Sunday, March 16, 2008
Walter Fiction: The Approach of Spring
"Walter," Lila said, "the equinox is next week."
"I know, love." He looked up from the crossword puzzle in the morning paper. "We're set for it."
"Are you? You haven't left the house in a month. How can the band be ready for next week if you don't practice?"
"We're pros." Of course it would be fine. It always was. He'd been playing with this group of guys for years now. The Vernal Equinox Celebration always went well.
Lila knew better than to push it. Just as spring came slowly every year, so did Walter and his music. Spring meant the beginning of his touring season. Come August, when they'd all had enough, he'd take another month off, join everyone at the Autumnal Equinox Celebration, and then spend the winter holed up in his basement studio, creating a new album.
And then, just like the way the Earth turned, Walter's musical cycle would begin again.
If the Earth didn't need to practice for all this, why did he?
Springtime, awakening... how aware of the changing seasons is an aging rocker, anyway? That's what inspired this. For more Walter, visit here, here, and here. And stay tuned; in my file of saved stuff I need to post one day, I've got at least one more piece that features him.
"I know, love." He looked up from the crossword puzzle in the morning paper. "We're set for it."
"Are you? You haven't left the house in a month. How can the band be ready for next week if you don't practice?"
"We're pros." Of course it would be fine. It always was. He'd been playing with this group of guys for years now. The Vernal Equinox Celebration always went well.
Lila knew better than to push it. Just as spring came slowly every year, so did Walter and his music. Spring meant the beginning of his touring season. Come August, when they'd all had enough, he'd take another month off, join everyone at the Autumnal Equinox Celebration, and then spend the winter holed up in his basement studio, creating a new album.
And then, just like the way the Earth turned, Walter's musical cycle would begin again.
If the Earth didn't need to practice for all this, why did he?
Springtime, awakening... how aware of the changing seasons is an aging rocker, anyway? That's what inspired this. For more Walter, visit here, here, and here. And stay tuned; in my file of saved stuff I need to post one day, I've got at least one more piece that features him.
Labels: creative writing, fiction, Poetry Train, Walter, Writer's Island
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Inside Writing: What's in a name?
It's all Wylie's fault.
If you've been following the Walter saga, you understand the history here, such as it is. The short version goes like this: Wylie was musing about names.
Now, she's got me doing it, too.
Only, where she was wrestling with first names, my issues lie with last names. This has always been a thing with me, a detail I never overly cared about. I kid you not; I dated guys whose last name remained a total mystery to me even after we broke up. Makes you understand why none of them lasted more than three weeks (although the Tour Manager's early intrusion into my life deserves most of the blame for that).
Surnames are something we're born into, maybe even more than a first name. After all, our parents sometimes anguish over first names. They fight. Hopefully, they don't come to blows and hopefully, they don't name their child after the first thing they see (Plexiglass, anyone? Know who was named for Plexiglass?) But a surname... forget it. We girls are sometimes lucky, in that if we like our husband's name, we can take it and shuck off our old name. But the guys, by and large, are stuck. As are we all, at least until we're 18 and can face a judge and explain why Heffenshitzel isn't such a great surname.
(This is where I point out the irony that the band ShapeShifter was named for Trevor's surname -- Wolff. And that I named Trevor before a friend, whose maiden name was Wolfe, named her son Trevor.)
So, of course, when Wylie asked about rock stars named Walter, I went with what she'd given me -- a rock star named Walter. It didn't dawn on me until after I'd posted the first Thursday Thirteen list that Walter had no surname.
Fortunately for me, this realization came at one of my favorite times for letting my mind wander: 4:30 in the morning, which seems to be my latest time to wake up for a potty break during the night. And which seems to be when I've been doing some really cool envisioning of scenes that get written out over the following few days.
Even more fortunately, Walter's surname popped into my head immediately. Cicewski. Pronounced "Chi-Chev-ski." You can tell a bit about the area in which I live if that name and pronunciation came together so easily.
So Walter's got a surname. He's got an outtake featuring a few familiar faces, too, but not for a few days yet. Sheesh. I'm still trying to get you guys more Pam, who didn't have a surname for years.
She was just fine. Never got cranky about it. So why did Walter?
It's all about character, huh?
And if you've missed it somehow, Just a reminder... go vote for me!
Yes, I'm totally going to torture you with this until the voting closes on May 22. So go vote, will ya? If you've already voted, why not register under another e-mail address?
If you've been following the Walter saga, you understand the history here, such as it is. The short version goes like this: Wylie was musing about names.
Now, she's got me doing it, too.
Only, where she was wrestling with first names, my issues lie with last names. This has always been a thing with me, a detail I never overly cared about. I kid you not; I dated guys whose last name remained a total mystery to me even after we broke up. Makes you understand why none of them lasted more than three weeks (although the Tour Manager's early intrusion into my life deserves most of the blame for that).
