Whisking through the city

Just back from three tremendous days at NYC with Larry and my brother Seamus.

Stayed at the Hilton at Times Square as we wanted to be near to the action and my brother doesn't walk so good, result of a road accident when he was twelve.

First day was spent visiting the WTC and Rockerfeller Center followed by dinner at our fav Indonesian restaurant just off Restaurant Row. My brother can't understand why so many Americans want to line up to be seen waving during the Today Show. During teh afternoon, we stopped by an IMAX as Seamus hadn't seen a movie on IMAX before. Star Trek was showing (which we'd seen the previous week and really enjoyed) and Night at The Museum 2. Even the fact it was on IMAX couldn't save such a ridiculously hokey movie. Time Ben Stiller moved on.

Next day saw us doing the Empire State building, including the ride--not so good. A bit of a rip-off actually, given the quality of the photography and the gimmicks a la Kevin Bacon. Yeah, that guy really is degrees of everywhere.

After that, we went to see Chicago--which we all enjoyed--followed by drinks and dinner at The View, the revolving restaurant on the 48th floor of the Times Square.

Last day was spent at the Hayden Planetarium and Museum of Natural History. I'd never been before and the last time Larry was there was when he was a schoolkid in the Bronx being chaperoned by his teacher. It was very enjoyable, especially the African exhibit with its huge herd of elephants. It was worrisome (and quivers of political correctness threatened to extinguish my pleasure) when I read the the herd that included a huge bull and two calves was 'collected' and then given to the museum by an individual (not Teddy Roosevelt). Was 'collected' a pseudonym for 'shot'? I mused.
They were 'presented' in 1905 which made me feel better, though I couldn't help wonder how the magnificent creatures still sporting their huge tusks had died in their prime.

Knowing what we know now about elephant society, even culling is unacceptable.
The dinosaur skeletons, on the other hand, produced awe of a different kind.

And then our trip was over and we were speeding back to Bucks through the horrid rain.

A word about 75,000 words

Yesterday I reached a critical point in the writing of my first work of nonfiction, the one about my coming to live in America, and have been toying with the idea of publishing an excerpt on the blog.

Anyway, I reached a critical point yesterday and passed the 75,000 word mark. I don't exactly know why 75,000 thousand words is so important, but suspect it's because it would be a pleasingly thick book, a book with heft, if it were to be published tomorrow--the sort of heft that asserts 'I have 270 ragged-edged pages inside for you to feel and I am well worth the $24.95 you'll fork out for me in hardcover.' ($24.95 is a sort of median price for hardcovers here in the US.)

I also know the ending now--the final scene ran in my head yesterday like the speeding ticker tape at the ABC TV studios in Times Square--and the manuscript will come in at around 80,000 words in its rough form.

Of course, word content doth not a quality book make. I know that. That takes good writing and an interesting story, which requires a great deal of drafting and redrafting until one is sick of the manuscript so one doesn't ever want to see the manuscript again, hates and loves and hates and loves the manuscript, sometimes wants to hurl it into a blazing fire because it makes one think one is a shite writer. Oh, and a great book requires a great editor.

But, to get to the love-hate-love stage I must have words, at least 75,000 words. Because then I know I have written a book and I can slash and add and edit with impunity. I can because I do not have to fear facing a blank screen page that cries to be filled. I need to have that knowledge. It's my security blanket.

Now to think up an interesting title because I don't think America and Me cuts it for me any longer.