Whelp, I’d planned on posting the second part of the Europe trip today, complete with my wonderful prose and beautiful photos. Instead, real life got in the way quite a bit this week, and before I knew it, it was already two o’clock in the afternoon. I’ll give it another shot next week.
In the meantime, here’s a poem:
‘Twas the night before blog post and all through my brain
Ran thoughts of my deadline bearing down like a train.
“Where did the week go?” I pondered and wondered.
The days flew right by as I worked and I blundered.
Sunday and Monday and Tuesday they came!
Then Wednesday and Thursday! Now who is to blame?
I figured I’d have a few minutes or more
To upload some photos and write words that soar.
But nope, not this week, it just wasn’t to be.
The tasks they came fast and the time it did flee.
As always, however, I hold out hope for next Friday
That things will
It was around 2007 or so when I decided that I really and truly wanted to visit England. I’d always felt a strong affinity for the British Isles, so that played one factor in the decision. But by that time, a lot of my fiction work was heavily based in and/or influenced by the land’s history and geography, so I knew I just had to see it for myself.
I bought a paper map of England, mounted it to a piece of foam core, and started sticking pins in the places I wanted to see. This map hung prominently in my office for about two days before it eventually found its way to the bottom of a pile of garbage in the garage. I knew the trip wouldn’t be feasible for some time, but the seed was planted.
Fast forward to October 2016.
I went to the bank one day and handed the teller about thirteen bucks. In return she gave me a funny piece of colored paper. It had a lady on it and the number “10” plus an odd symbol that looked like curvy “L” with a line through it. I asked the teller, “What am I supposed to do with this?” She claimed it was “money” and that I could “spend it” to “buy things in London” if I ever “traveled there.” OK, boomer.
I slipped the funny piece of paper into Laura’s anniversary card that year and told her everything the teller told me. “We’re going to London?” she confirmed. “Yep!” And now my decade-long idea was real, since I involved another human brain in the project. The plan at the time was to go sometime during 2017, a year in which I eventually traveled many, many places, but not to England.
The year 2018 fared no better. Not wanting to just let this trip slip away as it had so many times already, we decided to turn it into a Christmas present to the kids. So on December 25, 2018, the whole thing got very real as we handed out funny pieces of colored paper to everyone. No backing out now.
Planning
As the astute reader may have noticed, this blog post title says says “Europe” and not just London or England. During 2018, as I thought about where we might go in and around London, I had a thought: there’s a train that can take you straight to Paris and back. It would be a shame to hang out just a few hours away from Paris and not take a peek at least.
But then I thought: “Well, I’m not going to just make that a day trip. That’d be like five hours wasted on a train. Might as well spend the night.” Which soon turned into, “Except there’s a lot to see in Paris, would we really want just two half days there?”
So in the end we came up with this high level plan:
Date
Location
Wed Oct 16
Fly to Paris
Thu Oct 17
Paris
Fri Oct 18
Paris
Sat Oct 19
Paris to London
Sun Oct 20
London
Mon Oct 21
London
Tue Oct 22
London
Wed Oct 23
Head West
Thu Oct 24
Cheddar Gorge
Fri Oct 25
Fly home from London
We spent a few days brainstorming ideas and several months building out a very detailed itinerary, a good chunk of which got tossed aside once our feet were on the ground and the reality of how public transportation works set in.
But enough set up! Let’s get this epic, seven-part blog series going…
Leaving
Of course, no trip of this magnitude begins without an extensive packing plan. I’m sure everyone experiences this phenomenon:
ME REGULARLY: *uses the same 3 things at home*
ME PACKING FOR VACATION: I wonder if I'll need 4 French horns or 5
— Michael November Name š¶ (@Home_Halfway) October 9, 2019
Me, I tend to not spend too much time packing. In fact, it took me all of about half a minute to do so:
To help adjust to the time change and avoid spending our first day as the walking dead, we began to shift our days earlier by one hour for the four days before departure. This meant getting up at three o’clock in the morning and then doing nothing for many hours until it was time to pack the car and leave:
Our first flight took us from Austin to Charlotte, with a somewhat short layover. Short is good for not wanting to hang out in an airport doing nothing, but bad for the psyche when you feel anxious. Like you might miss the connection or worse, not have time to stop by Auntie Anne’s. Fortunately, everything went smoothly.
