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Showing posts from 2013

The memories of Christmas past.... The Saturday Evening blog Post, edition#12

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It is three days to Christmas and time to think about Christmas's past (and greatly embellish them.) So, today, for your reading pleasure, here are some highlights (and lowlights) from the last forty years of Hogenkamp family Christmas celebrations. The year without a Santa Claus (circa 1978): I was ten or so, and I had a hankering for a BB gun you wouldn't believe--unless you are a ten year-old boy. I can still remember the make and model, a Crosman Model 760. I made sure to show my mother the exact gun I wanted at our local sporting goods store, and recollect that she said, 'We'll see,' a sure sign I wasn't getting it. And sure enough, when Christmas morning dawned there was no Crossman 760 under the tree--on the positive side, I did get a pair of Levi's corduroy pants in a mauve color. In protest, I refused to put clothes on, and spent the next three days in my long underwear. (Ok, ok, but I was ten--or twelve maybe, who can remember?) Christmas in

#december in #vermont, a pictorial essay on the Thursday afternoon #MINI post

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Welcome, #MINI fans. Due to the success (remember, success is a relative term) of my #november in #vermont post last month, I have decided to dedicate the 3rd #MINI of every month to a pictorial essay featuring #vermont scenes I have captured on my iPhone, so those of you who don't live in the #greenmountainstate can get a sense of what it is like the whole year round. (And, yes, there are lots of cows.) Just a quick plug before we get started: if you haven't read #theintern, the serialized novel I am writing on #wattpad, I am posting the links below. If you have, note that segment 3 is published and also posted below: The Intern; Chapter 1, The Boy in Room 12 The Intern, Chapter 1, segment 2 The Intern, Chapter 1, segment 3 The ubiquitous red barn   #burdock (also ubiquitous) #merrychristmasCharlieBrown Penguins are native to Vermont A fern in winter blackberries gone by

Stepping Outside Your Comfort Zone, a guest blog on the Saturday Evening blog Post.

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                                                                 Good evening Post fans. We have--yet another--treat for you; a guest blog written by my brother-in-law, Tim Sayles. But, before you read the post, be aware of three things about Tim. 1) If charisma were worth money, he would be in a higher tax bracket that Bill Gates. 2) He is the best natural born actor I know, which is the reason I always find myself in trouble whenever he's around. (Go ahead and click on the link I have provided to see his award-winning short film ) 3) He brings the thunder. (Don't ask--you are better off not knowing... plausible deniability and all that.) Ok, here's Tim. First, I want to thank Peter for asking me to share on his forum.   Those that have been following his posts should know by now what I have known for years.   He is a modern day Renaissance Man.   His constant testing of his boundaries amaze and inspire me.   I recently acted in a movie for a film fest

Publish or Perish: The Thursday Afternoon #MINI post, Edition #9

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                                                                      I have been getting a lot of questions lately about where I am in the publishing process right now (Ok, mostly from my mother, but still....) so I thought I would devote the #MINI to an update on my progress. Warning: I am feeling a strong desire for self-deprication, so if your stomach is a little queasy, you may want to skip to the end. (But please leave a comment anyway--good comments only, of course.) > First things first, I do not have a book contract yet, but my ueber-agent, Liz Kracht, and I are working on it. Publishing is a slow business, and patience is not a virtue--it is a necessity. So I am practicing patience and humility (##gggrrrrr!) and Lord knows I need the practice. >In the meantime, I am working on other projects and blogging. And I have to be honest; I started my blog because Liz 'suggested' that a blog might be a good way to build an audience, but I have found that I enjoy the

Three things for which I never expected to be thankful: The Thursday Afternoon #MINI post, #Thanksgiving edition, #8

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Happy Thanksgiving all! I hope you are spending it with friends and family, and that you don't need to unbutton your pants before dessert--because that's bad form. For starters, (in our house, that would be the olive/pickle/cheeseball tray--my late mother-in-law's tradition--and we miss you Nanni!) let me say that I am #thankful for my family. I have been blessed, and there is nothing in this world more important to me. Having said that, let's get to the turkey of today's post: three things for which I never expected to be thankful. Number 1: the broccoli and cheese casserole (borrowed from my sister-in-law, with whom we used to spend Thanksgiving before our kids got too big to travel). I am thankful not to be working today. Who works on Turkey day, you say?  I remember a Thanksgiving about twenty years ago, staring out at the grey and bleak Syracuse skyline from my call room in the top floor of the hospital, thinking about my loved ones back at home as I cha

Book Review: Olen Steinhauer's AN AMERICAN SPY; The Thursday Afternoon #MINI post; Edition #7

