​This year marks the 400th anniversary of Shakespeare’s death.  History has left us a few scarce facts about the person we regard as the greatest playwright in the English language.  We   do know he died on April 23, 1616 in Stratford Upon Avon.
To mark the death of the playwright the Folger  Shakespeare Library in Washington D.C. are sponsoring a tour of the First Folio to all fifty states.  In Wisconsin, the Chazen Museum in Madison Wisconsin was selected to display the First Folio from November 3 to December 11th.  During that time a host of events have been scheduled to teach about the importance of the First Folio to our culture.
I have been fortunate to attend four separate events, attend a docent tour of the Folio and the Chazen Museum and a performance of the Madison Shakespeare Company.
My first impression was that it was simply a fluke of history that we have the First Folio.  When Shakespeare was writing copy right laws did not yet exist.  Here’s an interesting fact, Shakespeare did not own the plays he wrote.  The plays were actually owned by the theater company, The Lord Chamberlin’s Men, that he was a partner in.  In 1603 King James I offered the company a patent and from that time on were called King’s Men.
In the United States the Folger Shakespeare Museum was started by Henry Folger and his wife, Emily.  Henry was CEO of Standard Oil Company and had enormous personal wealth.  The Folger’s didn’t have children but they had two passions, running Standard Oil and collecting Shakespeare Folio’s.  Frankly, Henry was obsessive.  The Library owns 82 copies of the 1623 First Folio.  While Folger spent a lifetime collecting he didn’t live long enough to see his Library finished.  His wife took on that role after his death.
Publishing plays was not common during Shakespeare’s career.  The purpose was performance, not creating a written legacy.  Two fellow actors and partners in The King’s Men performance company, John Heminges and Hendy Condell collected thirty-six of the plays, classified them by type and had them printed them in one volume seven years after Shakespeare’s death.  It is clear that following Shakespeare’s death there was no rush to have his work published.
My second impression was why it took so long to have the plays published.  I wonder what the motivation was to publish the plays when they did.  The King had extended the acting company a royal patent so obviously they had the right to publish at any time.  My guess, as a historical fiction writer, is that it took seven years to collect the various versions of the plays.  We also know that the 36 plays in the First Folio do not include:  Pericles;  Prince of Tyre; The Two Noble Kinsman; and the two lost plays –
Cardenio and Love’s Labour Won.  I wonder why three of the known plays were not included in the First Folio, it would only be conjecture.
The Chazen has the First Folio on display in a dimly lit room on the third floor.  The Folio is rests in a pedestal encased in ¾ inch glass surrounded by a motion security system with a guard from the UW-Madison Security staff.  The 630 page book is open to Hamlet and the “To be or not to be’ soliloquy.  It is humbling to read the words from the first printed version of the play.
My final impression was that the Folio is a book.  The plays are not printed in a way that would lend them to use in a stage production.  It is abundantly clear that the First Folio was intended as a Legacy work, to ensure that posterity had the plays.  Words are how we define ourselves and books provide a method to record words for eternity.  Printed books may not always be the medium, however, as human’s we must save what we create to the benefit of future generations.  We owe a debt of extreme gratitude to Heminges and Condell.  How tenuous history can be.
      

​In a nearby small Wisconsin town there is a coffee shop and bakery.  The husband and wife owners have owned the business for eight years and appear to some success.  To augment their business the baker, Shawn, offers inexpensive ($20) two hour baking classes.  My wife and I decided to take the class on rustic bread, one of my favorite foods.
We each received a three ring binder filled with recipes, baking tips, and the chemistry of baking bread.  There were eight other souls in class with us.  Everything was prepared for us to be able to learn how to make rustic bread. We had a choice of working with regular white bread flour, Wisconsin red wheat flour or sprouted grain flour.  Lynette wanted the challenge of sprouted grain flour and as usual she proved to be right.
Shawn guided us through the process of making bread.  Rustic bread is based on using a “poolish”.  A poolish was developed in Poland hundreds of years ago and has the distinction of being the only culinary development not claimed by the French as their own.  The poolish includes warm tap water, organic bread flour, organic wheat bread flour and yeast which are mixed together with exactly 100 strokes.  You let it rise (proof is the bakers’ term) for two hours and it forms a warm spongy ball of goodness.
I won’t bore you with the rest of the process but it involves two more proofs and 15 minutes of kneading.  So, do the math.  Just to get the bread ready to bake – takes 6 hours.  Making rustic bread is not for the faint of heart.
Shawn taught us to bake bread at a very high temperature – 425 degrees F for a short time – about 15 minutes.  Then he uses a meat thermometer, stabbing the bread, to ensure it is between 180-215 degrees.  The higher the temperature, the crustier the crust.  Never before have I taken a loaf of bread’s temperature.
But, it works.  So for the next few years I’m going to stay home and make rustic bread.  I’ve already signed up to take a sourdough bread baking class in March with Shawn, that should keep me busy.  

