Upwords

Lately I've been lethargic in my writing . . . and that can only mean one thing: I'm out of shape. And so, this past Monday, I made sure I was the first person in the gym. I was there when the doors opened at 5 a.m. I busted my gut. Sweated. Then treated myself to a donut.

It's a life you have to lead to appreciate . . . coming home to write in the aftermath of a strenuous workout, along with the daily reminders that I ain't what I used to be and, at any moment, I could throw out my back, pull a hammie, or otherwise dislocate some important piece of anatomy.

Still, a writer does have to stay in condition. The mind works better when the body and spirit are in harmony and have been nourished on warm dough and hot coffee. I'll drink water after I die.

My winter doldrums have also seen my weight shooting back up toward 220 pounds. I'm much stronger, but with spring approaching I plan to slim up again when the sun starts shining. I may make this my Lenten goal, to give up these pounds while adding pounds on the barbell.

I've also gathered a sizable stack of writing goals on my desk: plans for books, essays, stories, poems, articles, blogs, clips, and quips. I'll get to them . . . one by one.

Be-Deviled

A few weeks ago I wrote to an editor at Duke University Press. The subject: a biographical/historical project I've had in the works for over two years. Writing to this editor, I felt a renewed kinship to the University in Durham and could picture myself exiting out of the Divinity School doors onto the lawn immediately in front of the towering chapel, sunlight on my shoulders, hair half way down my back, bearded, looking quite like Jesus.

My letter to the editor pointed out that, in addition to being a Duke graduate, I'm also rooting for the Blue Devils in the upcoming NCAA (though it will be an equal opportunity to root for Indiana State, Purdue and Butler). I tried to write a cover letter that would elicit some interest in my book, but have yet to receive a response. Perhaps I should add:

Dear Editor,
Please accept this work into the Duke Press mix as, the winter here in Indiana has been ****. You can't believing how depressing it is to live in a state where 90% of the days are overcast and gray. Yes, I remember the blue North Carolina skies (and yes, I know all the jokes about God being a tarheel!). Still, even a little thing like having this work accepted by Duke University Press would keep me from jumping into the White Lick creek near my house. I wouldn't drown, but I'd probably break a leg . . . so as you can see, I'm serious about this.

So, let's get down to business. What'll it take, buckaroo? I've got a piece of the 1991 NCAA championship floor that I'd be willing to donate in exchange for book publication. (Yes, Bobby Hurley or Christian Laettner may have actually pivoted on this chunk during the championship game.)

I've also got Duke mugs, place mats, hoodies, T-shirts, photos, books, doormats, mouse pads, and photographs that I would be willing to trade for same.

Let's make a deal. You've got my contacts . . . I've got what you WANT.

All the Best,

A Guy Who Once Owned Season Tickets to Cameron Indoor

Editing Ozzie

It's a little known fact (except to our old high school classmates who want to claim friendship with us) that my wife's nickname in high school was "Ozzie". Becky's maiden name was Osburn . . . and hence the reference. When she married me, she didn't have to change her monogrammed sweaters or signature cheerleader outfits. (By the way, honey, where is that cheerleader uniform? See if it still fits some evening!! Can you still wave those pom-pons?)

Becky probably got the nickname because, it was during our high school years when Ozzie bit the head off a bat on stage during one of his concerts. This might also explain, in part, what has happened to him. Doesn't rabies reduce the brain to hazel-nut size?

Recently I've been editing my wife's papers or, "working with Ozzie". It's a dizzying undertaking. There is the first reading, followed by a series of questions, where my wife quizzes me on what I just read and wonders if my editing skills are lackluster. "Does this paper make sense?" she'll ask. "Aren't you going to make any changes?"

Of course, I tell her the papers are already perfecto . . . no need to change anything. This makes for a happier marriage and if I want to criticize, I'll yell at the dog. That's what pets are for. God created these creatures to cower and hide under the couch while term papers are being read. They can sense the tension in the atmosphere.

