed to death internally. I didn't bleed to death. The jaundice didn't kill me. The CT scan showed a dark spot on my pancreas and that almost scared me to death. The silent killer, it's called, because it often goes beyond the point of intervention before being detected. So, it was a lucky accident for me.
What happened next can only be described as a nightmare. A team of doctors and residents descended on my and my wife, all brimming with the details of how they would help me prepare to die. I am a person of faith in my God and when He calls, I'm ready to go. However, I haven't heard Gabriela's trumpet call, or the fat lady singing, for that matter. So, when the cheery oncologist appeared eager to disseminate statistic of gloomy nature, we ordered her out of the room.
I had lost quite a bit of weight due to my inability to eat regularly, and then an extended stay in the hospital where I got mostly broth and clear liquids for over a week. The weight loss had nothing to do with the cancer, it seems. We hobbled me home and sat in a muddle for days, waiting for some guidance on what to do. Because I'd rejected that original team's sage advice, I was on my own.
Well, not quite. My wife Patricia is a fighter, and she was fighting mad. She began to research what other options I might have available. Her search paid off. Right in Kansas City, a few miles from the other (unnamed) hospital, she found Menorah. And a procedure they call Cyber-knife, a non-invasive high tech form of radiation that shows high success rates for treating cancers.
Short story, she called, they invited us to present our previous records, a team met and discussed my case, and they came up with a protocol for dealing with my cancer.We're now several weeks into the chemo-radiation sequence that will reduce the tumor and make it possible to remove surgically. My scheduled date for surgery is in September. It will keep my in hospital for up to two weeks,, and a slow recovery at home. But, if they are successful, I will be cancer-free and able to stay on the planet a bit longer than Team A (I have a name for that letter but I won't use it here) had predicted.
If they are not successful, at least we tried. No worse than lying in a bed, waiting to die, hoping to die. In the meantime, I am continuing to write and publish as though I have another decade ahead of me. It's the only way I know to live, and I'm content in the knowledge that we're doing everything possible to beat this 'death' sentence.
And that's my message today in a nutshell. If you find yourself in the situation I'm in, get that second opinion unless you're happy with the first one. There are options, and sometimes the 'recognized' cancer center leader is not the leader at all except in a political sense. That was the case in Kansas City. They have a wonderful collection of doctors and specialists whose motto is 'we can beat this thing'. God willing and with their help, I'm going to beat this thing. Cheers, all!
Friday, April 20, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
Did that get your attention? As a longtime educator, I often wondered what will happen to our schools once technology supplies us with viable alternatives to the old three r’s; readin’, ‘ritin’, and ‘rithmetic of the early 20th Century. Well, it’s happened. We’re on the cusp of a revolution in education beyond anything man has known in the past. Today I want to discuss serious issues our children and grand children will face.
At one time cut and dried and tried and true, that famous old 3-R curriculum has ballooned into a mish-mash of social, touchy-feely, gobbledygook most adults couldn’t wade through without a pitchfork. Math has always been an objective field, one that had no gray areas to puzzle over. Now, even math has side issues that call for feeling as well as thinking. Oh, not the real math, but what is being taught in some places. And what do teachers allow in their classes these days? Calculators, well before most kids have a secure grasp on mathematic principles. Is it any wonder we’re slipping in the sciences that are dependent on extremely accurate calculations requiring full understanding? Remember; garbage in, garbage out with calculators. Or with computers.
Got an idea where I’m headed with this? Good. Now let’s look at writing. Once the domain of sticklers for traditional penmanship, I fear that may have gone by the wayside as well. I won a prize in eighth grade for penmanship. It took over fifty years before my handwriting deteriorated to the point one has to look closely to be able to decipher it. If I’d not started all those years ago with a hand so steady it looked like the printed word, my writing would have been just a blur long ago. I understand that many schools have downgraded the need for penmanship because we have the word processor, complete with spell-check, electronic dictionaries, and other built-in writing aids.