After waking up at three AM, the plan was to stay up until after dinner that night and then sleep six straight hours. We were set to land shortly before seven in the morning, so if we’d fooled our bodies into thinking it got most of a good night’s sleep, we’d be fine. It’s a long flight after all:
As fate would have it, I only got about an hour and a half of sleep. But I was fortunate. Everyone else got much, much less; barely more than a light nap. The flight landed irrespective of our preparedness, and we found the terminal helpfully connected to the local public transportation system.
As part of our planning this year, we watched a couple YouTube videos about how to use the Metro and RER lines: everything from buying tickets to travel etiquette (apparently they frown on train surfing). So while I knew where to find the tickets, the machines thwarted me right out of the gate when they refused to accept my credit card. Semi-alarmed (since I’d planned on using this credit card a lot during the trip) I switched to using the funny looking colored paper (which worked) and off we went.
We found the turnstiles right away and got hit with another problem: they wouldn’t read the tickets we’d just purchased two minutes ago. A gentleman behind me witnessed my multiple failed attempts, and swiped me through on his card. The rest of the family found an opening at the far right they could just walk right through. Rats. The first two things I tried on the trip ended up failing. This doesn’t bode well.
But once through, we were now and officially out of the airport and in Paris:
In spite of it being around 07:40 in the morning, it was still dark. I didn’t realize the sun didn’t come up until around 8:15. And since we were at the beginning of the line, there were very few people on the train. But after the twenty-or-so minute trip, the train ended up packed (it was, after all, morning rush hour) and when we emerged the sky was light. It felt like we’d been on there for hours.
As we emerged from underground, I snapped my very first above-ground photo of Paris. Notre Dame greeted us immediately which seemed like a very fitting start to the trip:
The metro station was only a few minutes’ walk from our hotel. As we approached the entrance, my mind began to assemble some words to use at the front desk. I had, after all, spent the last five months or so brushing up on years of French study. “Bonjour!” I would say brightly. “Pouvons-nous laisser nos bagages ici jusqu’Ć cet aprĆØs-midi?” So simple.
When we got there, however, the door was locked. (It wasn’t until later we realized the difference between “push” and “pull”.) Another guest let us in, as they were waiting to check out themselves. When they did, they spoke in English. So did the person at the desk. And with that I chickened out. “Hello!” I said brightly. “Can we leave our luggage here until this afternoon?” So simple.
After dropping off the bags, we headed to our one and only one official event of the day. We had a hunch that despite all plans to counteract, we would still end up the walking dead and didn’t want to overbook the day. So to check off the “if nothing else we have to see the Eiffel Tower” box, that’s where our feet took us.
It’s a quick Metro ride from Notre Dame to the Eiffel Tower. But somehow we missed our stop and went too far. This was the first of maybe seventy-three travel mistakes I would make over the next eight days. After pondering the idea of getting back on and riding the other direction, we decided to walk.
First stop, however, was not the tower. It was breakfast at the Cafe Beaujolais, just a block or two from our intended stop. I ordered tea, which was delicious. Everyone else ordered coffees or sodas and various French-themed breakfast items.
While eating, this guy walked over and hung out with us a while.
But enough with the doggos and croissants! Let’s go see that big metal thing already!
This was my second time visiting the Eiffel Tower. Though decades ago, I still clearly remember my first impression of seeing it in person for the first time. The millions of photos and movies that I’d seen of it during my life had not prepared me for the immensity of the structure. I remember gazing up at just the first level some eighteen open stories above me and thinking, “Wooooow.”