As for Ozzie . . . I'd much rather spend a day biting the head off of bats than I would making my wife upset. I'd take rabies any day.

Kindling a Fire

I've now had two lengthy discussions about the Amazon Kindle (thanks Jennifer and George). Yesterday, I ordered one.

My hopes for the Kindle go beyond portability and reading. I am planning to use the Kindle for sermon notes (and delivery?) as well as notations and filing. I'm also hoping to flaunt the Kindle in social settings, pulling it out of my pocket with a flourish while standing next to the caviar table and announcing that I'm halfway through The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire and good Lord, I'm loving it!

I may also use the Kindle to appear more intelligent than I really am. Any electronic device, I think, lends an air of sophistication to my trailer-park mentality and I hope to carry the Kindle with me when I shop at Wal-Mart. I'll use it to double-check my grocery receipts while others stand in line and whisper, "What's up with this guy, ma and what is that he's holding? It ain't a bomb is it?"

My friends will be impressed, too. Their jaws will drop. And I expect beautiful women to make a pass at me. I can pretend to take their phone numbers and program them into the Kindle while they stare in utter disbelief at my technical savvy.

I'm mostly looking forward to impressing my wife. She's easily impressed, and more easily distracted, and I could see myself bringing the Kindle to bed and opening up the little night light while I read Madam Bovary or D.H. Lawrence. I could also read selected portions aloud from the Song of Songs in a James Earl Jones voice.

No doubt, my wife will want a Kindle, too. But I'm not certain about this. Frankly, I picture us as a one-Kindle home. We don't want to get too advanced, and we still want to feel that we can talk to the clientele in Dollar General.

Wanted . . . A Few Facebook Friends

Every writer hopes for readers, and Facebook now seems to be a prime source for this blog. Still, I'm 25 "Friends" shy of the 300 mark, and so I thought I'd elicit this ad seeking two-bit friendships. Here are the type of friends I'm looking for:

Anyone Named "Al"

I'm short on "Als" and I know few people by this name. If you're Al, please befriend me. I'd love to have an Al as a friend. I've got plenty of Bobs and Marys and Jims. Some of these Jims are also Slim. I like Al.

Additional Gorgeous Women

All of the women who are my Facebook friends are gorgeous, including my wife. But I do enjoy showing my wife various photos of my gorgeous Facebook friends. I sit by my wife at night and say, "See, here are the type of women who want to be my friend. Ain't they pretty?" If you are a man who thinks you are gorgeous, please don't reply. Although, if you have other redeeming qualities such as "industriousness", "mental acumen", "a keen sense of humor" or a "fully stocked wine cellar" go ahead and apply. I don't have to know you to love you, but guys please don't send a photo. Women . . . befriend with your best photo.

Billionaires

I'd love to have a billionaire friend. We don't have to hang out together that much, but I would be open to sailing, jetting to Cancun for the weekend, or working behind the scenes at your next Fortune 500 convention (I make a great lime punch). We won't talk about money that often, but if you would like to endow a poor writer like myself, I won't be offended. Oh, and if you know Oprah personally and can get me some tickets to her next "Favorite Things" show, we could make a weekend of it. I'll take some vacation days.

Secret Shoppers

I don't think I've ever met a secret shopper. But I'd love to have one as a friend. Might answer some of my questions: Who are these people? Where do they come from? What do they look like? Could I be standing next to a secret shopper right now? Could this friend get me a great deal on a used Volvo?

Someone Who Has an Umbrella

I never carry an umbrella and am always getting soaked. It would be nice to have a friend who is prepared.

Mom

I don't understand why my mother doesn't want to be my friend. I thought we had things patched up. Mom, I love you. Befriend me. The ball's in your court.

Martin & Marty

I'm reading Martin Marty's biography of Martin Luther (part of the Viking biography series) and learning a great deal about the 16th Century Reformer, not all of it savory. As the be speckled Marty (a famed Lutheran scholar himself) points out, Luther was a man of his time, and we have tendency to judge people through the lenses of our modern sensibilities.

