“Hey, how about that?” I said when I received the schedule for my senior year in high school. I had been waiting for it for a few days, eager to see who my teachers were and what order my classes would be in. (Mind you, these were the days, in that long-ago 20th century, when class schedules were snail-mailed.) For three days, I had been watching for the mailman, a rotund fellow by the name of Al, to deliver it. Finally, the schedule had arrived.
The first thing I noticed was that one of my teachers would be someone I knew well, someone who had taught me in a different class as a freshman. I will call him Mr. D. And back in my freshman year, he taught English and unlocked for the class the treasures of great literature and the colors of the writing rainbow. But now, in my senior year, he would be teaching a class called Current Events. Great, I thought. I always liked Mr. D.
On the first day of school, I lingered after class for a couple of minutes, talked with him about what might be in store for the semester, reminisced about ninth grade. “Freshmen,” he said with a roll of his eyes. He still taught freshman English, too. In fact, even as we spoke, the first brave souls of his freshman English class began to trickle in to the room.
I told him about the impact his writing rainbow lesson had on me, how I still thought about it, still tried to live it, and always would. That made him smile. I asked him if he still talked about writing rainbows and creativity and reaching for your best to the current crop of freshmen. “Indeed, I do,” he said. I was glad to hear it, and hoped some of the wary underclassmen filtering into the room, eyeing me suspiciously as I conversed with the teacher at his desk, would be as motivated by the lesson as I had been.
“Well, it’s good being back in your class,” I said then, knowing I needed to go. If I didn’t leave soon, I’d be late for my next period. “I look forward to the semester.”
And I did. I meant it. And it didn’t disappoint. Mr. D. didn’t disappoint. Throughout the term, he assigned for us to read through issues of Time and Newsweek, and report on the news, every week. (Again, this was early 1990s education! No Googling.) Frequently, my worldview clashed with his, and we’d have spirited debates. He’d write in the margins of my handwritten essays that he disagreed with my interpretation of events but that he supported my right to hold views contrary to his own. We argued, we clashed about politics, but I enjoyed the class. And, I like to think old Mr. D. enjoyed having me as his student again.
One morning, a frosty, early November, hint-of-winter morning, I arrived in his class a few minutes early. Since it was the first period of the day, there were no departing students from a previous class. It was just Mr. D. seated at his desk.
I approached, and we started talking. I mentioned again how it was good having the opportunity to take a class he taught. “I never thought I’d be in your class again,” I said. “Freshmen year and now senior year . . .”
“There’s a kind of symmetry to it,” Mr. D. said. “You got stuck with me at the start, and at the end, of your high school career.”
A kind of symmetry, yes. I liked the sound of that.
*******************
It’s hard to believe it’s been almost five years since I published the e-book version of The Eye-Dancers. Time continues to speed along on rapidly fluttering wings. I remember well the stops and starts that led up to publication day. There were hiccups, hurdles, and unexpected delays. But eventually, release day arrived–in November 2012.
So it seems fitting somehow that, five years later, there have been delays and hurdles and hiccups with the sequel, as well. Editing has taken longer than expected. The writing process has taken longer. And of course sometimes things simply crop up, a week’s delay here, a month’s there. The end result has been a later-than-originally-anticipated release date. But The Singularity Wheel is getting close! I am working through the final substantive edits this week and next. Following that, a few heaven-sent beta readers will comb through the manuscript. Once they are done reading and offer feedback, I will do a final, final round of edits followed by a thorough copy edit/proofread. The cover will be completed. The file readied for publication. And . . .
A November release date is planned. Five years, to the month, following the release of The Eye-Dancers.
There is something about November, indeed.
As Mr. D. might say, there’s a kind of symmetry to it.
Thanks so much to everyone for all your ongoing support. It means the world. And thanks so much, as always, for reading!
–Mike
Eye-Dancers 