Surnames are something we're born into, maybe even more than a first name. After all, our parents sometimes anguish over first names. They fight. Hopefully, they don't come to blows and hopefully, they don't name their child after the first thing they see (Plexiglass, anyone? Know who was named for Plexiglass?) But a surname... forget it. We girls are sometimes lucky, in that if we like our husband's name, we can take it and shuck off our old name. But the guys, by and large, are stuck. As are we all, at least until we're 18 and can face a judge and explain why Heffenshitzel isn't such a great surname.
(This is where I point out the irony that the band ShapeShifter was named for Trevor's surname -- Wolff. And that I named Trevor before a friend, whose maiden name was Wolfe, named her son Trevor.)
So, of course, when Wylie asked about rock stars named Walter, I went with what she'd given me -- a rock star named Walter. It didn't dawn on me until after I'd posted the first Thursday Thirteen list that Walter had no surname.
Fortunately for me, this realization came at one of my favorite times for letting my mind wander: 4:30 in the morning, which seems to be my latest time to wake up for a potty break during the night. And which seems to be when I've been doing some really cool envisioning of scenes that get written out over the following few days.
Even more fortunately, Walter's surname popped into my head immediately. Cicewski. Pronounced "Chi-Chev-ski." You can tell a bit about the area in which I live if that name and pronunciation came together so easily.
So Walter's got a surname. He's got an outtake featuring a few familiar faces, too, but not for a few days yet. Sheesh. I'm still trying to get you guys more Pam, who didn't have a surname for years.
She was just fine. Never got cranky about it. So why did Walter?
It's all about character, huh?
And if you've missed it somehow, Just a reminder... go vote for me!
Yes, I'm totally going to torture you with this until the voting closes on May 22. So go vote, will ya? If you've already voted, why not register under another e-mail address?
Labels: Inside Writing, surnames, Walter
Friday, April 20, 2007
Fiction: Walter
First off, I'd like to say that She is NOT getting the Thinking Blogger award for this post.
Secondly, if you weren't here yesterday and are wondering who Walter is and how he fits into the grand scheme of things, scroll down and read yesterday's Thursday Thirteen. That should give you the background you need, but really. You can blame it all on Wylie. I'm not calling this an outtake because... I have no idea what it is yet. Maybe an outtake. Maybe the start of something longer. Tell me if you want more.
And anyone who catches the reference to another TTer and writer wins a cheer.
There was no doubt about it: Walter's fingers were stiff and sore come morning. In some ways, they didn't feel like fingers at all, but like claws, or those skinny little bird's toes, all red and rumply. The sort you stared at as they moved, presaging disaster.
A few of those pills that Dr. Rosen had prescribed worked wonders. Over the years, Walter had learned not to ask what sort of pills Dr. Rosen was giving him. They worked, they got him through, that was all he needed to know. They gave his fingers their life back so that the show could go on.
Walter rolled over in bed and grabbed for his cigarettes and the lighter with the big, arthritis-happy flicker. The show… ahh, the show. The one that they said would tank, not last all these years. The one they said that fifty-year-olds had no business performing.
Tell that to Rat Catcher, Walter thought with a smile. They were as old as he was, had been at it as long as he had, and could still rock the house. Maybe not as long or hard or with as much energy, but they could still rock.
So much for those preconceptions of youth, Walter thought. Better to die before the aging process set in. Better to hang it up before age 40, just because 40 was when you got too old to have long hair and play the guitar for more than ten people at a party held in your living room.
It was funny to hear the young kids who came to play with him or just pay homage. A lot of them still believed those old tales. They'd blurt out something stupid like that, firmly inserting their feet in their mouths, all the while completely oblivious to it.
Walter and Dr. Rosen would have themselves a few good laughs about it later on. Sometimes, Lila would join them for those laughs, but usually, she held back. Lila wasn't much for laughing at anybody anymore, least of all the young kids with stars in their eyes. She'd learned the hard way how that sort of behavior could backfire on you.
So had he, which is why Lila and Dr. Rosen were the only people he laughed with. Over the years, as his acquaintances had grown, his trusted inner circle had shrunk. People were too fast to sell you out, to crawl over you in their own race for the top.
How many times had he sat down with an eager young kid who wanted to be his next disciple and told that kid that being on the top didn't matter? That having a steady, loyal audience and a consistent sales level was where it was at.
They'd always point out that in addition to a disciple, Walter himself was always latching on to a new hot guitarist with a huge following. They never got that it was all about marketing, that the idea was to use the hot guitarist to draw in new fans, many of whom stayed once the hot guitarist had cooled and drifted off into obscurity or a spot playing behind true has-beens like Jim Shields and Terry Fantillo.
The only ones who stuck around were the smart ones, the ones who did a stint with Walter and then went on to create their own band. Or to join a band with staying power, like Rises the Night.
He'd seen all sorts of kids over the years. The cocky ones, the quiet ones, the sex-obsessed ones, the junkie ones. He'd learned. And he'd survived.
And if you've missed it somehow, Just a reminder... go vote for me!
Secondly, if you weren't here yesterday and are wondering who Walter is and how he fits into the grand scheme of things, scroll down and read yesterday's Thursday Thirteen. That should give you the background you need, but really. You can blame it all on Wylie. I'm not calling this an outtake because... I have no idea what it is yet. Maybe an outtake. Maybe the start of something longer. Tell me if you want more.
