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Ahhh, ’tis so good to be home again. Perhaps this time, after twelve winters in Southwest Florida . . . perhaps this time for good. I’ve put my house up for sale, sold my beater car, and boxed all of my personal effects and shipped them home. Parting is bitter-sweet nonetheless. I have had some wonderful friends in Naples Land and Yacht Harbor these past six years and parting is such ‘sweet sorrow’. Along with friends, I have family in Naples that I’ll miss even more. Erin and Grace and Jack, who is going to be a senior at Babson College in Wellesly, Mass, and Erin’s boyfriend, Josh.

Being back in Minnesota, however, is much closer to my brother John who is coping with a terminal cancer. And friends who are sick with one ailment or another are only minutes away so I can easily visit. And, to be candid, it’s been a financial quagmire running two residences — so economics plays a major part in my decision to face the northern winters again. If my property sells I can buy a used pickup and pay off my Florida loan. Plus, Gail and I can do more roadtrips and eat out more often and (once Covid is put in the past) enjoy life as it has always been in the past.

On Sunday I made a list of ”must do’ matters for this, my first week back. Car insurance, medical checkup (and MAYBE a covid vaccination), changing my TV service so I can watch the Twins games this season, and unpacking several boxes of all my accumulated junk. I’ve also got the beginnings of a new story to work on. Well, Sunday added one thing I hadn’t expected — about six inches of snow. And as Minnesota often works, Monday soared into the high 50’s only to be followed by a brutally cold and windy Tuesday.

On my first appraisal of the old town, very little has changed over the past few months — in sharp contrast to what is going on down in Naples. But that’s been true after every winter in the sun. Like me and my generation, a city shows its age and the incumbent decline. On the uptick, the HHS boys basketball team had won a trip to the state tournament — congratulations players and coaches — and the PeeWee hockey boys just won the state tournament — more congrats and high hopes for the future of HHS hockey. As is obvious, I’m a sports junkie. And a news junkie as well. I’ll talk sports till the sun goes down but politics and my views on current events have to be kept under my hat. That may change in the near future, but everything changes.

I’ll have more on the Twins before Thursday’s opener, and more on my new story one of these days soon. Let me know if you’ve read this blog as any comment is fuel for the next message.

Over the year I’ve enjoyed many song writers and musicians and those who sing the lyrics. For years I enjoyed the soulful lyrics of Kris Kristofferson more than any artist. When sings one of his own songs . . . nobody sings better. Not Willy, nor Johnny Cash, or Whalen, Kris’s best friends on the ‘old’ country scene.

There is a relative newcomer whose spiritual songs I’ve come to greatly enjoy. He is Alan Jackson. Recently I found a title I hadn’t heard before, and I want to share the lyrics as the song truly touched my soul. The title is: “The Older I Get’ . . .

The older I get, the truer it is . . . it’s the people you love,

not the money and stuff that makes you rich

The older I get, the longer I pray . . . I don’t know just why,

I guess it’s that I, just got more to say . . .

And the older I get the more thankful I feel, For the life that I’ve. had

and that I’m living still . . .

And, if they found the fountain of youth, I wouldn’t take a sip . . .

that’s the truth . . .

I could get emotionally wrapped up in lyrics to share with whomever is reading this blog, but I won’t . . . except for Vince Gill singing, ‘Go Rest High on That Mountain’. Just one line: “Go rest high on that mountain, Son . . your work on earth is done, Go to heaven a-shoutin’ before the Father and the Son.” Enough for this afternoon, February 25th. More to come.

UNBLOCKING

In my last post I alluded to that dreaded ‘writer’s block’ without admitted it as such. Despite having strong feelings about my characters, I wasn’t happy with the how the story was unfolding. It seemed to me that it was more like a report than it was a living entity. It was easy for me to avoid working on it, to find other things to do in the mornings — when I’ve enjoyed several hours of writing daily — and simply quit on what I’d started. There was a time just a week or so ago when I called up my novella and added an insightful character to interpret my protagonists account of his life. I began to like the story . . . but my energy level fizzled and I let it go once more.

This morning I forced myself to go back to page one and begin polishing the narrative. I haven’t had to do that before but it seemed to work. In places I had to rewrite large tracts, in others just simple modifications sufficed. Whatever, I was back . . . three hours raced by. (That’s about my max even in good-writing times) and I resolved to pick up where I left off tomorrow.

I think there is another explanation for my loss of interest, energy, or discipling . . . I’ll call it ‘homesickness’ — a malady that I go through every winter in Florida. As nice as I have it down here, it is a disconnect with the life I’ve enjoyed back home. I left dear friends behind when I flew down here back in December. Friends who were seriously ill with cancer or with suffering a serious stroke. Then my brother, John, informed me that he was a ‘short-timer’ as his cancer had spread from the prostate to the bones of his spine and ribs and was going rapidly through his body. A painful way to go. It wasn’t just John, but last week I learned that my friend Al DeLaPointe had died. Al and I and our families go back to my first years in Hibbing. And then there is Ed Beckers who has been suffering with dementia for several months. Ed was my ‘best friend’ for most of my adult life and I don’t think he has much time left either. I could name others as well.

It’s hard for me to be down here when so much of what’s really important in my life is up there. I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention my significant other. I think my nightly conversations with Gail are the only connection that I have . . . but, it’s a good connection. This week we’ve shared the extremes of weather conditions, folks in Hibbing and on the Range have been plunged in the -40’s and worse with winds, while I complain about the heat (80’s) and humidity.