But Marty does a decent job of holding up Luther's strengths and weaknesses to the light, examining these from all angles, and doesn't hold back from offering his own biographer's insights along the way. Luther, in many ways, was an enigma, and like John Wesley's thought and movement in England two centuries later, Luther was neither a systematic theologian or a man without his own weirdnesses and hangups, particularly with the ladies.

It has been many a year since I'd studied or read Luther with any depth, but this thin biography has served to resurrect some latent memories from my church history seminary courses which were led by none other than Dr. David Steinmetz, himself a famed Lutheran and good German to boot. Being a Methodist, I have always found the early Methodist leaders too rigorous and humorless for my sensibilities, but Luther puts these persimmon-sucking circuit riders to shame. Talk about a depressing figure, and constipated in more ways than one.

Luther's theological reformation, however, did reshape the church . . . and his insistence upon salvation by grace alone cannot be overstressed in its categorical shift away from the practices and beliefs of the church in his era. We might say that Luther saved the church . . . including the catholic church, but that's another story and opinion perhaps.

Considering Luther and how he worked out his own salvation and theology, it is difficult to shake the figure of this priest sitting on a latrine for hours, struggling against hemorrhoids and constipation, railing against God and the pope, and hoping against hope that he might some day bed a nun and write erotic poetry. His dreams came true.

God help me . . . I live a boring life, and the black licorice keeps me regular.

My Mileage Deductions

One of the "perks" of being able to claim writing income on my tax return is the ability to deduct my business mileage associated with writing. I don't have much to claim in 2010, as I didn't travel all that much for writing purposes. However, I did keep my writer's mileage log up-to-date last year and could legitimately claim the following on my 2010 return. These deductions could save me all of $5.95 on my taxes . . . just enough to buy a vanilla latte at Starbucks (the only indulgence I give myself through a long year of losing money in this writing game).

Sorry federal budget and Washington politicians, I know I'm not pulling my weight to reduce the monster deficit and debt, but if you ask me nicely (heck, I wanna hear you BEG for it), I might not claim these mileage deductions and you can deduct my $5.95 tax savings from the deficit. I'll make my own vanilla latte and you can vote yourselves another pay increase.

February 2010

Two round trips to The Harrison House in Indianapolis (Deleware Avenue) to meet with archivists and historians who kindly gave me full and unencumbered access to the Presidential library. I'm still writing articles from these research forays and hope to return again this year.

June 2010

Three book signings in various bookstores, the longest journey a round-tripper to Terre Haute, Borders, Honey Creek Square Mall.

July 2010

Round trip to Avon, IN to purchase printer toner and writing supplies. On the way home I stopped at Dairy Queen and bought a medium-sized hot fudge sundae (which I won't write off!). No additional mileage was accrued on the odometer for this ice cream pit stop, but I sure did enjoy getting a "free" taste. This year, I hope to write an article about Dairy Queen and write off all of my various treats, including a Peanut Buster parfait and a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Blizzard. Hopefully, I'll be paying taxes on my magnificent royalty check from a major magazine and can write off all of this cholesterol so I can pay my health insurance premiums.

September 2010

Various treks to libraries, bookstores, and interview sites. I also met a few people to talk about writing some grants and picked up a few lunch tabs. If it were possible to write off this food, I would have ordered filet mignon, but as tax regulations have it, I ordered a measly side salad and ate the free basket crackers loaded up with a ketsup garnish. I did pocket two Equal packets on the way out, however, and felt guilty afterwards. I don't even use Equal. Why did I take 'em, Lord?

Possible travel "write-offs" in 2011: Europe would be nice, especially Greece, where I could write an article about the deficits there. I'd also like to do more with licorice. Anything beach-related. And, of course, sex. But as my wife reminds me . . . that ain't free.