So far, it sounds like I’m a dim viewer of things electronic, doesn’t it? Nothing could be further from the truth. I am a dim viewer of lazy teaching. Through my years as a student in elementary, middle grade, high school, college, and post graduate studies, I encountered many fine teachers. Selfless souls who labored mightily to pass along everything they’d learned in an effort to help the next generation move up the learning curve. They worked long hours, in meager surroundings, with measly equipment, and received precious little in monetary reward, all for the belief they’d done their best to help mankind.
From the late fifties into the early nineties, I watched more and more ill-prepared teachers enter the school work force as the older generation dropped by the wayside. Time after time, I saw a group of folks more concerned with their pay, vacations, and benefits, than with the need for a good education for their students.
In my first full year of teaching I made a mistake one day. I had bought a dress shirt that was light blue, like shirts TV anchors wore because the blue looked cleaner than white on a black and white TV screen. My students thought it was cool. My superintendent called me into his office to explain why I could not wear white like the other teachers. And if I’d ever taken my tie off in the classroom, I would have probably been sent home to change. Nowadays, in many schools, the teachers resemble homeless folks, not to demean the homeless. Is it any wonder respect for teachers has vanished in most schools?
Okay, enough of that. I think I’ve at least hinted at an approximation of the state of education in our schools today. Who will ride in on his white charger, wave his white hat, and spur us on to a better day? He’s already here, folks. The same technology that gives us low-cost eReaders and other electronic gear, will soon provide a simple, light-weight, multi-function capability, means of storing a year’s worth of curricula, or more. Bye-bye fifty pound backpacks that are causing physical problems for our students. Hello, a way for the bright student to move at his or her own pace. Bye-bye the classrooms where we all try to get along, because that’s more important than whether we learn anything. Group projects, where the bright student carries the loafers, too.
I could go on and outline my concept of 21st Century academic education for our children, but I prefer to let you put your own imagination to work. When we can give our kids everything they need without darkening the door of a school, why should we continue to subject them to a breeding ground for bullies, lazy intimidators, and a place where the lowest common denominator is not a math principle, but the modus operandi?
Put your thinking caps on, ladies and gentlemen, and dream of a better future for the world of education. You tell me what you envision as the schoolroom of 2025 will look like.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Friday, March 9, 2012
This year has been a very productive one for me, and a very busy one. As I approach the release of my eighth novel since last April, I realize how much time I’ve spent doing the creative and non-creative work of writing, editing, and polishing all those books. While getting that done, I’ve also written two more and finished another two. So, it’s been an exciting but exhausting year.
My recent blogs have been about various aspects of the writing life, and I’ll continue to do that from time to time. Today, however, I want to discuss another topic, my title question. During the year’s activities I outlined above, I’ve also been able to read more than fifty books. Mostly full length novels, they take some time to read. Time well spent, I might add.
Along with a handful of noted authors, much of my reading has been given over to my writing peers. What I’ve read from my fellow authors has been encouraging for the most part. Oh, there were a couple of clunkers in the mix, but for the most part well written novels of various genres. While the world of fiction publishing continues to swirl around the controversy over eBook versus print book, writers plug away at their craft in hopes of turning that craft into art. Some have succeeded and I’d like to highlight books of unusual merit on my blog.
Now for the reason I titled this column with a question; I’d like for you, the readers, to offer your suggestion for the best book you’ve read in a given time period. For our first go at this venture, let’s make it a long time frame. So, for our first forum, send me the title and author of the best book you read in calendar year 2011. Listings will be anonymous and your personal data will not be mentioned or used for any purpose whatsoever.
I plan to follow this format on a monthly basis, starting next month. We’ll discuss the best books we’ve read, beginning with January, 2012. That gives us a three month lead time to have read the books and let our minds digest them. Over time, as this thing grows, I’d like to add a follow-up forum on the best books we’ve chosen; sort of an informal review readers can use when choosing their next book. We’re starting small so we’ll include all fiction genres in our list. As we grow, we’ll be able to separate into different categories of fiction.
