* The third Beatles book is going to be called Understanding All You See: The Beatles' "Strawberry Fields Forever" and the Transcendent Connection Between Childhood and Genius. Or Understanding All You See: Childhood, Genius, and the Beatles' "Strawberry Fields Forever." Something along those lines. As a general rule, I like to keep the title of a work--including subtitle--at thirteen words or less.
* The one-act play will be called Dick Bag.
* I am being told more of The Year of Doing Nothing and Everything, which I will refer to in these pages as The Year going forward, for convenience. It is a love story unlike any love story, because it is about something a love story has never been about. It is a love I have known, lived, and that I live. And it is that love I am giving to this novel.
* "Master of Romance" is a masterpiece. There's still a bit more to do. It became 3400 words. It's the most erotically-charged fiction I have ever seen--more so than any erotica. More than something like Nicholson Baker's The Fermata. But it's something much deeper, far more moving. Busted and beautiful. There's a lot happening in this story, plot-wise, and it emerges as we go along. We don't expect what we come to find, but it's natural, originates and comes to us naturally, when it should. There is no fiction writer alive right now who understands this or how to make a story this way. They shove something at you. It's all given away right away, and what is there is virtually nothing. This story is a journey, a road, with straight patches and bends. Any straight road will eventually bend.
* Read Edith Nesbitt's 1907 ghost story, "The Portent of the Shadow." Quite flawed. Not a lot there. Tolerable diversion.
* Ran 1000 stairs, did 100 push-ups.
* I pitched things on the first episode of Cheers and the fiftieth anniversary of James Herriot's All Creatures Great and Small as a needed antidote to the kind of miserably performative disdain I was writing about on here the other day in that post about sourcing joy.