I have always liked your writing but I need to know what it was like when you started. What was your office setup? I think this will help me understand what it takes to be a professional writer. I am specifically interested in what equipment you used when you started.
Signed,
A beginning writer
Dear A beginning,
You do realize that the equipment has nothing to do with your writing, don’t you? They used to chicken scratch with quill pens on parchment, right? Still, I will show you the humble beginnings of my office but I doubt any of it will help you.
That is an all metal Kaypro II computer with a 9 inch green phosphorous monochrome display that I used for 12 years and damn near burned my retinas out. It had dual floppy disc drives and the best keyboard I have ever used, bar none. This computer weighed 27 pounds but was “portable” in that it could fit under an airplane seat. There is also a dot matrix printer, a box of 5 ¼ inch floppy discs on top of a hollow core door laid on top of file cabinets. My “bookcase” was atop a block of wood. Aside from the picture of my dog on the desk, the poster of motorcycles on my wall was the only decoration, but I suggest you get something more motivational, perhaps a cat hanging from a bar that says, Hang In There. The chair was usable but not great, although I could lean back which made me look like a real thinker to those passing by. My window looked out onto a driveway, not very inspiring, but then again it was never a distraction to my work. I wrote books, screenplays and teleplays on that computer. I still have it as a matter of fact. But again, none of this is pertinent to you becoming a writer, unless your office happens to have cheap fake wood paneling and a window that looks out onto a driveway. Heck, then you’re in like Flint.
February 3, 2026
A very attractive neighbour came over to “borrow a cup of sugar”. It was such a trope I had to wonder if it wasn’t a euphemism for something else. Sugar, you say? She claimed she was baking a pie and ran out. Uh huh. She couldn’t go to the store because her car wouldn’t start. You don’t say. One more cup ought to do it. I see. I write movies and I can certainly recognize a meet-cute scenario. Was she really after sugar or something else?
Two hours later my suspicions were confirmed when she came over with a piece of pie for me. Ah ha, another meet-cute trope! Feed him and he’ll love you forever! I dunno, maybe I had too much coffee this morning.
February 4, 2026
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Because of the incontinent orange gasbag
America is swirling down his fetid gold toilet
Flush him
February 5, 2026
I pulled off a coup this morning, puff puff. Of course, I can’t tell you what I did, how I did it or who the coup was against, but it was magnificent and worthy and so very very clever and good. Those who were couped would probably say it was underhanded, foul and borderline criminal, but what do they know, they’re the losers. Cry babies, eh.
February 6, 2026
Overheard two teenagers at a coffee shop.
-- I thought your mom said you couldn’t drink any more coffee.
-- She did but I need the buzz.
-- For what?
-- Anything and everything. She thinks I get too hyped up on it. She says I’m gonna have a heart attack.
-- Marsha, you are kinda high strung.
-- I’m thinking of trying meth.
-- Meth is addictive, coffee isn’t.
-- I gotta have my fix. Funny thing is, I don’t even like the taste of coffee. I just like the buzz. There’s no taste to meth.
-- Yeah, but after a while you won’t have a nose anymore, Marsha.
-- Tradeoffs, Jill. I’m in it for the rush.
February 7, 2026
I heard that a certain someone was interested in my novel, Write About Dogs, for a movie option. So I sent him the book. Crickets. No response. I moved on. Quite a bit later, I get a phone call from the guy. He took so long because he couldn’t see it as a movie. I had no interest in convincing him I could write a justifiable screenplay, so I thanked him for his time and moved on. A bit later, another phone call. He can’t stop thinking about the book, but how could I make it into a movie? I told him if he contracted for the option, I would write a treatment to show him my intentions. But again, he dithered. Again, I moved on. Yes, there was finally a third and last phone call. If he tales the option, could I then do the treatment. I told him that that ship had sailed. I would only write the screenplay now, no more preliminaries. He said he would have to check with his partners. There will not be a fourth phone call because if someone isn’t enthusiastic and committed about a collaborative project, why should I be?
February 8, 2026
I went into some offices to talk about a financial investment. The front of the offices had everyone’s desk out in the open and you could hear all kinds of conversations about other people’s finances and holdings. I told the guy that I was uncomfortable with such a public display and could we talk in private somewhere. He says sure, leads me to the back of the offices, opens a door, and we enter the building’s boiler room. What? He brings in two chairs and sits down expecting us to discuss this investment possibility. I said, Dude, we’re sitting in a boiler room. Is this not the embodiment of a marginal company? What kind of impression did you think this would engender? Just then the boiler kicked on and we had to yell to be heard. I told him this was ridiculous, we were done here and I hoped he could see why. He agreed that it was a poor impression. And that was that.
