Tag Archives: Orange

To The Woman In The Orange Shorts, I’m Sorry

Way back in the day I used to get up early and go to the gym. I got there around 06:30 so I could work out for an hour, shower, and get to work by 08:00. The gym at that time was always dead. Literally just a front desk person, me, and this badass woman (more about that later) about my age who always wore orange athletic shorts when she worked out.

She and I seemed to do our circuit in reverse order so she was always on the other side of the room or opposite me depending on where the equipment was. To this point, we hadn’t even said so much as “Good morning” to each other and it had been several weeks.

One day, I was doing an inclined squat and my back went out. I was literally being crushed by the weight and could barely speak. I mustered a weak, “Help!” and she ran over and hoisted the bar off me like it was a toothpick with marshmallows on the ends. She helped me up and got me into the changeroom. I said, “Thanks,” and she said, “No problem. Hope you’re okay,” and that was that.

Fast forward a couple of months later when I return to the gym. She waved at me when I got there and gave me the “thumbs up + shoulder shrug” sign language. I shot her back either a double thumbs up or finger guns, I don’t remember, and mouthed, “Thank you!” (I also did it in ASL because that’s one of the few words I know).

About a week later I started drinking protein shakes. I liked them, but there was a downside. They gave me terrible gas. I mean, windows down while driving in the dead of winter terrible. It was bad.

Anyway, one day I’m on the peck deck and Orange Shorts Wonder Woman was right across from me on the reverse-Thighmaster machine. I had just upped my weight and was trying to squeeze in one last rep, which I did, but I also squeezed out a very long but very silent (thank the gods) fart.

It burned.

I thought I damaged my ass.

I expected to see a scorch mark on the seat when I stood up.

And then it hit her.

I’ve never seen someone’s face contort as I did hers, and that’s saying something when you go to the gym and see muscleheads trying to bench press the equivalent of a Prius.

Woman in hat with a disgusted look on her face — https://pixabay.com/photos/portrait-woman-girl-model-face-5470420/

She didn’t even finish her set. She just covered her nose with the sweaty towel she used to wipe the machines and left.

I never saw her again.

If there’s one thing I know it’s that the internet can find anybody, so if you’re out there, really strong woman in the orange shorts who worked out early in the morning at the Goodlife Fitness on Columbia Street in Waterloo, Ontario, Canada sometime around 2000 or 2001, please reach out so I can properly apologize for my rancid ass ruining your gym experience, possibly forever.

#teamOrange

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If you follow my tweets, have me as a friend on Facebook, are part of the super secret society private group for ~~crazy people~~ writers on Facebook, or read this blog, then you are aware that I wrote a short story a while back based on the loss of someone close to me and submitted it for publication in an anthology that was being put together to help out a writer friend. The proceeds of this book are going to “Orange” Karen DeLabar and you can find her on Facebook, Twitter, and the Internets.

This week, on April 11th to be exact, the anthology finally made its first public appearance and the response has been amazing. So many people, and not just friends and family either, have picked up the book – in some cases several copies. Readers Digest’s Most Trustworthy writer, Margaret Atwood, even re-tweeted a link!

It’s hard to put into words what it feels like to be a part of something like this (but that won’t stop me from trying).

The Orange Karen Anthology represents my first publication, and that’s a really big deal. Seeing my name on the back cover of a book is a amazing feeling and one that’s completely surreal. The story I wrote was one that was really close to me (write what you know, right?) and over the last couple weeks I have re-read it numerous times, read some of it out loud for R.B. Woods’ “Word Count” podcast, and shared my story and the link to the book with hundreds of people: friends, family, co-workers, random strangers in the Twitterverse and Facebook, and the lady whose kid takes piano lessons at the same time as my kids’ guitar lessons.

Suffice it to say I’m a little emotional.

One thing I have going for me is I know I’m not alone in what I’m feeling. Many of the other people involved have expressed how overwhelmingly emotional it is to be a part of this. Back in January I posted an open letter to writers. The catalyst for that post was largely due to personal experiences some of my writer friends were having at the time and the key takeaway was that to be a writer one of the things you need is a good support group. Based on what I’ve seen in the past few days it’s clear that the people who put the anthology together, the contributing authors, and Karen herself have one of the most amazing support networks you could ever ask for.

It’s moments like these that convince me that there may be hope for humanity after all.

This is the most round about, disjointed, gushy, thank you post you can imagine, but as I mentioned a minute ago I’m a little emotional, so cut me some slack. Knowing that Ryan’s story is helping Karen have a happier ending to her story is what this is about, and I wanted to let as many people as possible know how much I appreciate it.

I’m reading the anthology in its entirety now and I have to say there are some pretty amazing stories in there (mine is titled “Losing Vern”). If you haven’t picked up a copy already I would highly recommend you do.