It was still big this time, but just not as big as I remember. That feeling of being nearly overwhelmed just wasn’t there this time. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still an amazing structure. So I just dismissed this new feeling as: 1) I’m not in my twenties anymore and 2) it’s not my first time. Which means it’s official: I’m a fuddy duddy.
Although stairs are an option (at least for the first two levels), we took the lift.
It was cold and wet that day and we worried about what the top of the tower might feel like. Actually, it wasn’t too bad. I think views like these help take your mind off the weather:
Our total stay ended up being about ninety minutes, though we’d budgeted for three hours, as recommended by their web site. I think that recommendation is to help battle larger crowds and (perhaps) not pre-purchasing tickets. But given the fact that it was eleven o’clock on a cold, rainy, Thursday, we didn’t have to compete with too many others.
We took the lift down and our One Big Event for the day was already over.
Although breakfast wasn’t that far in our past, we stopped at another cafe to grab a quick snack, a warm beverage, and to rest our tired bodies. Although we’d only done “one thing” at this point, the reality is we’d now been up for twenty-seven straight hours, discounting the fitful naps on the plane ride over.
So we ditched our first shopping excursion and headed back to the hotel to check in and pass out. This is the street our hotel was on, just a block from the Seine and very close to that Notre Dame view you saw earlier.
After a few hours of napping, it was time to wake up — for dinner. Our family is notoriously bad at picking out places to eat. Knowing that, we preselected all eateries for the trip and added them to the itinerary to save us hours of doubt and grappling.
It was called “HD Diner” but only at this point, right before we left, I realized the HD stood for Happy Days. It was a 1950s, American themed place, that served exactly what you’d expect. And I began fulfilling the promise I made to myself of having one beer per day while on the trip.
After dinner we ran a couple errands and then found our way back to the hotel. I loved the narrow, winding, backstreets, every one of which looked like we’d stepped into a stereotypical postcard. The streets buzzed with activity, and the lights, sounds, and smells were exactly as I’d hoped and imagined.
Tired and yet still fulfilled by our light first day, we crashed for the night. Day Two held much more in store for us, and we needed all the recharging we could get. Stop back next week for more.
“The year in review?” Charlie’s readers cried out. “It’s only November first, silly! There are still sixty days left until 2020. That’s like [whips out calculator] sixteen percent of the entire year still to come!”
Excellent point. I realize it’s tradition to wait until the end of the year to do a year in review, but then I thought: what if you get to that point and you still have regrets about the year? What if, after you pored over your list of accomplishments, you realized in horror, “Rats! I never got around to building that life size replica of Diagon Alley in my backyard.”
So that’s why today I thought I would go through my 2019 todo list and see how I’ve done, while we’re still only 82.19% of the way through 2019. That way I still have some time to head to The Home Depot and buy all those Diagon Alley supplies.
Here’s the high level overview:
At first glance, it doesn’t look too bad. There are three lines that are seventy-five percent or better. Although it feels like I hardly got anything done, I kept things up on the health and fitness front and Laura and I tackled some big landscaping projects: nearly finishing the plans we got rolling back in early 2017.
However, for the umpteenth year in a row, the creative, soul-fulfilling tasks have taken a distant back seat to everything else. I’ve only gotten three chapters in to the current novel-in-progress. And I made basically zero progress on getting the home studio set up again, let alone even doing anything with it. On the upside, today is the first day of NaNoWriMo, so I might be able to use that as an excuse to gain some more ground on the book. And who knows what can happen with sixteen percent of the year left.
The big thorn in my side — the garage — got a wee bit better this year. But if history is any indication:
…that will only get cleaned up after I’m dead. Sorry, kids!
Before I wrap up this post, take one last look at the only accomplishment of the year to hit one hundred percent. Yep, it’s the big family vacation. It’s a project that I spent over eighty-three hours planning. It’s a project that took two hundred and twenty-five hours to experience. And it’s a project that will likely take up all my blog post spots for the rest of this year.