February 10, 2026
She moved to a new town and joined a new church. The right wing political crap spewed by the new pastor turned her off to religion. But through that act she was able to find her own way, seeing that these needless black frocked fake gurus telling her how to vote and how to live the hateful right wing way was nothing she wanted to emulate. Ironically, in discovering how biased religion can be, she became her own council, just like god intended.
February 11, 2026
I needed to buy something so I checked online and found that though the item prices might be a tad cheaper than shopping local, there were additional delivery charges and all the delivery times were anywhere from 3 weeks to 2 months ahead. Why, when I can spend a few bucks more and have it today, do the online retailers think I’d be willing to wait an ungodly amount of time to save $4.33? I don’t get it. But I did get it. Locally. Take that.
February 12, 2026
Question: At what point will Americans get tired of supporting this cadre of political losers, sycophants, incompetents, criminals and grifters? Discuss.
February 14, 2026
Overheard two women.
-- What did Frank get you for Valentines Day?
-- Nothing. He didn’t even know about it.
-- That’s too bad.
-- Frank doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body. What did Chuck get you?
-- A crappy box of Russell Stover candy. I think he bought it at the gas station.
-- We’re married to a couple of Neanderthals.
-- Carly, should Valentines Day be such a big deal? Are we making too much of it?
-- What do you mean?
-- Isn’t this just a made-up holiday for Hallmark and candy makers to sell more product?
-- Yeah. So?
-- I don’t know. Getting mad at our husbands for not honouring us on a fake holiday seems kind of spurious.
-- I don’t know what that word means but I would love champagne, flowers and good candy from a caring husband. Unfortunately, I don’t have one. Fuck Frank, you know?
-- I guess.
February 15, 2026
2nd (dubious) LETTER OF THE MONTH
Dear Keith,
Now don’t hate on me because I already wrote you once this month (and achieved the vaunted status of Letter of the Month!) But now I have another request. My girlfriend wants to get married and wants me to wear a tux. I can’t stand the thought. If I may, what did you wear on your wedding day? You are someone I respect and I would like to see if you too wore a tux. I know this sounds stupid…
Signed,
A beginning writer about to get married
Dear Beginning,
Am I being catfished? Everything in me tells me to ignore your request. I mean, come on.
Dear Keith,
I swear I am being serious. I am not catfishing you.
Dear Beginning,
Is that not what someone would say who IS catfishing me?
Dear Keith,
It’s simple for me. If you didn’t wear a tux, then I don’t feel I have to either. My girlfriend is all caught up in the wedding stuff and I have very little say about what she is planning. I can only tell her what I am going to wear. That’s it.
Dear Beginning,
Jesus. Ok, my wife and I eloped. I think I was wearing jeans.
All I can tell you is you need to forge your own path. Emulating mine is a dead end, a brick wall, a road to nowhere. If you want to be a writer, write. If you want to dress yourself, wear what you want. Please don’t write again or I may have to get rude. Best wishes on your career and nuptials. Did I already say don't write again?
February 16, 2026
Her youngest child was a demon. He loved starting fires and nothing she nor her husband could do would deter him from the flames. He had already burned up the chicken coop, a storage shed and started his latest fire in the kitchen with his mother’s prized recipes going all the way back to her grandmother. Fed up, they took the kid to a shrink, but he quit, saying the child was too dangerous after he set an office trashcan on fire from a lit cigarette the kid was smoking. They sent him away to military school but he incinerated a barracks and they sent the boy back. The parents were afraid he would burn down their house after they caught him smoking in bed. What could they do? Suggestions?
Benny from Seattle – Have the little bastard join ICE. They are torching America, he would fit right in.
Carol from Sault Ste. Marie – Show him more love. Then, if he continues to burn stuff, show him tough love and cut off his hands.
Arnold from Timmins – Put him in a sanitarium until he turns 50. Don’t give him any matches either, I think that might be the root cause for all the fires.
Jean from Dallas – Why are his parents letting him smoke?! He could die young! Wait, is that their strategy?
Jenny from Duluth – I’d beat the living tar out of the little shit. I’d tell him the next fire he starts he’s going to be thrown in it.
Mike from Daytona – That shrink was an incompetent tool. Get a good one. Take him to a real professional. If that doesn’t work, cut off his hands like that other lady said.
Alistair from London – Sounds like a perfect subject for a lobotomy. They still do those these days?
Kitty from Nashville – Stick some firecrackers up his little butt. Burning him in the ass may save y’all from burning up in a house fire.