​It’s the day after and of course it’s tempting to blog about some political topic.  I won’t do that.  I don’t feel compelled to share my views with readers and I’m fairly certain the bottom line is – they don’t care what my views are anyway.  This much I will say – we must now face the challenges of governance.
At least once a week someone will ask me ‘how’s the novel going . . .?’  I’m always surprised by this question.  First, I’m surprised that acquaintances remember that I am currently working on my third historical novel.   Second, I am surprised that they are interested enough to ask about my progress.
Working on my third novel has been like walking the Camino in Spain.  You know in advance it’s going to be challenging but you do it anyway.  You struggle with being lost, crushing uncertainty that what you are doing is worth it, taking long breaks to rest and restore your resolve, asking others along the journey what their experience is, asking for help – from anyone.
While trudging along you form a picture in your mind on what the end is like and what it will feel like.  I have written three separate final scenes.  I don’t know which one if any of them I will use.  This past week I finally drafted the climax scene and have shared it with my muse.  I’m sure I will re-write that chapter many times but the initial scene is expunged from my soul.  I am waiting with some trepidation for my muse’s response.
When setting out on the journey of drafting a third novel I set the goal of writing 80,000-85,000 words, similar length to Murphy’s Troubles and Out of Darkness.  This past week I reached 75,986 words – so the end is in sight and I know I will accomplish my original goal of completing the first draft by the end of the year.
So, there you have it – it’s going well, thank you very much.              

​November.  It’s the second day of November.  October slipped through my fingers far too fast.  I have trouble remembering each and every day.
This past weekend we gave our kids a special wedding anniversary gift.  They celebrated their 9th year of not quite blissful marriage.  As in any marriage they have had their challenges but they are resilient and have two healthy, energetic boy – one almost 6 and the other 2 ½.  Our gift – time – we picked up the boys Saturday morning for a special program at our library and they stayed overnight and we took them back home mid-morning on Sunday.
Our oldest grandson has been having sleep over’s since he was two.  This weekend was the first time our youngest grandson has slept over.  In fact, we had not even been able to get him to take a nap when staying with us for a day.  His Mom was worried.  She sent us a detailed e-mail on all his sleep patterns so that we would have written instructions.
The two boys are exact opposite in temperament.  The oldest is relaxed, funny, and could move in with us without blinking an eye.  The oldest is high strung, energetic and currently has a bad case of the terrible twos.
The only hitch in the weekend was that we learned the hard way that our youngest grandson hates, let me repeat, hates taking a bath.  This also is an exact opposite of his brother.  He brother could stay in the tub with bubble bath and toys for an hour if we would allow it.  It took quite a bit of time to calm down our youngest grandson and convince him his life was not at risk due to water.
Both boys went to bed easily and slept soundly – until 4:00 am.  Our youngest grandson got up ready to play at 4:00 am – still don’t know why.  By 6:00 am after playing and having pancakes for breakfast he took a nap until 7:30 am.  Our oldest grandson rose at 5:00 am and was up for the day.  This was a bit earlier than I had planned on.  When dropping the kids off the first think my son said was; “Oh no, you have the ‘look’.”  It’s ok, I said – been up since 4:00 am.”
Even with the challenges having the boys was great and now we’ve broken the ice for having both boys for sleep over’s.  I’m looking forward to years of having the boys stay with us.     

​Sun Prairie Public Library Announces Survey
 
The Board of Trustees of the Sun Prairie Public Library has determined that the library is at a turning point.  The increase in population, new trends in service, and our role in the community requires the Sun Prairie Public Library to receive suggestions from our residents. 
In two years, the library building will be twenty years old and our facility must be equipped to meet the needs of our patrons.  The Library Board has created an Ad Hoc Committee on Strategic Planning to develop a plan for the future development of the library.  The goal of the plan is to address the needs of our patrons for the next five years and beyond.  The Library Board has hired WiLS, a consulting firm that specializes in guiding public libraries through the strategic planning process, to collect and analyze data.
The first step in the process is to survey residents to determine their perspective of the library facility and services.  The library also needs to learn if there are services residents would like that are not currently being provided.
The survey will be conducted from Monday, October 24, 2016 through Sunday, November 20, 2016.  There are several options for completing the survey:

• The survey will be available on paper at the library
• The library website www.sunprairiepubliclibrary.com.
• The library’s Facebook page.
• Direct link to the survey:    https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/SunPrairiePLSurvey

 
Following analysis of the completed surveys, three community listening sessions will be scheduled in 2017.
For questions or comments, please contact Svetha Hetzler, Library Director at:  [email protected].
 

