Musings Of A New Southern Man

It has been more than three years since John Hart released his last novel, Iron House . His new one is due out soon. How soon? That's where the mystery exists. It is coming out in 2015, but no release date has been announced. I promise that I will be one of the first in line to buy a copy. Hart is a brilliant author. Those who have read my blog know I hold John in high regard. I am rereading his The Last Child , which won the Edgar Award for the year's best mystery. Hart is a nice blueprint for a new author to follow. He nails character, plot, pace, tension. He is one of the few popular authors I know who delivers great opening lines, which was one of the key points made by noted literary agent Don Maass during his workshop I attended a couple of years ago. Very few popular authors have first lines hat pop. They don't have to. John doesn't need to, either, but he still delivers. The reader in me appreciates that. I could go on, but I want to get back to reading  The

I wrote in one of my earliest blogs that being an author was somewhat like being God. An author creates characters and situations, and is the great string-puller. The longer I live and write, though, I think my point reached too far. Humans are every bit as capable of doing things that keep other humans dancing like a puppet. Think about the harsh words spoken to others. Certain series of words can drain the energy and emotion from a person or people, and it can even spark depression or another harmful state. A person with control over workers can shuttle one of his or her underlings into another position without any consultation. That move can even threaten that person's ability to hold a job. Managers and union members negotiate deals that can contain certain toxic results for those covered by that contract. A manager can be nice one minute, then turn around and rip an employee a few hours or minutes later. You see, humans have that power. Many exercise it, and they don't

I am going to be a money man this morning. It's not my favorite subject to write about, but times require a different perspective. Money and journalism used to be on friendly terms. It was a profitable business on a predictable basis. Well, you can forget those days. Those of us in the business knew this was coming. One of my friends. Glen Crevier at the Minneapolis Star-Tribune, told me about 15 years ago that he hoped we still had jobs until it was time to retire. The fallout at The Denver Post started several years ago. The first to go were mid-level managers in jobs that were seen as redundant. The steady decline continued over the years. Copy editing jobs were slashed. Job slots for employees who retired or moved elsewhere were not filled. A few jobs were cut here, a few more there. I was part of the dreaded reduction in workforce twice. Now, The Post and all parts of the massive entity of Digital First Media are for sale. That's how bad it has become. My job at Your

I learned the basics of my craft while attending the School of Journalism at the University of Oregon. Yeah, I learned a lot of other things at UO, but these two professors gave me the foundation for a career. Their lessons didn't seem comfortable at the time, but I look back and appreciate their work. Sometimes you need a tough push to move forward. 1. Dean Rea.  I could write about Dean's Reporting I class and his famous "truth is a dime disappearing into the distance" speech, but every J-School grad knows that wasn't his acid test. That test was Law of the Press. I had upperclassmen tell me that you had to bring your A game to class, and even then there would be unexpected challenges. Turns out they were right. Law of the Press centered on the important legal precedents of the day regarding major factors in journalism such as impact of the First Amendment, libel, pornography, rights of privacy, etc. It took me only a couple of classes to realize I loved the

I don't live on social media. I have many other things to occupy me these days. I am writing my novel, working on getting a job (I have one prospect that I want very much), and I take care of my house as a stay-at-home caretaker. But I am on social media enough to know I prefer Twitter and Facebook more than any other websites. I like Twitter for taking part in ongoing events, and I like Facebook for the ability to contact friends, family and former co-workers. I must add one caveat here. When I talk about these websites within a business framework, my preferences are reversed. A posting on Facebook with a business goal draws about three to five times as many responses as a tweet. Anyone taking a social media campaign into account has to place a high degree of importance on that fact. My personal enjoyment of Twitter is never more apparent than when watching a sporting event. Twitter becomes a chat room for fans from both sides, and the byplay can be enjoyable. My favorite time

I have written here before about my love of Malcolm Gladwell's book David and Goliath . My coworkers at YourHub listened to me talk about the book, and I urged them to act based on things the book told us. The basic message is that we not only need to think outside the box but to build a new box. Not one of Gladwell's examples centers on journalism or media, but the lessons are easily applicable. There is a second source behind this blog entry. It is a video by advertising adviser Cindy Gallop on the need for her industry to blow itself up and be reinvented. (Here is a link:  bit.ly/ ZwIo32) I will use some of the things that I thought of while reading the book, and I will relate them within the context of YourHub. I put five of those ideas out on Twitter earlier today, so those who follow my tweets got an early glimpse. 1. Don't accept limits placed on you by the system. YourHub is designed to be a counterpoint to the various suburban publications within the greater D

