The Writer's Life 4/24

Every now and then in the letters to the editor in the NY Post there appears a gem. The New York airports, JFK and LaGuardia, attract a lot of birds. Occasionally, some will strike a plane, most famously the one Captain "Sully" so deftly landed in the Hudson. A few days ago another was struck on take-off. The passengers panicked, as the smell of smoke filled the cabin. The jet immediately returned to the airport, landing safely, no one injured. It seems politicians are waiting for a catastrophic crash before doing what needs to be done, that is, kill the birds before they're responsible for the death of hundreds.Today a creative soul out of Stamford, Connecticut came up with a wonderful solution that had me laughing out loud - windmills! This kills two birds with one stone, so to speak: first, it is a politically correct, clean energy solution even the most strident protestors would embrace; two, windmills kill birds by the thousands. Kudos, sir. Wit is a wonderful thing.

My thanks to Susan, who purchased a copy of Killing. She warned me that she does not usually like the work of male writers. I'd be very surprised if she liked the novel, which is extremely masculine. I assured her I wouldn't be offended. I suggested her husband, a World War II veteran, read it. Their tastes in literature are completely opposite. We got to talking about the subjective nature of art and I suddenly recalled a comment a woman left at Buzzle.com about one of my stories, before the site starting eliminating many of them, forcing me to post them at Fictionaut.com: "I can't believe a guy wrote this." The story was either Trade-Offs or Heart vs. Head. At first I thought: Great; she was touched, then I wondered if she thought I was unmanly and was peeved momentarily. Many scoff at any show of male sensitivity. There have been several times in my life that I regret having shown it and cringe at the thought of how unmanly I had behaved. The situations hadn't warranted tears. They were not anywhere near out of the realm of the average, near what some unfortunates suffer in this life. I hope that I have learned, evolved, and that some day before I die I will finally get right what it is to be a man.

Vic's stories at Fictionaut:   http://www.fictionaut.com/users/vic-fortezza