Author: Stacy Horn

They’re like good and evil here. The one on the left wants you to pet him. The one on the right is plotting your destruction.

My agent loved the two chapters I showed her!! I made the few changes she suggested, and after I give them the once over this morning, off they’ll go to my brand new, shiny editor! Accomplishment!

Every chapter I start has one thing that terrifies me. Like with these two chapters. With one I was terrified that I wouldn’t be able to condense the entire history of singing into two pages AND make it interesting. I could. With the other I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to weave in these sad, haunting stories of people from the Grace Church past. I couldn’t! (I will work them in elsewhere.)

With this new chapter it’s portraying John Maclay, my choir director. He’s a very unique character and he’s going to read it, hundreds of choir people who know him are going to read it, and his family is going to read it. Ugh. Plus, I have to pick some aspect about singing to weave into the story of him. Great. I’m freaking myself out.

Rick posted a link to this story in the comments section. Thank you for doing that. And what?? No pictures?? Seriously though, thank you for saving that little bird. (Although the squirrel leg!!)

The picture below is an older shot from my roof at dusk. I haven’t been up there since I stopped feeding the pigeons. I can’t face them. (I feel so bad. Sigh, sigh, sigh.)

In other news: I’m always terrified of facing a new chapter and for weeks I’ve been hemming and hawing about starting this new chapter where I hope to show what a conductor does. And talk about Joseph Haydn the slut. I’ve been researching, making to-do lists, and collecting articles about the science of singing, but I’ve only written a paragraph. It’s a BIG paragraph, but still. It’s just a paragraph. I’ve got to go in there now and really get going. Now. Right this minute.

STACY STOP WRITING THIS POST. GET IN THERE. (<——Talking to myself. Okay, shouting.)

Okay, it’s a good news/bad news thing. As I posted earlier, I’m reading a book called The Secret Life of the Grown-Up Brain by Barbara Strauch. I’ve started the chapters about things you can do that are good for the brain, things that will help generate new brain cells, protect against the effects of Alzheimer’s, enhance cognitive function, etc.

She quotes scientist after scientist who basically say some form of this: “We know from all this research that there are a few good things for the brain—and one is exercise [but only after watching tv for five hours straight].”

(I made an editorial suggestion for that quote, take it or leave it science.)

The thing is, when you read the entire chapter it’s very convincing. That’s not the right word, because I didn’t need convincing. Inspiring? Because after reading about all the different studies in depth and about all the effects of exercise, you’ll want to exercise. Just 30 minutes a day. Walking counts.

Guys with machine guns heading into Starbucks to grab a cup of coffee. (I don’t know where they were headed.)

It happened early this morning. I passed by on my way back from the dentist. (This is 19th and Broadway.)

The Daily News has a quote from a Verizon technician who had been working nearby. “I just heard someone screaming at the top of their lungs after the shots were fired. People started getting really distraught after they heard who got killed. One guy got really upset and picked up a garbage can and threw it at a cop car.”

Last night I was upset about a billion little things, and I was also sick and tired of being upset about a billion little things. I’ve decided I need to come up with a plan to tweak my life to address the things that repeatedly bother me. Not a major reinvention. I need something that feels more within reach. So I’m calling it a tweaking. Plan to come.

This is the Jane Street Garden, at Hudson and Jane Streets. I was taking a picture of the garden but my eye goes straight to the little dog. Awww.