Lyman Jones practically appeared out of thin air at the Sebastopol Times. He just showed up one day like a journalistic wizard. He was short, slender, middle-aged, and he wore half-frame glasses that he usually perched on the end of his nose. It took a couple of minutes for me to learn this man was extremely gifted. He was educated at Yale, and he served in a middle management position at the old Dallas Herald. He could comment off the cuff on Shakespeare, current pop culture, national and international politics, the arts, etc. The friendship between Sebastopol Times owner Ernie Joyner and Lyman would seem strange to the many observers. Ernie was a radical conservative. Lyman was an Ivy League liberal who worked on the election campaign of progressive candidate Ralph Yarborough in Texas. But both men were tough-minded journalists, and they recognized the other's talents and commitment to their beliefs. Journalists who have been through the newspaper wars have a tendency to do tha

To show just how different Ernest V. Joiner was as a newsman, I only have to detail the way in which I was hired. Ernie was flying from eastern Oregon to San Francisco to complete his purchase of the Sebastopol Times, a weekly newspaper in Sonoma County. He had a stopover at Portland International Airport, which was about 12 miles from where I lived at the time. I met him at the airport and handed him my book of clips from an internship I had while still at the University of Oregon. He looked it over while we both had our shoes shined. By the time he walked to the gate to catch his flight to SFO, he offered me a job, and I accepted. Ernie once told me that he loved nothing better than "twisting the tail of the tiger." Oh, how Ernie could twist tails. His columns often crossed the line between being exceptionally tough and downright vicious. He took on governmental entities and law enforcement organizations, but he saved his most potent attacks for Democratic politicians and

In Field of Dreams , Burt Lancaster has a memorable line in which he says your dreams often "brush by you like strangers in a crowd." I realize the same thing can be said about important people.  The earliest part of my career was like that, but I didn't realize it at the time. Some notable journalists brushed by me like strangers in a crowd. I was a kid too focused on learning the ropes to be aware of who was teaching me. I will talk about four of those journalists in my next blog entries. Today's topic: Dave and Cathy Mitchell. My first journalism job as a wet-behind-the-ears college graduate was as a jack-of-all-trades for the Sebastopol Times, a weekly newspaper located about 60 miles north of San Francisco in the Sonoma County apple-growing and wine region. It was a nice opening gig for an Oregon guy who viewed California as paradise. My first days at the Times were spent with Dave and Cathy, who were in the process of clearing out after turning over control

It all started with a jet-lag day of Biblical proportions and ended with cappuccinos in Venice and a Smithwick's on draft in Dublin, but in between were great memories, surprises, occasional frustrations and introductions to fellow travelers from around the world. Here is my list of the best of the best and the most overrated of the rest from our European vacation: Best cities we visited:  1) Bellagio, Italy: Anyone who follows me on Facebook knows this already. I was effusive in my praise for this town to the point of saying that I could stay there until my dying day. The lead-up to getting here was less than ideal, but the reward was priceless. We took the train from Lucerne to Bellinzona, Switzerland,  and switched to the northern Italy commuter special. The last train was hot, crowded, and it stopped at every little town along the way. We finally reached Como, Italy, and our launching point for the joys of Lake Como. From the Como rail station there was a short cab ride, t

I do not pretend to be a food critic, the kind who picks apart all aspects of a restaurant and detect every seasoning used in every dish. However, I know what I like. That is all that is needed for this blog entry. That said, here are my top three meals during our smorgasbord tour of west central Europe: 3) Bavette the Grill, Brasserie Nobel, Haarlem, The Netherlands: This was a lucky choice as Deb and I selected a place to eat on our first night in Haarlem. We took a charming walk along the Spaarne River and decided that the Brasserie Nobel looked like a good option for a meal. The bavette option made that come true for me. The dish is flank steak (an overlooked cut of meat) with grilled vegetables and topped with bernaise sauce.  The vegetables included nicely seasoned potatoes and mushrooms (both personal favorites) and green beans in a savory sauce. The bernaise was a nice touch, adding another layer of flavor. I took the waiter's advice and ordered a Joppen beer, which i