Good afternoon #MINI fans. I recently finished Olen Steinhauer's An American Spy , and I'm in the mood to write a book review, but don't worry, this is Thursday and the rules of the #MINI are etched in stone: short and without an excess of verbiage. (Actually, it's more of a guideline than a rule.) The first spy I ever met was James Bond, and all the others I have met since have had to live in his shadow, because James Bond has no equal. That said, spying is a shadowy business and Bond is way too fond of the limelight to be a real spy. (But he has swag, mind you: #SWAG). So, the following generations of fictional spies went to the other extreme. John LeCarre's George Smiley was the perfect foil to Fleming's Bond: quiet and demure whereas Bond was brash; clever, not blunt; subduing his prey with intelligence and guile as opposed to gunplay. Countless other secret agents have been forged in the intervening decades, most splitting the gap between Smiley and Bond.

The Thursday Afternoon #MINI post: #Vermont in #November--an essay in pictures

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Fall, Interrupted Ten Shades of Grey #WishIhadmyskis #snowbeard #Rutvegasbaby That's the #MINI for this week, hope you enjoyed it. Make sure you tune in on Sunday, as the Saturday Evening blog Post features the fir st in a series of guest blo gs. Thanks for your support.

The Thursday Afternoon #MINI post: The number 1 most annoying cliche of all time--and why I hate it.

Something new on the #MINI (about time, you say?) Let's call it--A short essay on popular culture. Today's inaugural post will be about one of my favorite things to harp about: how much I cringe when I hear "It is what is is." It is what it is . This cliche ranks highest on my cringe meter, with a straight 10/10. I could go on for hours about this one, but the rules of the #MINI post are clear: short and to the point. So, let's use an example of how this 'expression' might be used. Man talking to glum-appearing friend: "What happened to you?" Glum-looking friend--let's call him Dave--replies; "My wife left me because I slept with the cleaning lady, my brother won't speak to me because I stole money from my parents, and I lost my job because I was in a bad mood one day and told my boss to bugger off." "I am sorry to hear that, Dave." "It's okay. It is what it is." See my point? Perhaps if Dave had

The Saturday Evening Post presents: One Night in Boston (unlike any other in 100 years.) #bostonstrong

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When I look back on it--three days later--the St. Louis Cardinals never really had a chance. It wasn't one particular thing, like the pitching of John Lackey--good though he was--but a combination of factors, almost all the kind of intangible ones never to show up in a box score. The first sign was the national anthem, sung by the Drop Kick Murphy's wearing Red Sox uniforms and kilts. When they finished that and started singing "Shipping up to Boston," the crowd went ballistic, and I could smell history in the making--as well as hot dogs, missing the performance as I did waiting in line to spend twenty bucks on two Fenway franks. By the time I worked my way back to where my son was standing atop the #GreenMonsta, I was treated with the sight of Luis Tiant throwing the first pitch to Carlton Fisk. The last time those two played together it was Game 6 of the 1975 World Series, a game in which Fisk hit the most iconic home run in Fenway history--until Steven Drew hit

The Saturday Evening blog Post presents: My Name is Job.

The following story is true. No names have been changed, because there are no innocent to protect: The wheels of the Otter-9, a plane that looked like a bathtub with wings, touched down in Worcester, and I breathed a sigh of relief that the vacation gone wrong was over. Little did I know that my comedy of errors was just getting started. Perhaps I should have been warned by missing three consecutive connections--but I am a hopeful spirit and paid no attention. I mean, I had broken my shoulder on the first day of a week long skiing vacation; things had to get better. Right? When my ride failed to materialize, I merely threw my skis and bags over my one good shoulder and hoofed it back to my dorm room on Mt. St. James--I later learned there was a bus--as the skies opened and spit a light drizzle over my head. Two weeks later my shoulder stopped aching and I thought it might be time to get more active, so I grabbed my skates and headed up to the Hart Center for some late-night skating

the Thursday afternoon #MINI post: #travelinyourownbackyard #travelswithmydad

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Remember the #MINI post is inspired by the #MINI--short, fast and fun to drive. (And let's not forget easy on the eye.) Today's #MINI combines two of my favorite features, #travelinyourownbackyard and #travelswithmydad. I have a theory (which is mine.) My theory (which is mine) says that that you can not escape problems by running away. All solutions come from within. This theory (which is mine) has a corollary: when you are searching for places to go, look in your backyard, because you have surely overlooked something right under your nose. This was certainly the case in 1999 when my father and I were attending a week long medical conference in Phoenix, Arizona. The lectures finished early in the afternoon, giving the attendees plenty of time to have some fun--as long as that fun didn't involve driving very far. My father wasn't actually attending the conference--although he did go to several lectures out of interest--and spent the morning researching our afternoon

