a writer:  post 010

So after the meeting in the Sanglier tasting room this morning, and the tasting at Hartford Court (new ‘Wine Gem’ as I call tasting rooms and wineries I love, and this one just down the street from the Sanglier Room), then a drive out to Arista which was more or less pointless as I didn’t much talk to anyone, just having a splash of some single vineyard Chardonnay, I’m ready to begin my wine story–  MY.  Wine.  STORY.  And with that scope I think of what I’ll open the night Emma’s born, the newest add to our family, surely to be in our tasting room one day, in the office of bottledaux or vinovinevin, or one of my blog/wine/publishing ventures.  And as a writer, I’m not sure how I want to do all this, or even how, really.  BUT, I do know I have to keep writing.

Finishing my brunch, a takeout order from Piner Café, I was smart enough to order a coffee to go, having no K cups in this Autumn Walk base.  May rain outside, which is excellent writing weather– maybe I should write and brainstorm and evermore fantasize and envision my wine story at Hopper, the Starbucks.  Have held some fruitful and explosive sittings there, I can say…  I’m thinking about it too much, I know– and where’s that latest piece of paper where I wrote out my plans?  Hate how I misplace so much, I definitely blame the semester, the adjunct life, and most certainly Solano and to a lesser division Mendocino.  Think it’s out in the car but I can’t rise from this sitting, not till I reach the word count (and yes I’m targeting a number I know) I’m after, that I’m chasing..

Beginning to think the write should go to Hopper, write for a bit there before making my run to the store as I promised Ms. Alice.  Then I’ll get little Kerouac, and write the rest of the day, about fatherhood and being only days away from baby 2.  Life is moving faster than I can calculate, and I feel like Hem when he wrote the story was writing itself and he had difficulty keeping with it, capturing it all.  I’m right there with him, but I keep writing and try not to think about it too much, my wines and my wine story depend on my consistency and a tireless writer nature that I’ve never before lit.  And my new baby, Ms. Emma, depends on this revised draft of Mike Madigan, his alter’.. Mike Massamen.

While Solano was writing their practice exam responses yesterday, I started a project, “Massamen Sketches” At first it was THE Massamen Sketches, but I hate ‘the’ with too much presence on the page, especially in a title, so I pulled it. 

Putting extra 1’s in envelop, for winery or for business, just to put aside so the writer can’t touch them.. content content.. on my mind.. won’t get it at SBUX, so maybe I should drive down Piner and shoot vineyards, do something wined.  And tonight, only pieces, short writings on wines, specific wines I’ve tasted recently and that I’m convince propel character to palate.

The book Britt, Glenn’s assistant winemaker, showed me today after the meeting, while I tasted through the Room’s wines to make sure they were awake, and still civil and communicative, has me thinking, on writing my own position on wine, wine tasting, wine loving, wine life, and wine as a story only meant for the most inviting and open of sippers.  An extended thesis, or position piece.. on wine.

“Hmmm,” I think.  Shapes are beginning to take.  My winery’s closer than I think.

Time to do some money counting, reading, thinking, driving, content-pocketing.