Polly from Brazil – Lose him in a crowd. Bring him to Carnival in Rio and go home without him. The pissant burns up a favela here, they will teach him real good not to do that again.
Sander from Denver – Find some witches and have them do an anti-fire spell on him. If you can’t find any witches, get a hypnotist to get him to quit starting fires. If you can’t find a hypnotist, get an exorcist to remove the devil from him. If you can’t get an exorcist, THEN cut off his hands.
February 18, 2026
She wanted to kill her husband and his entire family. She had gone to Belize for a three week training session for work and when she got back she found that her husband and his family had indoctrinated her naive teenage son into the right wing cult of stupidity and ignorance. The boy was now spouting off against immigrants, gays, the disaffected and the poor. He now claimed that that little greasy chump Barron was his role model. In three weeks he had been corrupted and was now a spiteful mini soldier of the right. She tried to reason with him but like all conservative cultists, he refused to listen to anything making any sense. Unable to live with this betrayal, she took some guns from her husband’s vast collection and killed everyone in his family after inviting them over for a night of charades. Nah, just kidding. She poisoned them all with popcorn tainted with arsenic. Then she moved to Belize, abandoning the American dream, just as her family had done.
February 19, 2026
I was having pumpkin pie for breakfast. As I was eating, I got a call from a nutritionist saying she has just heard I was having pie for breakfast. What?! How did she know- She told me there is a hotline for breakfast abusers such as myself. She said my name is on a list. She urged me to reconsider my breakfast choice. She suggested oatmeal. I told her the pie was delicious, I was not going to eat oatmeal, and then demanded to be taken off the breakfast abuser list. She laughed haughtily. She said I have been known to encourage others to eat chocolate for breakfast – Chocolate! she shrieked, and for that egregiousness I have a red star next to my name. I would have protested more but my mouth was full. When she hung up she said, I’ll be watching. I immediately looked around for a camera in my kitchen. What?! How?! The nanny state is out of control! Come on, who’s with me?
February 19, 2026
I was busy and couldn’t take the time to answer the door when someone knocked. By the time I got around to it, they were gone. Many people would wonder what they had missed, but not me. I’m living in the moment see. Past door knocks are like lost memories; you don’t wonder where they went, they’re just gone. Poof. Did that make sense?
February 21, 2026
Have you sat down and thought about your life and why it is the way it is? Or have you instead just blamed others, thought there was nothing you could do to change your circumstances or just figured it is what it is? These two distinctly different approaches to living a life are proof to you that either one is working or it isn’t.
February 23, 2026
It’s been a busy couple of days and I have to go out of town again today. Ugh. Hopefully tomorrow will be better. See you then.
February 24, 2026
Overheard two tourists out of town.
-- Canada sure is expensive.
-- I can’t believe how much stuff costs.
-- Good thing we have a decent exchange with the Canadian dollar.
-- If Sweden was this expensive, I’d move to Finland.
-- But we use the Krona and they use the Euro. You’d still have to exchange your money.
-- Why isn’t there a world currency instead of this stupid exchange rate stuff?
-- You might as well ask why the sun doesn’t shine at night.
-- Huh?
-- Exactly.
February 25, 2026
It was Julie’s birthday but Dan, her husband, forgot. Upset, she went on social media and ranted about her lame spouse, encouraging her followers to flame her awful, forgetful husband. Attacked, Dan got mad so he too raved on social media about his shrewish, vindictive wife. So instead of talking between themselves to air their personal grievances, this couple went public, rooting on their slavish followers to denigrate their partners to what, feel vindicated? loved? understood? what? Does this do anything to negate the inescapable conclusion that social media is a toxic crapfest?
February 26, 2026
It’s almost Spring in British Columbia. Uh oh.
February 27, 2026
Overheard a man plotting on the phone.
-- When it hits 8 o’clock, the alarm will go off and they will all scramble. I will watch them trip over each other trying to get out and I’ll be laughing my ass off the whole time.
--
-- What? Yeah, a few might get hurt, some could even perish, but that won’t stop me from laughing. I hate those people and their suffering will give me nothing but pleasure.
--
-- What? I don’t care. Their lives mean nothing to me.
--
-- What? Turn me in? You’re gonna turn me in?! You better start running now because if I catch you-
--
-- What? What do you mean you already called it in? You bastard! You’re next on my list!
--
-- Don’t be stupid, they can’t arrest me for something that hasn’t happened yet.
--
-- Can not.
--
-- Can not. I’ll get you for this, Larry. I will tear you from limb to- Don’t hang up on me! Don’t you dare hang up! Larry? You bastard!
