We’re still getting the kinks out of the blog and what will soon be a new look for my website. Stay tuned!…
My wonderful webmaster, Justin Sablich, is going to re-boot my website so that it is fully designed in WordPress and will more seamlessly match up with my blog. This change, he assures me, will also enable me to make small adjustments to the site without calling on him desperately for help. This is a good thing, because Justin has become rather a big deal at The New York Times — he is now the senior web editor on the sports desk, where he manages the daily content of nytimes.com/sports, produces multimedia packages (audio and video) and writes regularly for multiple blogs and occasionally for the print edition of The New York Times. Congrats, Justin!
Justin assures me he will still be here when I need him . But in the meantime, for the next week or two the blog might remain inactive while some web changes take place. Still, if I have any news — a couple of things might be coming down the pike over the next few weeks — I will likely update the blog.
Enjoy the rest of June!
I’m currently listening to an audiobook of This Boy’s Life, the well-known memoir by Tobias Wolff. I enjoy listening to audiobooks, and this one has kept me company during morning runs and short car rides. But I have wished, more than once, that I could see the words that I am hearing in this book — that I could read the sentences over and over and really appreciate the incredible craft of this writer. Show vs. tell? Move seamlessly from scene to reflection? Use interesting verbs? Find a creative, new way to say something ordinary? Set the scene? Find the universal in the individual experience? It all seems effortless in this book. It all seems, even, beside the point. Amazing.
Here’s a delectable taste (found online — I had to find these paragraphs!):
“We sat gazing out across the water. The river was swollen with runoff. More brown than green, it chuckled and hissed along the bank. Farther from shore it seethed among mossy boulders and the snarled roots of trees caught between them. From under the changing surface sounds of the river came a deep steady sigh that never changed, and grew louder as you listened to it until it was the only sound you heard. Birds skimmed the water. New leaves glinted on the aspens along the bank.
It was spring. We were both caught in it for a moment, forgetful of our separate designs. We were with each other the way kindred animals are with each other. Then we stirred, and remembered ourselves. Father Karl delivered some final admonition, and I said I would do better, and we walked back to the store.”
Sigh. I write like that in my dreams.…