It's six weeks since I posted my last blog entry, which isn't a good statistic. You can believe this next statement or not: I have been too busy to do regular blogging. Want proof? Well, here goes. REASON NO. 1: Three weeks in Europe. This wasn't a a nice parting gift for having my job at The Post eliminated. I didn't book this trip as a way to soothe frayed feelings. Deb and I decided to go to Europe long before the guillotine fell, and there was no way we were going to be denied. The best part of being gone so long was that I wasn't putting more responsibilities on others at Denver Post Online or YourHub. The Post did that by eliminating my job, so I left with a clear conscience. I will detail the trip in blog posts over the next several days. The only hint I will give is this: It was as marvelous an experience as I could have scripted. REASON NO. 2: I have been working on my novels. No, let me clarify. I have been working on one of my novels. I started my t

It's been nearly a month since I had a job. That is my longest span without employment since I first stepped into a newspaper office just after graduation from college. The fact I am not grabbing my gear and heading into downtown Denver to do my job well isn't my greatest worry. It's that the job market looks bleak. I have been reviewed for two jobs I am more than qualified for, and the employers have bypassed me before  the interview stage. You know that statement about anyone older than 45 facing considerable difficulty in finding work? I think I am seeing that up close and personal. Not that I am sitting idle. I send out resumes and cover letters. I meet the requirement for unemployment benefits that I make five job contacts per week. I scan jobs lists from private companies and governmental bodies. I check Andrew Hudson's Jobs List for the Rocky Mountain region every day. There is an entity called Connecting Colorado that serves as a clearinghouse for unemployed

I won't go in detail about the day, or the time. I was simply doing what I usually do on a Thursday morning. I did a round of social media (tweets and Facebook posts), and turned my attention to producing the electronic newsletter for the YourHub sections of The Denver Post. It was going to be an easy job. I already had every story link, headline, URL link for photos and wording for blurbs saved on a Notepad++ page, ready to paste into a template. The job was easy. I was nearly done moving links to template when Kevin Dale, one of the powers in The Denver Post newsroom, called to me and asked if I could stop by his office for a chat. That was no problem, and I wasn't anticipating dire news. My job status had been jerked around quite a bit lately, and I expected that this might contain one more jerk on the chain. Well, it did, but Kevin could have slammed my face into the wall and had less impact: Sorry to tell you, Chris, but we have to eliminate your job. When does this ta

It's been awhile since I posted an entry. There have been several difficult weeks. I won't go into detail, but I will try to explain. The movie Cinderella Man keeps showing up. The first time was when I got home from a work shift that went until the middle of the night, and I was able watch the final 15 minutes or so. I love the gritty, sentimental story of a man who took life's hard punches and kept coming back. It doesn't matter to me whether he won or not. The point is that he kept battling. I was channel surfing this morning, and what was on? You guessed it. This time I watched the movie almost from the beginning, and there were so many scenes that weren't just good theater but life lessons that felt like a personal conversation. Sometimes life is tough. It hits you hard, and sometimes it kicks you directly in the crotch. But the point isn't that you've been kicked in the crotch, but what you do after that. James J. Braddock got back into the ring. H

I got absolutely hooked on Malcolm Gladwell's "David and Goliath" and its focus on confronting problems. Part of it is Gladwell's style, which is so simple yet so thoroughly researched. More than that, though, is the forceful way in which he delivers major messages with such gentle force. Here's some background: I led YourHub, the grassroots journalism arm of the The Denver Post, and I used "David and Goliath" as a focus for how we would confront our challenges. Gladwell's subtitle is "Underdogs, Misfits, and the Art of Battling Giants." I find that very fitting for YourHub. We lost six employees to reduction-of-force moves within the past year or so. We still must handle a hefty list of tasks even with this smaller staff. I think that qualifies us as a potential David, and I urged my employees to think about ways "to create David" and learn to conquer our giants. I made a daring move during my last staff meeting as the head o

I blogged about this earlier, but it bears repeating. Do I use obscenity liberally in my day-to-day speech? No. Do I consider obscenity objectionable? Most of the time, but it depends on the situation or context. If I hit my finger with a hammer, I will guarantee you that I will utter an obscenity. (So too will most, if not all, of the pastors I know.) There is a key phrase I used, and it concerns the use of obscenity in the novels I write: It depends on the situation or context. Now, I have never had a character hit his or her finger with a hammer, so the use of an obscenity in that situation has been a non-issue. I do, however, have a detective who litters the literary landscape with f-bombs. My antagonist does, too, usually when he is frustrated by the way events are unfolding. Why do I do that? Because that is the way life is, and I want my characters to be lifelike and exist within lifelike situations. I don't think there are many places of work where you don't hear

