Compared to say the auto industry, computer tech, finance, and almost every other industry, publishing is a small world. In bad times December can be especially harsh. That’s when the lay offs happen, and unfortunately they are happening a lot at the moment. S&S, Random House, Houghton Mifflin, and on it goes. And it’s not just jobs. Companies are freezing wages, eliminating pensions, cutting back on travel and entertainment and every other way money gets spent. It can be harsh, but it’s a survival tactic. The good news is that we know (believe) things will bounce back. People still read, books will still get published, and the dream remains alive for all those looking to break into the business. Right now, though, the dream is more challenging than ever.

Ok, now that I’ve depressed you I’m trying to think of something more upbeat to talk about…Obama gets sworn in next month. You can still buy chocolate bars 2 for a dollar. We still won WWII. And I’m still single…which isn’t particularly upbeat for me, but hopefully it’s good news for whomever it is I haven’t dated yet 🙂

Essentially it’s just a group of committed (should be committed) runners training through the sleet and the snow in Central Park through the winter on weeknights starting at 7pm. The only real catch is that you have to dress as if the weather was 15 degrees or more warmer than it really is. The result is you start out freezing before you get warmed up and really moving. Writing’s a bit like that, too. When I first get into a chapter my efforts can be stilted and a bit unsure. I might need a couple of trial paragraphs to figure out which way I’m going. Once I settle on the path, however, my pace picks up and I’m away to the races…and I think I’ve tortured that metaphor enough for one night.

My brother is in town for the holidays and we decided to order Chinese takeout last night. I did an honest to goodness double-take when I read my fortune –

Open up your mind. Let your fantasies unwind.

How the heck did my editor get that in there? I’m writing! I’m writing!

For all those celebrating, Happy Thanksgiving! For all the turkeys, my deepest condolences.

I put up two plastic hooks in my shower. It wasn’t the technical feat (you just peel off the plastic and stick ’em to the tile) it was what it symbolized. I started running about a year and a half ago. At the time I looked more like someone mid-seizure than anything else, but I persevered. As my distance improved I started buying proper running gear (Converse sneakers, gray flannel track suit and a black wool cap worked for Rocky, but I wanted to be stylin’) and found that at the end of each run I had a lot of sweaty, stinky, expensive running gear to put somewhere. First stop is the shower where they get a rinse, wring and hung to dry before moving on to the laundry. Now that I’m also going to the gym the amount of sweaty, stinky, expensive running and workout gear is multiplying and with it the need for a place to hang it, hence the hooks. Summiting Mt. Everest it’s not, but I felt a momentary twinge of satisfaction as I stood back to admire my accomplishment.

I really need to get out more.

I tried to cook yesterday. Bake really. Actually, all I managed to do was turn the stove on. How hard can that be? Note to self: in the future, do not put flammable oven mitts in the lower broiler just inches from an open flame. The pizza I had been planning on cooking stayed in the freezer while the charred and flaming oven mitts were first doused with water then run down the stairs to be dumped on the sidewalk to the amusement and consternation of the mail lady, cable guy, and various passers by. I met a lot of my neighbors in the building as they stuck their heads out to see if the apartment really was on fire or if I was just trying to cook again.

This morning I found six takeout menus in front of my door. Subtle.