​This past weekend I attended the Irish Book and Music Celebration in Chicago at the Irish American Heritage Center for the third consecutive year.  In the previous two years I’ve sold out of books.  I have made presentations each year and one year even had the opportunity to participate on a panel with Frank Delaney.
I had a sense of foreboding prior to going but dismissed it as ridiculous and completely without basis when thinking about the previous two years.  I decided I wanted avoid going through Milwaukee because of road construction and the stress of driving in heavy traffic.  I researched a route and found one using Highway 12 that would cut many miles off the trip.
Big mistake.  I didn’t take into account the number of small towns to go through with stop lights.  In Lake Geneva I had to take a detour because the route took me right through the Saturday Farmers’ Market.  After two and a half hours of driving I was still in Wisconsin.  The event started at noon and I like to get there to set up by at least 11:30 am.  I also didn’t take into account heavy traffic driving into downtown Chicago on a Saturday morning.  The navigation system in the Subaru, whom we’ve named Ian, would announce – traffic jam ahead – and offer an alternate route.  I didn’t want an alternate route but Ian kept repeating the same message over and over again.
By some stroke of luck we did arrive by 11:30 after three and a half hours of driving.  I was set up ready to sell by noon.  I also had a classic, grade A, headache for the stressful trip.  At noon no patrons arrived.  There was only a trickle of people.  At about 2:00 a man stopped by and bought two books with very little persuasion.  He then stayed at the table and talked, stream of consciousness talk, for the next thirty minutes.  I finally had to excuse myself to the bathroom to get him to leave.  He just crossed the hall and smothered the author across from me, but he bought his book too.  The remainder of the afternoon I had only two sales.
I was scheduled to speak at 5:00 pm – the last of the day.  My presentation was sandwiched in between two movies, one that started at 4:30 and one that started at 5:30.  Two older ladies came into the room and asked if this is where the movie was being shown.  I told them to go to the second floor.  They said that was ashamed because they didn’t want to go upstairs.  The only person that came for my presentation was the man assigned to introduce me.  We left together after 15 minutes assured that no one was interested in hearing about ‘The History in Historical Fiction.’  We packed up my books and went out for a Chicago steak.
The next morning all my business cards and most of my book markers were gone off the table.  I took that as a good sign.  In previous years I’ve had customers both before and after Mass.  Soon after arriving and setting up my books a young man rushed up to my table and stared at my books.  “Are you interested in Irish history?”  I asked.  “I want both your books.  I saw the book marks last night and I came back this morning to buy your books.”  That’s a fine start to the day.  The hallway was empty of any possible buyers for several hours after that.  I had two more sales.  I packed it up at two o’clock, tired and discouraged.
On the drive home the Subaru navigator, Ian, routed us past O’Hare airport which is far west of where we needed to be on Interstate 94 driving north to Milwaukee.  At least he didn’t route us through Rockford.  I was exhausted with a sore back by the time we got home about six o’clock.
I knew sales were a bust but I had to check my records from 2015 to make a comparison.  Sales this year were 66% less than in 2015.  Damn, why did I check?  IBAM 2016 was a financial disaster.  My bubble finally burst.

​Last week I attended a public meeting of our community’s diversity committee which is chaired by the mayor of our town.  The purpose of the committee is to remove obstacles that may be faced by people moving into our community related to public services.  The meeting was to share what the committee had accomplished in its’ first six months.
The meeting was started by everyone attending giving a brief introduction and the reason they were in attendance.  I attended because of my role with our library.  Other attendees included our police chief, assistant police chief and a police sergeant.  I’ve gotten to know our police chief from other meetings.  He is a leader in community policing and diversity hiring.  He believes the faces of the police officers should look like the faces of those in our community.
At the end of the meeting the assistant chief approached me with his hand outstretched to shake hands.  He smiled and said,  “Are you the Rex Owens who wrote Murphy’s Troubles.”
I burst out in a broad smile and pumped his hand, “Yes, yes I am.”
“I was given that book several years ago and I just love it.  You captured Ireland and The Troubles, it was wonderful.”
“Well, I’ve written a second book, Out of Darkness.”  I replied.
“Oh yes, I know.  I need to get that one.  Are you writing a trilogy?  I heard someplace that you’re writing a trilogy.”
“Yes, yes I am.  I’ll complete the manuscript this year and publish in 2017.”  I explained.
“That’s just great.  Nice to meet you.”  and he walked out of the room.
I was so surprised by this encounter that I didn’t even realize until I re-told my story to my wife that the assistant chief knew I was working on a trilogy.  How would he ever know something like that?  We obviously have an unknown shared connection.
Once again it proves, you just never know.
  