~ Andrew

*As a note, if you pick of a paper copy from the link above it results in the best royalty payment (that goes straight to Karen’s medical bills). This is not a hard sell, just an FYI. If you pick up the eBook you still qualify for the group hug from the organizers and contributing authors.

^ If you own a Kobo and need the book for that format please contact me for a solution.

Losing Vern

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Birthdays have been tough since 2009 as it seems every one is a reminder of losing Ryan. Truth be told, very few days go by where one of us doesn’t remember him in some way, so it’s not so much the actual day as it is just one more reminder. I take solace in the fact that there were so many wonderful things to remember.

So, another year passes. Loss helps me keep perspective: as long as I keep having birthdays things can’t be all that bad. As the saying goes – every day on this side of the grass is a good one! Thank you, Ryan, for showing so many of us how to appreciate living, how to love with all our hearts, and how to laugh as often as possible (especially at ourselves).

The Night Was Poorly Lit and Tumultuous

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I am what could be classified as a ‘new writer’. Aside from a two page anecdotein the humorous collection “The Darwin Awards III: Survival of the Fittest” I have never been published. I write this blog, of course, but these posts are mostly just random thoughts that eject from my head like the Oort cloud spitting out a comet. Many have come, but only a few have ever been considered wonderful.

I have a full time job, and a family, and several other interests outside of writing, but for some reason I am drawn to the art of dreaming up a fabulous story in my head, and translating those thoughts into words, and organizing them in such a way that they transport the reader to a world that is not their own.

I had this idea to write a screenplay, so I could see my story come to life, but a friend suggested I write it as a book first. He knows me well, and though I fought the idea for some time I eventually came to the same conclusion. So off I went; to write a book. I wasn’t really concerned that I’ve read exactly zero books on how to write, or that I haven’t studied English, literature, or anything remotely related to writing in almost two decades. I’ve read Lynne Truss’ “Eats, Shoots and Leaves”, insist on a single space after a full stop, and will fight to the death over the Oxford comma. That should be good enough, right?

There are many schools of thought on how to begin writing a book. There are thousands of books/websites/classes/opinionated snobs that will tell you this but in my opinion Kurt Vonnegut sums it up better than anyone else:

“You cannot edit a blank page.”

So, I’m writing a novel and a trilogy of short stories and both are marching along slowly but surely. Then, I heard about the Orange Karen Anthology. Writing communities are close-knit and when one person in this community suffers they all suffer. They also all rally behind each other providing the support necessary to help people through tough times. When a friend of ours was struck by a terrible illness, and racked up ridiculous medical bills in the process, her community rallied to create an anthology with all proceeds going to help her out with the financial costs that have come with surviving.

In awe of her courage and determination, and proud of the support from her community, I was inspired to submit a story for consideration in the book. Taking a page from Mr. Vonnegut I just wrote it down. It was a story based on real-life events, and it was an emotional one to tell. I had mentioned I was writing it in a Facebook group and another group member, a friend who wrote alongside me during NaNoWriMo this year, offered her assistance with editing. I happily accepted her offer.

At first she had some reservations. The topic was very close to me and she didn’t know how I would accept her feedback. But, we both plugged through those uncertainties, fears, and doubts and several versions and emotionally gut wrenching re-writes later we had a finished story to be proud of. It was exhausting, and it was completely worth it.

Jennifer Gracen was my editor and she guided me through this process gently, but with expert precision. I am beginning to think it’s no accident that you can find the word “grace” in her last name and the fact that she is a compassionate mother of two beautiful children served her well on this project. From her initial suggestion to write in the third person (I stared by writing it in first person) to her final “I like how you re-worked this”; every bit of red ink on that manuscript was a learning opportunity and it would have been a tragic waste of time for both of us if I would have considered it anything less.

Jennifer’s job was to tighten my sentence structure, fix my grammar (and my god forsaken tense mix ups), suggest alternate wording, prevent orphaned or complex dialog, and otherwise tease, coax, persuade, charm, lure, sweet-talk, or cajole the right words out of me using whatever methods she felt would work best. Looking back at that first brain dump of words and comparing it with the final version you wouldn’t know that it was written by the same person.

My editor made me a better writer.

I am beyond thankful for all the effort she put into this and I sincerely hope that I will get to work with her again. My only concern now is that she will read this post and notice that I have ignored a lot of what she just taught me. Don’t worry, Jen, not every comet gets to be wonderful.

It is with all my heart and the utmost compassion that I extend a thank you to my dear wife. The story is more hers than it is mine and she didn’t just let me write it – she gave me the strength to write it and for this I am eternally grateful.

A Day Just Like Any Other? Not Really.

Potato Chip Math

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