For what I hope you will consider incentive, I’m offering an ARC of my next novel, Toccata, a St. Louis Blues Mystery, scheduled for release in May. The winner will be chosen by drawing from a hat the name of someone who sends in their favorite title and author. Send your favorite title/author to me at: firstname.lastname@example.org and I’ll compile the list between now and March 31st.
To summarize, you send your nomination for the best book you read in 2011 to my email address above. I’ll add your name to the others in a hat and at the end of the month, I’ll draw one name for the prize. The first week of April, I’ll publish the list of nominated books for best read of 2011. Other than the random drawing for the prize, nominated books will simply be listed as good reads that our colleagues have recommended.
Help me make this a favorite site for readers to discover their next great book to read. Thanks in advance for doing a service for all our readers. PD
Friday, March 2, 2012
Friday, February 17, 2012
What to keep and what to toss?
Of all the inner battles a writer has to wage, this one gives me the most grief. Early in my career, I felt obligated to toss everything into my opening chapter, including the kitchen sink. Of course, my first editor knew better and counseled me to go for brevity. Actually, a lot of brevity. Taught me the value of the truth that less is more.
Perhaps the main reason I told too much was fear of the dreaded hook. We all know it is vital to hook our readers from the very first sentence, but, gosh how are they going to be hooked if they don’t know the entire history of the main character? Stuff like that. Sorry. That was my feeble attempt at humor. Actually there are all manner of hooks, and the experienced writer loads them into her/his bag of tricks. Hooks are not my subject of choice today but would make a good subject for a future post. Now to get down to it.
Along the way, I had a chance for a few weeks of mentoring by a NYT best-selling author, and she taught me a lot. Interestingly enough, her advice was for me to gather all sorts of peripheral data to flesh out my protagonist before I wrote word one. At her insistence, I went shopping and picked out the kind of pen I’d find on her desk, the style notebook she kept handy, items in her home that she would kill to keep, etc.
I thought at first my mentor was daft. Why did I need to pick the china in her buffet, the clothes in her closet, the time of day she was most vulnerable to a case of the blues. On and on. By the time I’d complied with her instructions, the course was nearly over, and I felt cheated.
But, and this is a dandy, I sifted through all that stuff and, you know what? I suddenly saw my character as human, a person with strengths and weaknesses, passions, hungers, foibles, and aversions, to wit; a real living breathing, suffering, imperfect but lovable person I could write about.
I wrote the book. The final story won’t be written on that book in my lifetime, since I have no way of knowing how it will fare in the competitive world of fiction writing. But I wrote the doggone book and I’m proud of it, one of my best ever.
Now, back to my question. How much of all that periphery did I include? Not very much in terms of straightforward narrative, though understanding what kind of blouse she would wear for a certain occasion, or her favorite song, made her come alive in the pages of my book. So, my advice to fellow authors is, compile a book on your main characters. Don’t be shy, and don’t undershoot. This is your chance for that kitchen sink array.
You’ll ultimately, perhaps with the aid of a good editor, hone it down to the essence of what it is to be alive on God’s green earth. And, no doubt, your editor will give you a sharp paring knife to bring it into shape. I’ve included a partial list below, of the items I catalogued in developing Sera Moreland for my mystery novel, TOCCATA.
Happy reading, all.
Partial List for Sera Moreland, heroine of Toccata:
Leather-bound stationery cover
Grandma Nadine’s silver piano shaped music box that plays Pavanne for a Dead Princess
Grandma’s French set of porcelain
Favorite colors for shirts and blouses, and sweaters: aqua, pastel pink, lavender
Business suits: charcoal and medium gray
Likes: all shades of blue
Dislikes: red (other than her Ferrari)
Extravagances: Luxury autos, Aston-Martin DBS and Ferrari, and Bosendorfer piano
Favorite music: French Impressionists, Debussy and Ravel
Lifestyle: Spartan. No house staff.
Sera is comfortable living alone, her only insecurity a repetitive nightmare stemming from an adolescent sexual encounter.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Yesterday, I posted a blog on the Muse It Up Blogsite, talking about mystery writing and giving a bit of a teaser for the first of my St. Louis Blues Mystery series, TOCCATA, debuting in April.