​Recently a friend of mine announced in a facebook post that he has been diagnosed with Stage 4 prostate cancer.  My friend is ten years younger than I am.  He didn’t actually announce on facebook that he has prostate cancer that information came via another friend who was sent an e-mail with a tad bit more detail.  It doesn’t matter, Stage 4 cancer is stage 4 cancer.
My friend has decided to try chemo therapy but his doctor has been very clear that the disease may be slowed down but not stopped and there is no discussion of remission.  My friend is a private person and I found it ironic that he chose facebook as his way to share his condition with the world.  It is clear from his post that he is deeply in the anger stage.  He doesn’t want to be contacted by anyone; he doesn’t want help of any kind.  At most he wants people to send him jokes to help lighten the load just a bit.  For now he plans to continue working half time, if his body can tolerate it.
Of course I have deep sadness after the initial shock passes.  Yet, I’ve spent several days reflecting on my relationship with my friend.  We became acquainted in civic theater first when he volunteered as the music director for one show and then when the theater group presented his original musical.  I worked with him to re-write his original draft of the script.  He composed the music and then the lyrics to all the songs and then tried to wrap the script around the songs.  I suppose that would be a musicians approach.  The result was an awkward script with uncertain conflict and no definite resolution.  I worked with him for several months to melt together the music and the script.  He was appreciative, he offered me a portion of any revenue he would receive for having the play produced professionally.  I also received recognition in the show program.  I also worked as the producer for the show.
I learned a great deal from him about the creative process and how artist vary in their approach to their work.   Artists are very accepting of each other’s creative process, there is a unique shared respect.  I also had him and his daughter on my radio show – Conversations with Wisconsin Artist.  Knowing him has both changed and enriched my life.
Yet, I ask myself how does this sort of thing happen?  For years I have had an annual prostate exam and while I didn’t ask I assumed my friend has had the same.  How do you discover that you have Stage 4 cancer?  Weren’t there some symptoms that would have sent alarm signals?  I know, those questions don’t matter any longer but the questions still linger.
I sent him my first joke in an e-mail and will continue sending him a joke every week.  I hope that when the time comes he seeks hospice care, it is best for both family and him.  I have been moved by sharing the creative process with him and that is the life well lived.   

​In our local newspaper last week these words were used to describe me in an article announcing an Ad Hoc Community Transportation Committee that I have been appointed to serve on.  These few words caused me to pause.
These three words go a long way to describe my life at this point in time.  Of course, there are other descriptive words that denote life roles such as husband, father, grandfather, teacher, radio host and friend. 
Writer, community volunteer can also be verbs because they describe what I spend a lot of time in my life doing.  Writer, community volunteer describes two things that I am passionate about.
I am fortunate because I am financially secure and right now everyone I care about is in good health and not at risk for any major health concern.
Sometimes I do have trouble balancing the time I devote to writing and community volunteering.  It is easy for me to become entangled in local issues and spend time researching, networking and attending meetings for various community activities.  All of those things are time NOT writing.  Frankly, sometimes I think I use my involvement in community activities to distract myself and avoid writing.  It happens.
I always come back to writing because it is who I am.
So, life is good now – writer, community volunteer.    

​Throughout the year I have shared with readers my journey in writing the third book in my Ian Murphy trilogy.  Writing about the experience is therapeutic and my way of sharing the journey with other writers.  Each writer’s journey is very individualistic although we share many things in common.
I have had detours, roadblocks, crushing doubt, and re-writing so far on the journey.  I have always planned a book of about 80,000 to 85,000 words and this week I reached 68,300 which is 80-85% complete.  From the outset my vision for the conclusion was that Ian learns to conquer his darkness and alcoholism by writing his memoir stage play and resolving all of his outstanding issues.  I also wanted to have other characters, Caitlin his sister, Brianna his niece and his new friend William all find what they are looking for.  In short – a grand feel good ending.
This week the dark cloud of darkness and doubt descended on me as I thought about how to craft the final chapters in the manuscript.  I felt uncomfortable with the direction I was taking.  I didn’t understand why after nine months working on the manuscript I was experiencing ennui.  The original ending I envisioned just didn’t feel honest.
Then the word “contrition” rose to the surface of my consciousness.  Ian didn’t express contrition.  I wrote to my muse Brigid and explained my dilemma.  I re-imagined the final scene in the book to have Ian publically express regret for his role in the IRA.  My view was incomplete and I was unsure of the authenticity so I asked Brigid for help.
Brigid suggested that at the end of the play Ian rush the stage and play himself in the final scene and give an impromptu speech expressing  contrition for life he had lead.  The audience would be stunned at his appearance on stage.  Ian’s final act becomes one of self-discovery and dead reckoning.  Ian learns and accepts who he is by understanding his past.  We are after all, the sum of all our decisions.
Brigid gave the ending that explosive finish and presented a path to build tension into the final chapter as Ian watches the play performed.  Ian will experience a euphoric moment – close curtains – THE END. My muse once again shines light into my writing life.