Pat Mcgauley's Blog

TO PUBLISH OR . . . ?

My dilemma as the calendar turns to August tomorrow. Decisions have to be made.

Backdrop: my new novel, ‘The Last Chapter’ is ready to go to formatting and then to my publisher. The editing of the manuscript has been completed to my satisfaction . . . not necessarily to perfection. Whatever, I must decide whether or not to have the story published or wait until next year when ‘things’ have settled down. The Corona virus has changed all our lives and many of our plans for the remainder of the year — and possibly, longer.

Under ‘normal’ circumstances, I would have the new book ready for marketing sometime in mid-October which would leave me the month of November for the November craft sales here in Hibbing and other locations on the Iron Range.

I have not learned of event cancellations yet so the pessimist in me is of the mind that they will be cancelled. If not, attendance will likely be considerably less than normal. My bottom line is simple, my company’s budget will not afford me the opportunity to publish ‘The Last Chapter’ and a new story 2021.

The obvious question might seem to be; why is the marketing period so confined? My answer is simple, I spend much of the winter in Florida. And that reality is another part of the dilemma. I’m beginning to realize that my personal budget may require me to sell my place in Florida. (Or, sell my place in Hibbing). I have no bookstore outlets in the area and I’ve taken my books off of Amazon as well. Locally, I have two Hibbing outlets: the Sunrise Deli and Sullivan’s R&T Confections on Howard Street.

Further, I have asked my website manager to suspend the site until further notice. I love the site you are on if you are reading this post, but . . . the budget constraints. The site has not been effective in terms of readership or sales. So this message may be my last for a while.

Finally, the new book will be the last of the Father Mickey adventures. I like the story and how it ends. Writing it was a new experience for me as I wrote in the first person for the first time. So I had the experience of being Mickey while writing over these past several months. Until next time if there is one, nothing is set in stone; thus the question mark in the title of my post.

Feel free to comment.

Pat

ADMISSIONS

For most of my adult life, the news has been as much a part of my every day as eating and drinking. Essential. I would place only reading behind the news as vital parts of my daily regimen. Up until the past few years the pronouncement, ” . . . it’s true, I read it in the paper . . .” held validity. (As did “I saw on Walter Cronkite.)” Not so anymore.

News has become commentary with a kernel of reality — reality being what the network considers to be true. Mostly it’s not even subtle commentary. And if it’s the truth, and it’s positive at the same time, it somehow becomes unnewsworthy. If you watch CSNBC and I watch Fox News we might as well live on different planets. OK, I watch Fox and, on rare occasions, one of the three major networks. All as liberal as CNN. And, I listen to Rush when I’m free between 11:00 a.m. and 2:00 p.m. But I can change my mind on issues. For years I didn’t buy into the climate change debate. Now I do.

Despite my admissions, I consider myself to be a solid American citizen and still get goose-bumps when I hear the National Anthem, and tears with a good rendition of God Bless America. Yes, I’m generally conservative on moral issues like abortion, and I believe in a strict interpretation of the Constitution and Bill of Rights. I’m liberal on all of our basic civil rights — including peaceful demonstration. Race, religion, gender don’t matter a bit to me. I’m Catholic but accept, and respect, your beliefs or lack of. We’re all different in a thousand ways.

I abhor violence and those who engage in it. The media loves it. And skillfully put their own spin on it.

They love a scandal, too. The belief that Trump won because of Russian intervention was just the beginning of the attempt to strip him of his allegedly illegitimate presidency. Then it was impeachment. When that failed we had the pandemic — a tragedy that wouldn’t have happened if Trump has acted quickly and decisively. When COVID was becoming a bore, George Floyd was murdered by a Minneapolis cop (while 3 other cops stood by). Floyd’s death had ramifications around the world leaving death and destruction in its wake. The cops involved should, and will, be put in prison for a long time. Sadly, that, however, will never change the havoc they caused. Add to all that, once again the police are the target of anti-establishment forces across the country. I can’t imagine NYC with the demands for fewer police and a slashed budgets. How can ‘reform’ become abolition? I won’t even go into the recent purging of our historical monuments or Mayor Deblassio joining the artists painting ‘Black Lives Matter’ in huge letters at the front of the Trump Tower where the first family lives.