Hello and Happy Friday! It’s already been another busy month for me and it’s not about to let up. That should explain why this post is so very short and nearly devoid of content. That also explains why I won’t be blogging again until Friday, November 1, 2019.
Enjoy the rest of October, have a happy Halloween, and I’ll see you again when — gosh, is it really that time already? — when NaNoWriMo begins.
Two weeks ago, I posted an updated version of Chapter One. This week I have two more chapters: an updated version of Chapter Two and (for the first time ever) Chapter Three.
The third chapter has been a bit of struggle for me. If I’ve done my job right, that struggle won’t show through. The cruel part is, I won’t be able to see it for myself. That’s just a fundamental law of writing and it’s the reason we have professional editors.
So with the smallest amount of ado I’ve ever written, let’s jump right in:
Whelp, that’s just how writing works. The author throws a bunch of words on the page, liberally slashes away at them with a red pen, and then replaces them with more different words. —Charlie Hills, September 20, 2019
While that broadly describes how writing works, individual authors do follow their own, unique editing patterns, chief of which is the number of times one cycles through the red pen phase.
It’s rare, but not completely unheard of, for an author to write a single draft and publish it. But to that end, sometimes people also win the Powerball or get struck by lightning. Two drafts is still pushing it. Three seems to be a magic number. It goes like so:
First Draft. Author spits out the raw story, then walks away from it.
Second Draft. Author makes a cleanup pass, worthy of showing an editor, beta reader, or literally any other human being.
Third Draft. Author incorporates all feedback, makes final revisions.
Easy peasy!
My system (patent pending) is a little more complex. But it also produces zero results, so you really can’t overlook its potential:
Hey, I have an idea for a book!
Put idea on hold for ten minutes to ten months.
Write an opening chapter.
Write it again.
Walk away.
Write anywhere from 30,000 to 120,000 words.
Walk away.
Rewrite the opening chapter.
Wait a week.
Rewrite the opening chapter.
Wait two days (no more, no less — this is important!)
Rewrite the opening chapter.
Rewrite the second chapter.
Rewrite the thirdno secondthird opening chapter.
Hey, I have an idea for a book!
And people wonder why I decided to give up. But it’s all good. I’m doing my best to plow forward with this latest story and although it got a slow start (six and a half years), it’s going better now and I may just finish this one. Then again, I may also win the Powerball or get struck by lighting.
Guess what? I started working on this again! Not much, since I’m not exactly swimming in free time here, but enough that I’ve finally finished Chapter One.
[Person in the back row raises hand]
Yes?
“What do you mean by finished chapter one? I thought you finished it last May?”
Whelp, that’s just how writing works. The author throws a bunch of words on the page, liberally slashes away at them with a red pen, and then replaces them with more different words. But I’ll get into that process more next week.
While this is my second public revision of the chapter, in reality, it’s probably the 117th version of it. Because I’m just. that. good.
So what’s different? A lot, actually. As I resumed working on the manuscript in early September, I realized the opening fell short in a number of areas. I didn’t give enough background to the protagonist. I didn’t hint enough as to why he was on this old lane. And I gave no hints at all what was inside the bookshop.
To that end, I pulled up a big section from Chapter Seven into the first chapter. Mostly, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the reader shouldn’t have to wait that long to see what was inside the shop.
I hope it’s better. One of the next steps will be to take this back to Scribophile and let them tear it apart offer constructive criticism. In the meantime, you can read it right away:
Last Saturday, Laura and I were out and about when chance brought us to BJ’s Restaurant & Brewhouse, an American restaurant chain, headquartered in Huntington Beach, California, with over two hundred locations nationwide. Not that you asked.
“I haven’t had that salad I like in a while!” she said.
“I haven’t spent thirty bucks for a light meal in a while!” I replied.
We headed in.
We’ll hit BJ’s Restaurant & Brewhouse a couple times a year. Mostly around dinner and mostly when there’s a twenty-or-more minute wait to eat. However, as chance would have it, we arrived around 4:30 in the afternoon.