The Thursday Afternoon #Mini post: #evolvingfiction #ittakesavillagetowriteabook

Ok, something new on the #Mini post. Under the heavy influence of #breakingbad, I have been thinking about memorable characters recently, and how the classic molds for antagonists and protagonists have been smashed entirely. Think Walter White. So, sitting here on this sunny bench overlooking Pico Peak, I am giving a go to creating a memorable character, who is neither protagonist nor antagonist. But, please, give me some help. I have co-published this story on Readwave and WattPad under the tentative title of The Subverting of Dr. Molly Stryker. If you have a second, sign on, read the story as it evolves, and give me suggestions. Without further ado, The Subverting of Dr. Molly Stryker. Molly would never be sure when she had grabbed the knife--during his last round of insults perhaps or maybe when he had gone into the dining room to make a quick call to his mistress--but there was no mistake about its feel, hard and reassuring in her sweaty palm, as she stood by the door to kiss him

The Saturday Evening blogPost: The off-the-beaten-path Travel Log, Gran Canaria

It was 1988 and I was teaching at an international school in Salzburg, Austria. It was late May, and school had just ended for the year, meaning that the traveling season for my fellow teachers and I was just beginning. My friends Bill and Chief and I had been planning to hike from the Italian/Austrian border, across the spine of the Austrian Alps, to the German/Austrian border, staying at Alpine Mountain Huts at night. I had been looking forward to the trip all year, but when it arrived the weather forecast was a deal breaker: cloudy, raining and cold. So, we improvised, and rode our bikes downtown and found a travel agent offering last minutes deals on trips that other people had already bought and paid for and then cancelled last minute. A few hours later we were on board a plane for Las Palmas, Gran Canaria. To be honest, I had never even heard of the place, but it had been a dreary spring in Salzburg, and the travel agent had promised us sunshine (or that's how I translated

The Saturday Evening blogPost, #2: Travel Diary, The Cinque Terre

It was twenty-five years ago and I was on a train going through southern France, or perhaps it was Spain, I honestly can't remember. But I do remember running into this guy in the dining car, called himself Chris. He was a cheesecake guy; the first five minutes talking to him, like the first bite of cheesecake, was flavorful. The next ten minutes, like the next few bites, were pretty good, although not quite as good as the first bite. And then, out of nowhere, the fried calamari, the six pieces of bread, the Caesar salad draped with anchovies, and the steak that looked like an entire side of beef catches up with you and you can't stomach even the thought of another bite. This is what the next hour of talking to Chris was like, only with lots of gas. Imagine hoping for a bout of cholera or other highly infectious and unpleasant disease in order to encourage him to find someone else to tell his embellished stories to. Of course, I can only blame myself, as there were clues early,

Everything I need to know I learned in pathology: A tribute to Bob Rohner, MD

My entire life has been a quest to get educated, beginning in kindergarten (where my skills at napping were unparalleled) and right on through the CME (continuing medical education) course I took last week on mosquito-borne illnesses (sounds fascinating, right?). Along the way, I have had the pleasure of having many excellent teachers, and I dedicate this post to Bob Rohner, who taught human pathology at Upstate Medical Center in Syracuse, NY for 40+ years (and he did it with panache!) Now that I have taken up the pen, I spend a lot of time thinking about the great communicators with whom I have crossed paths, and I ask myself what it is/was about her/him that made he/she such an effective communicator. Why? Because if you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball. And also because writing and teaching are really about communication. If I want to write/communicate better, then study the people who could communicate/teach. Bob Rohner was such a teacher, and after some thought, I have

Upcoming Writers Digest Webinar August 26-29 on submitting your manuscript

Just a quick post for those of you out there who have completed a manuscript and want to submit it to an agent. My literary agent and her entire agency are doing a Webinar August 26-29, on how to make your submission stand out among the hundreds agents get every month. Check out the specifics on the agency website HERE . If you haven't had a chance to get to a conference yet, this is an excellent chance to get the same insider information without travel and hotel costs. Ciao.

Nothing that goes right will ever make a good story! #misadventuresarememorable

It occurred to me last night as my brothers and sisters and cousins were sitting around after dinner, retelling all the old stories we have retold for years and years: There is a commonality to every good story, and that commonality is "Nothing that goes right will ever make a good story." Allow me to give an example. Ten years ago my family and I went hiking at High Point Park in Northern Jersey, with my brother Eric and his wife. It was a sunny Good Saturday in April, and we were enjoying the warm air after a cold winter. The group spread out as groups do on a hike, and the kids went charging ahead as kids do. But I wasn't worried, because we were experienced hikers from VT, and there wasn't anything in NJ that was going to phase us Vermonters (even my boys, who were 7 and 9.) Well, we made it to the top and tried to gather everyone for a photo--with the Manhattan skyline as the backdrop--when we realized my seven-year-old wasn't there. Apparently he had lagge

Thirty-two years after.