I’ve vented. In sharing my perspective I did not intend to sermonize nor to make myself out to be a better person than anybody who reads this editorial. I am so far from perfection that I pray for a forgiving God every day. I’m 78 and a grampa to six wonderful grandkids. I worry about the world we are bequeathing to them. The debts are one problem but it is diminished by the possibility of their having to learn Chinese.

PRIESTS

I was born a Catholic. Generations of both parents were Catholic — some devout I’d imagine, some not so much. My Grandmother McGauley was devout as were both my mom and dad. Naturally, I went through all the sacraments including marriage (later annulled by the Catholic Church) and before cancer surgery I had my last rites.

Growing up it was Mass every Sunday, and when of age, Holy Communion every Sunday. I feared what my mother would say if I didn’t receive it. I was an altar boy for years and went to Catholic School.

When I went off to college there was some slippage. But when I came home on vacation it was off to the confessional so that I could be ‘pure of heart and soul’ for Sunday. To be honest, for most of my adult life I was a practicing Catholic without any serious thought or commitment. I read Scripture at Mass for a few years but when we got new priests I didn’t volunteer. I support the church financially but I do not tithe. I have gone on retreats and joined a prayer group for a few years.

Priests have made quite a difference in my life and the lives of most Catholics. Two of the priests I was closest to and got to know the best were on the list of 47 who were on the list of ‘sexual abusers’ in the Diocese of Duluth. When I retired in 2000, I began going to daily mass. About ten years ago I had an opportunity to spend much of the winter in Naples, Florida. My daily mass routine continued. There were some priests that really inspired and some who weren’t that impressive. Sometimes the priest was more of the attraction than the message he delivered.

When I started writing my seventh novel I created a priest named Father Mickey Moran. In my story and subsequent stories, I had a priest of my own creation. I continued with Mickey for six more novels that were sequential and set in the year they were written. Now I am working on a seventh story but am doing so in the first person which I have never done before. In a literary sense, I am a priest.

I have been asked many times: “Where do you get your story ideas?” I usually answer that it just comes if I don’t try to force it. Often I surprise myself. But there is a truth that I don’t readily share. I pray before I write. More specifically, I ask the Holy Spirit to guide me as I go along. I believe, therefore, that I have been given a gift. I try not to make any story what might be considered Catholic theology. Mickey could well have been a Protestant minister. Go too heavy on religion and lose your readership.

I have missed going to church mass during the COVID pandemic. So, early every morning before writing, I watch the daily mass on the Catholic TV Network. It’s good but not the same by any stretch. I look forward to returning to Blessed Sacrament Mass in the very near future — perhaps this coming Sunday?

MEMORIAL DAY: 2020

As I get older I appreciate each day more. Being retired when some say ‘every day is a Saturday’ is a trite way to look at life. Every day is a gift. And with the Coronavirus pandemic even more so. Anyhow it’s a Monday and the last Monday of May. But, more than that, it is Memorial Day. For most it makes for a long weekend and an opportunity the go fishing, work in the garden, mow the lawn, or do a million things a day off from work allows. (For many there have been far too many days off these past several weeks. My heart goes out to those who have been furloughed or lost their jobs).

Memorial Day this year will be different in that there will be few displays of patriotism — no ceremonies at cemeteries, no parades, and few signs of appreciation for those who deserve our highest appreciation. . . the men and women who gave their lives for our freedom. Think about that reality for a long moment today. They were mostly young with the dreams of youth — a sweetheart, marriage, family, a home, or maybe a college degree. Whatever their hopes may have been, they served our country first and foremost. As an American, I pray: “May God give each of them an eternal peace in his heavenly kingdom.” God bless us all, and our fallen heros in a special way.