And anyone who catches the reference to another TTer and writer wins a cheer.
There was no doubt about it: Walter's fingers were stiff and sore come morning. In some ways, they didn't feel like fingers at all, but like claws, or those skinny little bird's toes, all red and rumply. The sort you stared at as they moved, presaging disaster.
A few of those pills that Dr. Rosen had prescribed worked wonders. Over the years, Walter had learned not to ask what sort of pills Dr. Rosen was giving him. They worked, they got him through, that was all he needed to know. They gave his fingers their life back so that the show could go on.
Walter rolled over in bed and grabbed for his cigarettes and the lighter with the big, arthritis-happy flicker. The show… ahh, the show. The one that they said would tank, not last all these years. The one they said that fifty-year-olds had no business performing.
Tell that to Rat Catcher, Walter thought with a smile. They were as old as he was, had been at it as long as he had, and could still rock the house. Maybe not as long or hard or with as much energy, but they could still rock.
So much for those preconceptions of youth, Walter thought. Better to die before the aging process set in. Better to hang it up before age 40, just because 40 was when you got too old to have long hair and play the guitar for more than ten people at a party held in your living room.
It was funny to hear the young kids who came to play with him or just pay homage. A lot of them still believed those old tales. They'd blurt out something stupid like that, firmly inserting their feet in their mouths, all the while completely oblivious to it.
Walter and Dr. Rosen would have themselves a few good laughs about it later on. Sometimes, Lila would join them for those laughs, but usually, she held back. Lila wasn't much for laughing at anybody anymore, least of all the young kids with stars in their eyes. She'd learned the hard way how that sort of behavior could backfire on you.
So had he, which is why Lila and Dr. Rosen were the only people he laughed with. Over the years, as his acquaintances had grown, his trusted inner circle had shrunk. People were too fast to sell you out, to crawl over you in their own race for the top.
How many times had he sat down with an eager young kid who wanted to be his next disciple and told that kid that being on the top didn't matter? That having a steady, loyal audience and a consistent sales level was where it was at.
They'd always point out that in addition to a disciple, Walter himself was always latching on to a new hot guitarist with a huge following. They never got that it was all about marketing, that the idea was to use the hot guitarist to draw in new fans, many of whom stayed once the hot guitarist had cooled and drifted off into obscurity or a spot playing behind true has-beens like Jim Shields and Terry Fantillo.
The only ones who stuck around were the smart ones, the ones who did a stint with Walter and then went on to create their own band. Or to join a band with staying power, like Rises the Night.
He'd seen all sorts of kids over the years. The cocky ones, the quiet ones, the sex-obsessed ones, the junkie ones. He'd learned. And he'd survived.
And if you've missed it somehow, Just a reminder... go vote for me!
Labels: character sketch, creative writing, Walter, Wylie Kinson
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Thursday Thirteen #25 -- Inspired to think
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I was debating this week about pulling out my soapbox and blathering about how important it is for us to be a community, whether online or in our neighborhoods or whatever. But actions speak louder than words, so here's the story: I gave my good friend zzz  , and he turned around and gave it right back to me. At first, I was stunned and flabbergasted. But then Wylie asked me about characters on her blog and... well, I'd like to give to Wylie for that post.Thus... 1. Walter was born because Wylie asked if a rock star could be named Walter. How could I not rise to that challenge? 2. Walter is fifty. He's been rocking for over thirty years. 3. He's a guitar purist and innovator. Think Joe Satriani. All guitar, all the time. What can it do? What are the bounds of the instrument, and how can those boundaries be pushed? 4. Walter may have thinning grey hair, but what's left gets worn back in a ponytail that makes him look more like a hippie than a rocker. 5. Walter has pretty bad arthritis and a really good doctor who keeps his hands limber through advanced pharmaceutical use. 6. Walter has a companion, Lila, who's been with him for twenty years. 7. Walter's had a number of gold and platinum records over the years. He's played for as many as 20,000 during the peaks in his career -- and as few as ten during the dips. 8. Grizzled road veteran… that pretty much says it all, right? 9. I think you have to have a certain level of smarts, savvy, and luck to have this sort of career. 10. And good people around you. 11. Hopefully, Walter expands on your idea of a Rock Star. Does a rock star have to be someone who shines all the time, like Mitchell and Trevor? Can you be a star if you've never reached the pinnacle? 12. The outtake I'll post over the weekend may actually be the start to my exploring Walter and writing a novel about him. Be sure you stop back and tell me what you think. 13. So… Wylie and others… from what little you've seen so far, CAN a rock star be named Walter? Lest the Thinking Blogger award fun be over so fast, I'd also like to give it to Colleen Gleason. Read the outtake carefully once I post it and you'll see why. And if you've missed it somehow, Just a reminder... go vote for me! Back to Thinking Blogger stuff: Here are the rules, for you newly tagged folk... How participation works: If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme. Optional: Display the ‘Thinking Blogger Award’ with a link to the post that you wrote. |
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
Labels: Blogger's Choice Award, Colleen Gleason, Thinking Blogger Award, Walter, Wylie Kinson