“Wow,” I thought to myself. “I’m finally eating-dinner-at-four-thirty years old. That’s kinda sad.” But, then again, not having to wait twenty-or-more minutes for a small device to flash and vibrate before being seated is nice.
Given the hour, most of the restaurant stood empty. The only patrons in sight sat scattered in a semi-circle around the bar, eyes transfixed on the ubiquitous Sports Screens. By law in Texas, every public food and drink establishment must display at least six (6) Sports Screens per one hundred (100) customers or be subject to a fine.
We got our beverages. And after looking over the seventy-three page menu two or three times, the server came over and asked if we had any questions.
“What’s the soup du jour?” I asked.
“Well, that’s where every day we feature a different soup.”
“Cool, I’ll have the tomato bisque.”
On top of that, I ordered “flatbread.” Laura ordered the salad-what-brought-us-here.
My soup arrived quickly and it was both hot and tasty. I really should figure out how to make this at home. Later, our main dishes arrived just as Serena Williams fought the final minutes of battle with Bianca Andreescu. (We couldn’t hear it though, because, by Texas Law, the only audio emanating from the Sports Screens must come from The Football.)
Laura’s salad was pretty large. So much so, I think she only ate a quarter of it. My flatbread was pretty flat. It certainly sounded appealing, based on the menu description. But the dish that hit the table lacked greatly in toppings. The two end pieces were devoid of any toppings whatsoever, amounting to little more than thin, slightly-burnt toast.
I ate them anyway because — darn it — I paid for this. And it made sense to eat the worst parts first and save the bestest middle part for last. However, I was starting to fill up after only halfway through. That, on top of the soup, and I thought, “I’ll just have this later.”
The bill showed up. Including tip, the final total was around $43.
“Seriously?” I thought as I shook my head.
I realize for some people this might seem like nothing. But when it comes to food I’m as basic and frugal as it gets. For something so fleeting (and filling) as a simple meal, I can’t really enjoy a $100 version ten times more than a $10 version.
So we packed up our leftovers and finished running the day’s errands, which included a semi-hefty stop at The Home Depot, the largest home improvement retailer in the United States, with over twenty-two hundred locations in North America.
The next morning we get in the car. Rachel looks at the floor under the seat and asks, “Did you guys have some leftovers in here?”
“Seriously?” I thought as I shook my head.
Okay, so that $43 actually ended up paying for:
One quarter of a salad
A cup of soup
Two thin slices of slightly burnt toast
Iced tea
Oh, and the cost also went toward this blog post. So I guess it wasn’t a total loss.
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–> So what do I do about it? Well, hereās the other thing. I do something about it. And by āsomethingā I mean just that: the opposite of nothing. Last year I spent October prepping for November. I cranked out fifty thousand words in the first ten days of NaNoWriMo. I kept that momentum going, at least through January of this year. [TAKE HEED! THIS WAS A SPAM COMMENT LEFT ON CHARLIEHILLS.COM, WITH TEXT LIFTED DIRECTLY FROM MY OLD ELSEWHITHER.COM BLOG]
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It’s been a while! (for me) Here’s today’s:
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It’s hard to believe another year has come and gone.
“Wait a second, Charlie, what are you talking about? It’s only the first Friday in September? What ‘year’ just came and went?”
I’m glad you asked! Why it’s time once again for my annual Fan Mail post. Honestly, I feel bad that I only do this once a year. After all the trouble my fans go through to write me such endearing and inspirational letters, it’s a shame I don’t take more time to acknowledge their collective gift. So let’s jump right in:
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I’m assuming with question marks?
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Raspberry Clafouti Recipe + Bigger Picture.
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While, in theory, I’m in favor of link trade agreements, there’s just really too much uncertainty going on at the moment with escalating global trade war. I think it will be best if we ride out the current storm before entering into any trade agreements. I hope you understand approximately.