It’s All About Me

I just finished a neighborhood walk — 8 blocks — and forgot to begin by facing north and into the wind and it’s 25mph gusts. The last few blocks were torturous. My face still burns. It’s been about 15 degrees below normal with strong winds for the past several days. Splashes of sun help but . . . In the past I would be prepping the garden this time of the year. Minnesota!

Being homebound hasn’t been a problem.

I have the same routine here as I did since February in Florida.

I hate to watch the economy tank but feel worse for those out of work.

I go back and forth on whether the country should reopen before it’s too late — then I think protecting our people is the highest priority.

I dread the debt we’re passing on.

I miss the Twins games.

I find I watch movies more and the news less. If I watch CNN and then turn to Fox, it’s like going from one planet to another.

I don’t know what to believe.

Mostly, I fear that we’re in this situation much longer than originally thought. A vaccine will come but I don’t know if I’d be willing to take it.

I’m old and vulnerable.

I write for 3 hours every morning, And I like the new story. Still untitled.

I think about selling my place in Florida but wonder if I can take a Minnesota winter. I’ve been heading south for ten years now.

For me the major attraction of being in Naples is that I’m 45 minutes from the Twins spring training site.

Damn. This was going to be their year.

The beaches and the sun are good but the traffic in SW Florida is horrific in season — December to April.

The 2000 mile drive is a killer. Lots of crazies on the highway,

*My new story is being written in the first person. Never done it before and it took weeks and countless delete and start-overs. I take the role of the protagonist. So I am Mickey, the priest from Hibbing and the main character in 7 previous novels. You may have noted that ‘I’ or ‘Me’ dominate this post. My writing is rubbing off on my living. My psychologist, however, assures me that we all think of everything in terms of our self.

I am going to try to post a blog of some sort every week. Soon I’ll be meeting with my website manager to upgrade the site and have a better connection with my readers and whoever finds me.

I might even get into areas that some find offensive. These days everything political is divisive. So be it. I also might get into religion. Politics and Religion the two taboos. Suffice it to say in advance, my political persuasions have cost me facebook friends and snubs from people I once thought to be friends. Oh well. What will be will be. I’ll end by sending a ‘God Bless’ to each of you.

Gee It’s great to Be Back Home Again . . .

. . . it feels like I’ve found a long lost friend.

I left Florida in mid-April amidst a string of record-setting days in 90’s — with humidity it was too much for a Minnesota kid. I did bring back a rough draft of my next story and have been working on the re-write every day. It’s been tedious but I’m feeling better about the changes. Enough said for now.

Being home is a state of mind. Believe me that after palm trees and smooth streets and new construction everywhere, Hibbing fails to impress. It’s not just the aging process, it’s the demographics. Buildings are being torn down and new ones aren’t being built. Yet when summer blooms these things don’t seem to matter. I only hope it is summer when we can enjoy get-togethers, our lakes, and all the things that make a Northern Minnesota summer like nowhere else I’ve been. Until then, however, stay safe.

In the back of my thoughts, I’ve been wrestling with something that I go back and forth with. I love my little place in Florida and there are days when I can see myself there for months every winter. Then there are days when I feel that Minnesota is home and I miss the winters that have been a part of my life since childhood. The market for sales there is hot, here not so much. I could use the money to do some upgrades here, and travel. I don’t have too many years left and there are places I’d like to see. Another factor is that when I’m gone for months I leave Gail with all the work of keeping up the house and moving the snow. It’s not fair. She’s not built for snow like we had up here last winter . . . and she’s just retired. I’ve had trouble deciding the path to travel. Florida is more healthy for me — I can bike and hike and comb the beaches. And the snow can become monotonous.

I’ve spent some time in my backyard flower garden and realized that all the cleanup has given me a sore back and a sore everything. I hate to admit it’s becoming a chore. And I still have about 3 bags of Miracle-Gro and 6 bags of mulch to spread. Yet I still get a thrill out of watching the perennials poke through the ground. And the plethora of color in the summer is redemptive. Writing and gardening. I haven’t even found it a problem to be homebound through the pandemic.

