I have pounded my rewrites. The Venice Scene 2025 is ready to publish, now 22 chapters. My brain was punked-out after that project. I needed a break from Joe's drama.
On the day Postcards began on Wattpad, 3/5, we flew to Boston for a Celtics game versus the Sixers. I hadn't been to the Boston Garden since the late 90s. I moved west in 2002 with a vow to never return in the winter. I have booked all my visits to New England around a Red Sox summer home stand. There is always a game at Fenway. I had to go back for a Celtics game. I'm not getting any younger. This could be my last time.
We stayed near Long Wharf at the Blue Line Aquarium station, one block from Quincy Market and the Freedom Trail, the pubs and tourist traps. Our first meal was at Legal Seafood. It's a great location except we awoke to 31 with a windchill of 17. The wind whipped off the harbor down State Street.
"What the fuck? I swore I would never come back during the winter. And I forget my goddamn isotoner gloves."
March is a gamble in New England. It could be winter or spring. I lost that bet. That said, we had a blast. The game was great. The Celtics won. We hit the pubs and pre-gamed with Boston boneheads at Sullivan's across from the Garden. I wanted a dive bar, not sterile corporate. It was dark, dingy, and your soles stuck to the floor. We had a few drinks, busted balls, and made fun of New York. Thank you Boston for having a subway system, so we didn't have to walk across town. We ate seafood every meal except for breakfast.
The next frigid and blustery day, we boarded warm and toasty, and comfortable Amtrak, South Station, to Penn Station, NYC. No fucking TSA bullshit. Walk on the train. Find your seat. Someone will get around to checking your ticket once we get moving. Enjoy the ride in your wide seat with plenty of leg room. Don't worry, no seat belts required.
From Penn Station, it's the C train to the F train to see the kids in Brooklyn. It was our first visit with the newest grandson. They are the most amazing children you've ever seen. Your grandkids are brats. My three are the best brats. We found an Airbnb three blocks from them, perfectly quiet when we needed it. We had fours days in town packed with activities because that's how my son and DIL roll on weekends.
There were three train rides into the city in two days. Essex Market, Kat's Deli, a playground for the kids, and the Tenement Museum on the Lower East Side were day one. That evening, my son and I went to Midtown to the theater district to see Hamilton at the Will Rogers Theater.
I have seen Hamilton four times on Disney+ with subtitles because the rap can get away from me. Now I know it well, and I love Hamilton. Seeing it live on Broadway was amazing. My kid bought eighth row seats for my birthday. Live theater is emotional for me.
I'm reassessing my New York pizza opinion after grabbing a couple of not so great slices. We had two whole pies when we first arrived in town, very good, but slices on the run are a crap shoot. Just because it's New York doesn't make every pizza good. That slice has been lying around for how long? They toss it in the oven for seven minutes while you stand around. The cheese is never melty enough. The crust might get soggy. Give me a whole pie fresh out of the oven, thankyouverymuch.
That was day one. On day two, we did the westside walking The Highline from Hudson Yards, a playground for the kids, to Chelsea Market, and The West Village. In Boston, Brooklyn and Manhattan, we walked our asses off. That trip was planes, buses, many subways rides in two cities, Amtrak, and Ubers to airports. I didn't drive for a week. And my feet hurt when I got home.
Then I opened Sunset '77 and soon realized it was much closer to being ready than I recalled. I wrote sixteen chapters in November, story done, and then did a light second pass. As I began reading last week, it felt like I was seeing it for the first time. It all came back to me, of course, but there were many moments of discovery.
"Oh, shit. I forgot I did that. Nice."
"I love this character. Maybe I should give him a bigger role?"
My partner had a busy day with appointments and errands and a PHX Suns game in the afternoon. And it was her turn to cook dinner. I cook six nights a week. That day, I was off. I had a twelve hour writing marathon where I basically finished ten chapters, rewrote, added dialogue and new scenes. It's incredible what ideas come in the rewrite process. The first draft is never the best version. The late chapters took a few more days because I had more work to do with them. Sunset '77 is now ready to publish and I'm already writing new material for Kat's next case.
The question is; do I publish The Venice Scene next or Sunset '77?
I do not yet have an answer. I will post something in early April after Postcards are done.