Happenings

June Event(s)

I’ll be speaking at the Chuckanut Writers Conference in Bellingham, WA, June 25-27. I’ll be delivering a talk to the entire conference about platform building in a post-social media world titled … wait for it … Rage Against the Algorithm. And I’ll also be heading up a breakout session of sorts about the art of the interview.

July Event(s)

I’ll be speaking at the Arlington Club in Portland, July 14, 9 a.m., to talk about The Front Runner and my failure to secure a follow up, lol.

August Event(s)

I’ll be giving a lecture on unauthorized biography at the Eugene Public Library, Saturday, August. 1, 3 p.m. Free and open to the pub.

The Riff

It’s been quite a two-week stretch.

On April 18, I recorded a live podcast with the mighty Lidia Yuknavitch to about 40-45 people at Gratitude Brewing. You can listen to the conversation wherever you get your podcasts. She’s the best.

Then on Saturday, April 25, I delivered a keynote at the Eugene Public Library’s fundraiser. “Stories Among the Stars” was the theme, so they wanted me to talk about Steve Prefontaine and tie it back to libraries and pressure people to pay up. I recorded the speech and will have that available on the podcast feed soon. I used my skills as a master self-deprecator to get a good laugh at the top.

The following morning was, of course, the Eugene Marathon, which had given me no shortage of headaches and anxiety. Would I finish? Would my body hold up? I did, and it did. 600 mgs of ibuprofen for the win, baby! I hit the wall around Miles 21-22 and finished three minutes ahead of my goal time of 4:30.

It was an incredible experience. I had a really good time. The weather was perfect.

For much of training, I’d run with headphones to listen to podcasts or when I really needed a boost, some heavy metal. I knew I didn’t want to wear headphones for the race itself. I wanted to take it all in. It amazed me how many people raced with headphones. I’d say 75%. Naturally there were some traffic problems with people not paying attention to their surroundings.

As you might imagine in a place nicknamed TrackTown USA, the community takes its running and its identity as a running city seriously. So many people lined the streets cheering for all of us, the quick and the dead. There was a guy dressed as Batman playing heavy metal music from his car on the side of the road. There were people handing out beers (I would’ve hurled) at one unofficial aid station and donuts (I would’ve projectile hurled) at another.

The volunteers at the aid stations, many manned by high school kids, were so supportive and helpful and … un-teenager-like. They were coached well.

The course doubles back on itself in the first seven to eight miles or so. At one point early in the race, so I would’ve been at about Mile 3 (I went out too slow, if I’m being honest, but it’s better to go out too slow than too fast.), I was in position to see the leaders running toward us on the other side of the road. They were flying. It was mesmorizing.

I tried pointing them out to people around me but just about everyone was wearing headphones, which brings me to my point: Why wall yourself off from the totality of the experience? It’s like when Anthony DePalma joined me on the podcast and we talked about that, how chronically wearing headphones caccoons you from the world. And if you’re working in human stories, if you’re a curious writer, you just might overhear something juicy.

Listen, I get it.

It’s nice to listen to groovy tunes or that backlog of podcasts you have. I do it, too. Especially on certain runs where you need something to distract you from the mundanity of mileage. My last big long run, an 18-miler, I wanted to “train” myself to not have headphones. I was out early in the morning and I heard an owl. I heard coyotes yapping. I ran up on a lavender bush and heard hundreds of honey bees buzzing. So when it came to the marathon, I wanted to hear, see, and feel it all.

When I made the turn up Agate St. at the close of Mile 26, the adrenaline was starting to take over. We were heading down a chute of sorts that dumped us onto the track at Hayward Field so we could “run in the footsteps of legends.” You bet I thought of Steve Prefontaine (rate and review The Front Runner!) rounding that final turn heading for home. Or Roscoe Divine blowing his doors off in the 1970 Twilight Mile. But unlike them, I ran on the far outside lane of the track to run a little farther, finish a little slower, and take in the scene. I looked around at the stands filled with hundreds of people looking for their friend or family member, but they cheered for everyone. I looked back at the big tower where Prefontaine stands tallest. I stayed to the outside so people could kick and sprint without me interfering. I didn’t want to sprint and kick and trespass on someone’s moment at the finish line. They only give you 200 meters or so on the track and I wanted all of it. I eventually trotted across the line, stopped my watch, and got out of the way. I got my medal, fist bumped a bunch of people, took some photos for some of the other finishers, then walked off to the finishers corral and nibbled on a stale plain bagel like a mouse.

It sounds weird to be proud of yourself for something like this, but I really was. I hadn’t done anything hard in a long, long time. My last marathon was nearly 20 years ago to the day. I was very happy with the day, and I’m still buzzing about it, if I’m being honest.

As if that wasn’t enough, I tracked down a home run ball off the bat of Zander Darby after an Emeralds game. Not sure why the game started at 11 a.m. on Wednesday, but, hey, we roll with it. Zander hit a bomb to dead center and it cleared the second fence. I watched to see if anyone scavenged it. I didn’t see anyone, so I was hopeful. After the game, I found it nestled in the grass.

That’s a damn good two-week stretch, man. (I stalked Zander at the end of the following game and he signed this for me.)

Pitch Club is back! For Issue 11, we feature Ruby McConnell’s pitch for a story she wrote for Alta Journal. She has some real bangers about “outlet and identity” and having a pitch tell the micro that you plan to write about in macro.

Please subscribe. Platform is the be-all-end-all. That’s how a shaggy dog like me can maybe perhaps secure another book deal.

The Books

1. The Pain Brokers: How Con Men, Call Centers, and Rogue Doctors Fule America’s Lawsuit Factory by Elizabeth Chamblee Burch. Seems like a good book to pair with Empire of Pain by Patrick Radden Keefe.

2. The Edge of Space-Time: Particles, Poetry, and the Cosmic Dream Boogie by Chanda Prescod-Weinstein. This book has been a bit over my head, which is admittedly a low bar to clear.

3. Lost: Amelia Earhart’s Three Mysterious Deaths and One Extraordinary Life by Rachel Hartigan. Love me some Earhart.

4. American Rambler: Walking the Trail of Johnny Appleseed by Isaac Fitzgerald. Had a real blast with this one.

The Other Stuff

5. The monthly podcast excerpts are back with my pals at Longreads! Who better to relaunch than the latest live podcast with Lidia Yuknavitch?

6. To Substack or not to Substack.

7. Patrick Radden Keefe’s latest story, “The Car-Crash Conspiracy” for The New Yorker, is WILD, man.

8. Great interview with Bob Odenkirk at the New York Times.

9. A guide to copy editing marks? Yep!

10. Wishing I Were John McPhee … join the club.

11. John Steinbeck offers some great writing tips.

Denouement (Oh, we speak French now?)

I hope you dug this werewolf issue of RATA. To support what it is I do, you can:

• Buy copies of The Front Runner

• Subscribe to Pitch Club,

• And/or leave kind reviews for the podcast on Apple Podcast and/or leave kind reviews for The Front Runner on Amazon and Goodreads. THESE ARE HUGE!

As my pal Kim says, buying a book or leaving a review is a vote for the next book; it makes us just a tad more attractive to publishers.

If you have a few bucks burning a hole in your pocket, you may check out Patreon.com/cnfpod.

Otherwise, stay wild, nose to the wind,

b.r.o.