I’ve taken a long breather from contributing to my Substack blog. Initially, my intent was to use it to promote a novel in the works tentatively titled Cut Loose. However, I put the novel on hold after I submitted my first draft to a professional reader, who said I needed to develop the main character and a plot. She recommended joining a critique group and taking a creative writing class. The group lost patience after I rewrote the first 20 pages several times, so I’ll wait until I can take a class at the nearby community college.
Writing the blog, Ken’s Second Act, was not easy to do once a week or more frequently. By the same token, I felt challenged when I wrote a weekly column at three different newspapers over the years. I felt constrained in part because I did not want to comment about stories that I reported on, lest readers perceived me as being biased. On occasion, I felt inspired and creative, and dabbled in humor whenever possible. I used satire to poke fun at small-mindedness and other human shortcomings. Using hidden meanings, I targeted a school superintendent, chamber of commerce officials and other civic leaders. I wrote one column after a school board, anticipating a teacher strike, set pay for substitute teachers at $125 a day. I wrote a hypothetical account where a fictional school district’s human resources staffer named Lois interviewed candidates for substitute teachers. Lois also was the name of the school district employee. The fictional Lois interviewed one candidate named Kent who sought the substitute position because he contemplated a career change. Lois was impressed with the candidate. At the end of the interview, she said, “That’s super, Clark.” The real-life Lois was not amused.
In a follow-up column, I wrote about teachers acquiring nuclear weapons and threatening to launch a nuclear teacher strike if their bargaining demands were not met. It was preposterous on its face, but I got my message across.
I got away with writing several satires. My boss acknowledged that he read several columns before he understood my hidden meanings. However, the intended targets often did. A bar owner, who was not an intended target, said I was being “vulpine,” a word that sent me to the dictionary. It means “crafty.”
Sometimes, I was more direct. In 1985, I wrote about going on a Colorado River cruise where I met a man nicknamed Horrible Harvey. The boat reached a point called Harvey’s Fishing Hole. “Where’s Harvey?” I asked the boat captain. “He’s not here,” Chuck responded. I met Harvey at the bar. A plasterer by trade, he was already plastered that morning. He made disparaging remarks about my two bosses, and kissed a male friend on the cheek. That evening, I went to a dance, and was happy Harvey did not ask me for the next dance.
Unfortunately, I did not do enough to conceal Harvey’s identity. A few weeks later, I went to lunch at a restaurant/bar. Upon entering the establishment, a man verbally assaulted me, and I immediately recognized him as Horrible Harvey. He said his ex-wife had shared the column with him. “You made me look like a ----ing faggot,” he said. Harvey was accompanied by a mean-looking friend who could have killed me in seconds. I felt like walking out, but the server advised me to stay. I related the incident to my bosses, who took it lightly but advised me to be careful because what I wrote could provoke reactions.
A majority of my weekly columns were mediocre, forgettable or even worse. My bosses reprimanded me for one column where I sounded elitist in which I criticized poor grammar among the readership. One reader took me to task, in which she also criticized my occasional self-indulgence. She later called me and we got to know each other. Their criticisms were valid. And regardless of how awful many of my columns were, they were well-read.
I have more freedom at Substack because I am not writing for conservative, small-town newspapers. I am my own editor and self-censor. However, my Substack blog also reaches far fewer readers. As in the case of when I wrote for a newspaper, I appreciate feedback. Please comment or share if you agree and let me know whether you don’t like it.
Ken's Second Act
Here’s to Ken’s second act! Keep writing, learning and growing. It’s a whole lot more fun than playing solitaire. Julie
Here’s to Ken’s second act! Keep writing, learning and growing. It’s a whole lot more fun than playing solitaire. Julie