After it was posted and I'd gotten a few responses, I received my line edits for the book. I'm extracting one example to give you an idea of the difference a few words can make. I am NOT trying to embarrass my editor. I appreciate all she and my other editors have done to further my writing. But I think, when you read this, you'll agree that one's voice can be seriously modified with even a minor shift in verbiage.
There's a reason my blog is titled Pat's Plethora of Poetic Prose. That is what I write, or attempt to write. Because there's a bit of the poet in me, I tend to allow the occasional flow of fancy in my wording. Also, as a life-long musician, rhythm is extremely important to me. Words are made up of syllables, and I use them to create rhythmic prose. Not all the time; that would be boring and eventually cloying.
The first example is the edited version. After posting this, I might have started with the original, so if you want to scroll down, you can read it first. Either way, I think you'll get the point after comparing the two.
Sera felt him deep in the heart of her, pressing them relentlessly onward as their spirits merged. The music pulsed, and he urged, then held her back. It was she who worked, he who set the pace, created the nuance, the power...the exultation!
She sensed their mutual climax approaching as her body trembled with excitement. She could only allow her soul to lift to meet it. Embrace it.
Revel in it!
Her fingers hammered out the final chords of Toccata, and the audience jumped to their feet, applauding wildly. When the piano’s strings had echoed into silence, she stood and faced the standing ovation. Her fantasy lover’s music had triumphed again. Debussy’s music and Sera’s performance — what a sweet coupling!
The crowd vacated Sheldon Concert Hall, she floated to her dressing room, her senses thrumming in the afterglow. Excellent performances were always this way. Wispy images drifted across her mind, much as her musical amour’s Clouds would have floated through a lazy nineteenth-century French summer sky. Music! What an aphrodisiac!
Sera felt him deep in the heart of her, pressing them relentlessly onward as their spirits merged... The music pulsed, and he urged, then held her back. It was she who worked, but he who set the pace, he who created the nuance, the power...the exultation!
She sensed their mutual climax approaching as her body trembled with excitement. She could only allow her soul to lift to meet it. Embrace it.
Revel in it!
Her fingers hammered out the final chords of Toccata, and the audience jumped to its collective feet, applauding wildly. When the piano’s strings had echoed into silence, she stood away from the instrument and faced the standing ovation. Her fantasy lover’s music had triumphed again. Debussy’s music and Sera’s performance — what a sweet coupling!
The crowd called her back to the stage three times before the cacophonous chatter died away. As they vacated Sheldon Concert Hall, she floated to her dressing room, her senses thrumming in the afterglow. Excellent performances were always this way. Wispy images drifted across her mind, much as her musical amour’s Clouds would have floated through a lazy nineteenth-century French summer sky. Music! What an aphrodisiac!
Lest you think the only changes made were the words in blue, I took out about thirty other words that were marked for deletion. If you're having trouble seeing the difference, read the original again, out loud. The speaking voice will bring out the exact rhythm I strove to create.
Again, I do not wish to leave the impression that I'm criticizing my editor. I merely use this as a visual and (if you spoke it aloud) auditory aid in examining just how words can be made mundane or memorable with only minor changes. Multiply this by a dozen or so passages and, even in a major novel approaching one hundred thousand words, the writer's voice can be destroyed. Brevity is to be admired, but not at the cost of all the elements a good novel must contain.
I dare say, if one is only after brevity, then one should by all means, write a poem. That is the essence of the art of brevity; making the most of indelible images with the least number of words. But, just as with the spectrum of light, there is room for poetry in huge long works of the language art, as well as in the briefest of poems.
I'll get off my soapbox now, having no doubt ruffled more than a few feathers in places where they need not be ruffled. And in a few where, no doubt, they should. See, I can't allow everything to be a mere academic discussion. It's my damn Irish temperament. I know! I should stow my temper in my teapot.
Thanks for stopping by, and I'd appreciate any comments you have. Cheers,