I’m looking forward to upgrading my website so that friends and readers can make a better connection with me. I do enjoy talking about my stories — even the things people don’t like. Feedback is important and inspiring. If I get comments through the site I know I will do much more blogging. Not just about my books but about life in general. That includes politics and religion. So, lets try to make it work. Until next time . . . Pat.

HELP!

I communicated with my website manager a short time ago. He suggested a major overhaul to bring it up with the times. I agreed to meet with him when I returned to Hibbing, probably in April. One thing I am aware of is that I am not getting any comments regarding my blog page — with one exception.

Now I’m asking a favor of anybody that finds this site to comment on it. My in-mail box seems to have died and the Coronavirus is not to blame.

Please, please give me your input. Thanks.

Pat

PS: Just go to the ‘Contact’ page to send your message.

Kent Krueger’s in my Neighborhood

It was an ideal Saturday afternoon down here in SW Florida and a special day for me as well. Fort Myers was hosting their annual Reader’s Convention at the local library. The event was huge as many well-known authors had been invited. I noticed in the local paper that my old friend, Kent Krueger was among those authors so I emailed him to see if his schedule there had any gaps so we could get together and have a cup of coffee. He responded the next day. I met Kent right after arriving and we visited briefly as he was going on stage in a few minutes then signing books afterward.

Kent was promoting his latest novel, ‘This Tender Land’, which has been on the NYTimes best-seller list for weeks. His presentation was remarkable. Insightful at times, humorous at times, and compelling in every way. If you’ve met him, you know he’s a genuinely nice man as well as a gifted writer. I’ve always known that we have much in common in terms of story themes: he has his Cork O’Conner series, I have Father Mickey, we are both spiritually inspired, respectful of indigenous cultures (Ojibwa), and set our stories in the North Country. One big difference, however, is that he’s a huge success and I’m not. We talked about that and many other things. I told him that I didn’t aspire to become an international success. I’ve looked at his schedule and see how much travel he is required to do. (He was in Miami the day before and will be in San Diego next Saturday). I’m perfectly content to have a regional readership that requires little travel and few events. He’s mentioned that some of his readers have told him that they find similarities in our works. Ironically one thing I was most surprised to learn was that he taught cultural anthropology years ago — just as I had.

Kent’s latest work is titled ‘This Tender Land’. I’ve read it and recommend it highly. It’s a stand-alone novel with Minnesota roots. I must add, his presentation tent was jammed overcapacity (I guessed about 800 or more people) and the line for his book-signing was two blocks long.

We had lunch and talked about writing for an hour or so before Kent had to do a second signing. We parted with wishes for continued success. His publisher has him under contract for two more novels and he has one soon to be released. I, on the other hand, have no contracts, no deadlines, no presentations on my schedule, However, like Kent, I woke up this morning and worked on my next novel for three hours. Mine is not going smoothly and I’ll have to do two more rewrites before heading home. I fear a couple 6 hour days lie ahead as I hope to head north at the end of next month. Anyhow it’s too hot outside. I don’t know how to post a picture on my website so I’ll post a picture of Kent and I on Facebook.

How Time Passes

It’s been quite some time since my last posting so there is much to share.

I’m writing from Naples, Florida again this winter so I’ve missed a lot of snow I’m told. Just between you and me — I miss the snow. Yes we have sun almost every day, I’m a bike ride from the Gulf beaches, and we’ve broken records for heat several times this month. It’s already my 10th year down here and 5 in my own place. Weather aside, my routines are about the same every year which means I’m writing daily (early mornings) and enjoying the sun in the afternoons. Writing what?, you might ask? I’ll start with that.

I’ve had lots of positive feedback on ‘Lester’s Gift’ and Adam Trygg as my lead character and, God willing, I’d like to do another Adam story. However, my priority is to finish with my Father Mickey series. Yes, finish. The last Mickey story is unique. For the first time I’m writing Mickey in the first tense — in other words, I’m Mickey telling the story. I struggled with the change from third person to first for more than a month but finally got some traction in late January. Despite a few interruptions, I’ve hit the keyboard daily. (Some days run smoothly, others are a headache).

Hopefully, a yet untitled novel will be published by late summer.