Anyhow, I’m resolved to write as much as I can for the next three weeks and enjoy having Gail down here for ten days. I’ll come back home with a new story and spend some time pushing sales of ‘THE FINAL CHAPTER’ which most people don’t seem to know about. This blog won’t change that as so few actually check my site. Surprise me with a comment if you’ve read this bog. See you soon . . .

https://patmcgauley.com/1/1466-2/

When my website was reconstructed it was my intention to post a blog weekly — if not more. I’ve failed to do so and am wondering why. As much as I’d like to have a reasonable explanation, I can’t come up with one. Maybe I’ve become lazy. Maybe I have nothing to say. Maybe blogging is a companion of writing and I’ve had a problem with my new story. I say problem without any definition. My writing has become much like this blog; a cluster words that don’t say much of anything.

I began my new story in early January. I came easily for about the first ten days . . . then I got sidetracked by what I don’t know. I returned and did a rewrite of what I had written but it still looked the same. I had a character kinda floundering in a plot that wasn’t so much plot as it was memoire. The character (I’ll call him Joe) grew up in Hibbing, went through the Hibbing schools, was an accomplished athlete, and made his girlfriend pregnant. Now, underlying Joe’s life is his attachment to Mum; his reference to his single mother. The essence of all this is a mother/son relationship. Whoopee! That’s how I felt after over 25,000 words — no more than a passable novella. Adding to the frustration is the book I’m reading titled The Water Dancer, the author’s debut novel set in the days of slavery. It is excellent and the acclaim is deserved. Am I jealous? For sure. I appreciate great writers and, the reality is that I’m not one of them.

Were it not for local readers enjoying a story set in their home town I wouldn’t have much in the way of sales. And, speaking of sales, my last novel — The Final Chapter — is probably among the best written I’ve done. I checked with Gail — who handles my books while I’m down here struggling with a new story — told me that my sales since leaving in December amount to about 20 copies. Yes, TWENTY! That’s disheartening. I’ve had a few readers comment that they enjoyed the story but maybe I’ve worked my character to death.

I want to blame COVID and the lost marketing opportunities but . . . I think in all honesty that I need a break from the writing routine for the time being. It’s only early February and maybe I’ll be rejuvenated next week. I have a new idea but it would subvert what I’ve written and take me in a different direction all together. Maybe the problem is just the Florida weather this winter. Oh, I haven’t sold my Florida property yet and my car has been in the shop too often. Looking for reasons and coming up with lame excuses. Until next time . . .

What was the first thing that came to your mind with the title of this blog? Probably it was connections with other people. In today’s perceptions, it might even conjure the notion of ‘important people’ who can give you some benefit. That’s true as well. This morning as I was checking my email, I had a message from a former student of mine. He had just finished his first of my many novels and took the time to let me know that he enjoyed it.

His email was also the first that came from my website’s contact page. So the fact that he had read ‘A Passage of Redemption’ and liked it was amplified by the fact that he took the few minutes to connect with me. More than anything, I had hoped that my new site would do exactly that. I hope that others of you will do what Louie did.

On another note, I’m finding it a challenge to write my next story. I know the reason is it’s been like starting from scratch. In my new novel, “The Final Chapter,’ I told my readers that it would be the end of the Father Mickey chain — also the end of the Moran family saga that has preoccupied me for the past twenty years. You see, when I have Mickey as the protagonist, I have Mary, Meghan, Michael . . . and all the others along with him to embellish the.story. However, they all made an exit of sorts along with Mickey. Characters, and their development, are essential to a story. So is location. I’ve had the familiar haunts of Hibbing and Duluth to further add to the background narrative. So, with the Moran cast, and the familiarity of location, I’ve been able to move swiftly into a new story.

Not so any longer. I will not at this time disclose the new character, nor his whereabouts, but I will say that it is quite different from what I’ve been doing. I did enjoy the experience of a first-person story and decided to try it again. Portraying someone in the first person lets an author get more deeply into the psyche of his characters. Let’s just say that I’m having fun with my new character. ‘Mum’s Lemonade’ is the projected or working title -sorry, no more for now.

Be in touch . . .

“You’ve gotta be crazy, McGauley.” That’s what my dear friend, Ed Beckers would say. But he can’t. He can’t remember the constant tease between us either. Ed has been sick with demencia for months. I mention Ed because I’d always hoped he might be able to come down to Florida where I’ve had a place these past many years. He’d love it — I love it, too.

But I’m planning to sell my little ‘getaway’ where I’ve toughed out the past six winters. Trading Florida for northern Minnesota might seem like have some mental health issues. To put it as honestly as I can, I want to spend the rest of my years with old friends, and old friends are up on the Range. I’ve coped with many winters in Hibbing and can make it through a few more I think. My partner, Gail, will be disappointed I’m sure, she enjoys here winter solitude with me some 2,ooo miles south. ‘Home is where the heart is,’ might well have been a more meaningful title to my blog.

I’d like to interrupt this message with a commercial. My place is a ‘Trailorinium’ in a gated 55+ community located on a river that leads to Naplee Bay and the Gulf coast. I have great neighbors, am a short distance from both downtown Naples and the beaches which is idylic. If you think a trailer is too small, you have another think coming. Two bedrooms, comfortable living room, two bathrooms, and a neat storage shed make living here easy. I’d like to get $70,000 for this piece of paradise.

Back to the post. Working daily on my next novel down here this winter. (Which. has been cooler than normal I might add). Anyhow, the story remains titleless as I go over the 15,000 words mark. It’s not another Mickey adventure, nor an Adam Trygg crime story, but a new character telling his story. I think it’s working so far. But, of course, the reader is the ultimate judge of that. Speaking of critiques . . . I’ve had very little feedback on ‘The Final Chapter’ my 15th novel. The purpose of having this site is to communicate with my readers and communication, I’m told, is a two-way street. I’d appreciate hearing from you and my newly reconstructed website should be easy to navigate. Hope to hear from you.