My seventeen-year-old son and I were sitting in the admissions office of Holy Cross College last week when it hit me: it was thirty-two years to the day when my father had escorted me there for my own interview. It was the summer of 1981 and we were on our way to Cape Cod for a week's vacation and a visit with my sister who had been working in Hyannis for the season. My father had asked me several months previously if I had wanted to visit Holy Cross College on the way, but I had dismissed the idea without consideration. I was seventeen-years-old, and the prospect of following in my father's footsteps at Holy Cross hadn't appealed to me. Since he hadn't brought the subject up again, I had thought the matter had been dropped until I woke up from a nap and found us parked on the side of a steep street lined with tall trees. "Where are we?" I yawned. "Holy Cross College," my father replied. "I thought you might want to stretch your legs for a bit.&

The lost art of anticpation.

Have you ever wondered why some memories are just burned into your head, and why others--perhaps those attached to more significant events in your life--get lost in the neurosynaptic shuffle (and, yes, I made that term up, but I kind of like it.) For instance, I have very few memories of my graduation from grammar school, and yet I have almost visceral recollection of an event that took place the following summer, an event that will seem very mundane to many of you. I was fourteen-years-old and an avid reader of comic books and similar magazines for boys. My favorite part of these was the small ads in the back hawking all kind of things that a boy my age might want--like a model airplane with a real Cox engine. I can still feel how badly I wanted that plane. When I spoke to my father about it, he shared my enthusiasm for it. "Best get going earning some money," he said. So I put a sign up looking for work, lawns, raking, weeding, stacking wood, whatever. I remember being ve

How to succeed at failing. (From somewhat of an expert in the field!)

We live in a success oriented culture. If you don't think this is true, consider the case of Alex Rodriguez (A-Rod) of the New York Yankees. When A-Rod was leading the Yankees to one pennant after the next, no one seemed to care that A-Rod was using steroids and other performance enhancing drugs. But when A-Rod started to struggle (after he was forced to play without PED) he became the pariah he is today. Lesson to the young people in the world: As long as you are successful, the methods you used to become successful don't matter. And the converse: if you are not successful, you will be rigorously cross-examined and then cast aside. By way of a second example, here is just one paragraph of what I found on the net when I googled the issue: (from Total Pro Sports)    The Caltech Beavers men’s basketball team (NCAA Div. III) hold the longest losing streak in NCAA history. Spanning 207 games and 11 years, the team went from 1996 to 2007 without a win. Their in-conference losin

PeterHogenkampWrites: Book review: Saving Laura by Jim Satterfield

PeterHogenkampWrites: Book review: Saving Laura by Jim Satterfield : If you are, like me, on the lookout for a fresh voice in the thriller genre, clear out your schedule for a few days and ...

Book review: Saving Laura by Jim Satterfield

If you are, like me, on the lookout for a fresh voice in the thriller genre, clear out your schedule for a few days and pick up a copy of Jim Satterfield’s Saving Laura . Set in Wyoming and Colorado—a region Satterfield knows like his backyard— Saving Laura is the tale of a young man willing to risk everything to save the girl he loves from an unscrupulous drug dealer. It is a common theme, yes, but Satterfield does it with uncommon style: in the smooth and easy prose that flows like the waters of the Roaring Fork River, in the characters as real as the Rockies themselves, and in the use of the setting—described beautifully—as a character unto itself. So well does Satterfield know the terrain and understand its denizens, that the reader is much like a movie-goer, watching the story unfold amid the snow-tinged peaks and aspen-covered hills. But there is more to Saving Laura than beautiful scenery, much more. In classic thriller fashion, there is never really an

A candid interview with literary agent Liz Kracht of Kimberley Cameron & Associates

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 It is my great pleasure today to bring you an interview with my literary agent, Liz Kracht of Kimberley Cameron & Associates. I want to keep my introductory remarks brief--because you all have heard much from me before and you are reading this because you want to hear from Liz--but suffice it to say that Liz is an author's literary agent (kind of like a player's manager in baseball): approachable, witty, realistic yet hopeful (tough combo in this gig), loyal (let me stress how important this is), and reliable. Enjoy the interview.  Peter Hogenkamp (PH): What is the biggest misperception today about writers and/or publishing? Elizabeth Kracht (EK):   I think one of the biggest misperceptions I’ve seen—concerning both writers and publishing, plus media coverage—is around highly publicized “overnight” success stories. I don’t believe there are overnight success stories. I think we like to believe there are, because it gives hope and feeds our fantasy life, and ca