George Pelecanos is a victim of poor timing. It isn't his fault. He's a good author, and his The Way Home is a decent novel. It's just that I started his novel after reading Dennis Lehane's Moonlight Mile . Sorry, but anyone writing in the detective/prison/mob boss area of literature is at a serious disadvantage when Lehane's work is involved. Lehane writes well enough that some of his books have become movies -- Mystic River , Gone Baby Gone , Shutter Island . A wise producer needs to grab Moonlight Mile . It has the natural hook because it is a sequel to Gone Baby Gone , with an older Amanda McCready again in extreme peril. Part of Lehane's master's touch is the plot line. He has a 16-year-old Amanda, a series of American goons who enter the world of Kenzie and Gennaro (Lehane's protagonists in a detective series) and the Russian mob. Danger lurks throughout the novel, as expected. But Lehane separates his work from the lesser detective series thro

I admire those who can put creative power into small spaces. I enjoy the great lyricist who can entice you with a few verses. I also enjoy the work of those who put together movie trailers. Granted, few movie trailers are great, but some rise above the crowd. Take, for example, the official trailer for American Hustle.   It starts out with Christian Bale and Bradley Cooper looking at a Rembrandt that Bale says is a forgery. He asks the central question: Who is the real artist here, the painter or the forger? Then the trailer hooks me with the next phase: Led Zeppelin hammering out Good Times, Bad Times as clips from the movie are reeled out in rapid-fire fashion. As soon as that song hit, I knew I had to see the movie. Why was that trailer successful? Two little things: It leads with a philosophical question that ties into the Abscam investigation that is at the center of the movie, and then it adds a song that says this is going to be a snappy experience for the movie fan. Simple,

I woke up in the middle of the night and had one thought banging against my brain. It was relentless, and I knew it was the right thought to have. It said this: "It's time to write new parts of a novel." So, I got up, pulled out my flash drive with the second Daniel Pace novel on it, and I started to work. Writing new material didn't happen. (OK, my above title is a lie. So, sue me.) I needed to reacquaint myself with the parts of the novel I already started. I got fairly deep into this second creation, but I put it aside for more than six months. That was because my first novel in the series needed to be revised. Those revisions took three forms: revisions I know I had to make; a learning experience at Don Maass' week-long writing workshop in Virginia Beach, Va.; and more revisions on what I learned from Don and his team. Those revisions mean going over and over material with which I am intimately familiar. It's vital, but it isn't the most fulfilling w

I read with glee (in some cases) and angst (in others) as the world of teachers, writers and common people weighed in on the apparent loss of the Oxford comma. The death of the comma turned out to be in error; it was just the Oxford public relations department that was dropping the comma, not the university as a whole. The fire storm that started because of the rumored demise amused me. When I first saw the news, I had only one thought. What took Oxford so long? I am a man raised in journalism. Journalists rely on Associated Press style, which regards the Oxford comma as an unnecessary intruder. It should be written like this, "The American flag is red, white and blue," and not this, "The American flag is red, white, and blue." The Oxford comma died a quiet death in my world during my middle years in college. I first displayed this lack of respect for the Oxford dictates while writing a short piece of fiction for an upper-level English class. The instructor note

I was young, caught up in the swirl of emotions that go with entering adolescence. I loved going to the movies, and Doctor Zhivago was the movie of the year. I wanted to be swept away by the sprawling story of Russia in the period of revolution. I ended up being swept away by more than that. I fell in love with Julie Christie, in only a cinematic sense, of course. I was enamored. Her beauty was overwhelming. Her skin was flawless. Her hair was spun gold. And there were those eyes. Director David Lean knew the power of those eyes, and he had several shots where Lara (Christie's character) was seen in partial shadow, with those eyes highlighted. Ah, what beautiful moments. What young man wouldn't fall for a woman as beautiful as that? The first crush is always memorable. But what is more remarkable is that I found a love from a beautiful woman that is far beyond anything to be gleaned from the screen. Julie Christie might have been a dream woman, but she was only a dream. I