One interruption was a trip to Ireland courtesy of my daughter. Erin finally has a beau and I’ve come to like him very much. His name is Josh and he helped with the costs of our foursome–Erin, Jack (Erins college sophomore son), Josh and I. We drove from west from Dublin to Galway, south to Cork, and a small town Kilkenny, before returning to Dublin and a tour of the Guiness Brewery. Yes we visited many pubs! In fact in a town in central Ireland (Athloon) we spent an afternoon in the oldest pub in the world; a place called Seans first built in 700 AD. It’s verified. I hadn’t been to Ireland in 40 years so it was special.

And, a group of us went to a Willie Nelson concert in Fort Myers. He was awesome, despite his serious health issues. Now, I’ll take some breaks to head up to the Twins spring training fields and check out some of the new faces. Big things this year.

I’m sure many of you are envious but I do get spells of homesickness. Gail is tending the fort while I’m gone and she’s moved a ton of snow. One good thing, however, is that she is now retired and doesn’t have to get her car out of the garage to get to work in the morning anymore. She’s a blessing. I’m always struck by how fast time passes. I think I’ll be over 70 next month.

Speaking of blessings. Writing this Mickey story has been a unique spiritual trip for me. With all the divisiveness in the news I’ve taken a deeper look at the blessings in my life — especially my three children and six grandkids. Shannon was down to visit for a few days, Chris (Tiffer) is holding his own with the new moving company — January and February are tough for small businesses, and Erin has a good job and less stress in her life. I could brag about my grandkids for hours.

I hope to share my goings-on more often and plan to head north toward the end of April. Count your blessings and thank God for them every day. And to my friends with cancer and other health issues I keep you in my prayers.

Feel free to comment. I’d love to hear from you via this site.

An Author’s delight

One may think that an author’s delight might be the completion of a new story. You would be correct. Or, you might think that the author’s delight is returning from a book-signing event with a significant profit. Again you would be right. And it’s always a delight to hold a new book in your hands for the first time. This year I’ve experienced all of the above and, as tedious as I know it will be, I hope for the same experiences in 2020.

However, last night I had a delight unlike most. I enjoy talking about my books, about writing, and almost any topic I’m invited to speak on. A few weeks ago I spoke to the ‘Range Genealogical Society’ at their monthly meeting at the Eveleth library. My topic was “On becoming a Ranger” and it was fun to review my life on the Range as an older man who happened to have been born in Duluth. In my younger days in Hoyt Lakes, where I graduated high school, I was considered a ‘pack-sacker’ by my new classmates from Aurora. I didn’t like it but realized the deep feelings that those born on the Range have about being unique. It is an interesting topic and my audience was divided on the legitimacy of my considering myself a ‘Ranger’.

Last night I was invited to speak at the Lyric Center for the Arts in Virginia. It was terribly cold and a few people came simply to purchase my new book and have it signed. I encouraged them to stick around for a few minutes and talk about the new story. The group swelled to about twelve to enjoy a cup of coffee and conversation. I quickly learned that most had read all of my books over the years — all thirteen previous novels! (I’m always flattered about that, but especially so in the relaxed setting of the Lyric). I gave a brief presentation on ‘Lester’s Gift’ and why I wrote it. There were several questions about the writing life which was expected. But then a lady asked, “What happened to Lucy?” Lucy was a character in several recent novels.

“She met with a terrible death,” was the best I could say. Then is became obvious to her and her husband that they had missed a book. “That’s not possible,” the wife insisted. “I’ve read every one of your books.”

After explaining the circumstances surrounding Lucy’s death it became obvious that the missing book was last year’s drama: ‘Waiting’. Over the course of an hour or so we talked about other books and other characters in the stories. That’s what was fun. No, that was delightful.

On the drive back to Hibbing I had good feelings about myself. I have brought a sense of joy, intrigue, drama and every human emotion to many people. I’ve often said that ‘I write to be read . . . and, hopefully, enjoyed. Last night I received some needed feedback and for that, I am both grateful and delighted.

Blessings.