Off To Galveston

Well, tomorrow is the big day. Lots of packing, and corralling of kids, and packing, and planning, and packing, and . . . you get the idea. So this will most likely be my final post for the next eight or nine days. I'll get back into town the weekend of the seventh, so I'll probably update next Saturday.

I'm looking forward to spending time with my family, including my brother and his wife. And while I do intend to take advantage of my stay there in hopes of getting good writing material, I also need to keep in mind that this is vacation so I need to focus on the kids. We have a full schedule of water parks, amusement parks, and the like in store for them. I'm just hoping to sneak in a museum here or there. We shall see.

A quick check of the weather reveals no problems in that area. (which, with my luck, probably means we'll have the seasons first hurricane while we're still there.) I'll take the car in for servicing tomorrow morning, so it will be in good shape. So I guess we're good to go.

Bye ya'll!

A Little More Research and Stuff

Spent today taking care of Rowan, doing a little laundry, and doing more research.

Apparently the Brazos River and it's tributaries have a rather bloody past. Especially in the form of Indian attacks on settlements in the early to mid 1800s. One of the worst was actually during the Civil War. Makes for useful background, hopefully for future stories.

Pill Hill press just started taking submissions for "scary stories on the seas" for an upcoming anthology. I asked if I could use a riverboat on the old Brazos instead, and they said that would be fine. So thats one potential story to work on. Aw well, vacation looms and I have a lot to get done. Not to mention, the wife is ordering me to bed, so I might as well sign off.

Nashville on the Brazos

And to round off the final of the big three riverboat destinations on the northern Brazos, the site of Nashville on the Brazos is situated here somewhere between those railroad tracks and Highway 79. It obviously sat closer to the river than Port Sullivan or Fort Tenoxtitlan, primarily because the river banks are much higher here.
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Fort Tenoxtitlan

Centered in the bow of the pictured creek is the site of Fort Tenoxtitlan, roughly between modern College Station and Caldwell. It was abandoned by or before 1860, due to repeated Indian raids. There is no road to the site itself, only an old historical marker nearby and a newer historical marker on Highway 21 where the old Camino Real crossed the Brazos. Reportedly, nothing remains of Fort Tenoxtitlan or it's nearby township, an easy thing to believe after my recent visit to the old site of Port Sullivan. But, after the Civil War, there probably should have still been ruins there . . . a thought that makes an interesting setting for a possible story.

Unfortunately, I am going to be very busy for the rest of this week in preparation for our vacation in Galveston. That means no real chance at writing. So I'm pretty much reduced to just brainstorming for ideas until I return from vacation. That's about eleven days. So I guess the trick is not to force it, but just relax and see what comes to me. Hopefully I'll get to do some research while I'm in Galveston as well. I need fuel for the little grey cells to chew on so I can do some serious writing when I return.
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We Interrupt This Blog . . .

. . . to comment on things of monumental importance. Namely, that NFL training camps open this friday.

Thank goodness!

The best time of the year is nearly here. The truly good things in life are about to manifest themselves again. Soon, a warm TV and a cold Dr. Pepper will make my Sundays bearable once more. The game and the drink of the gods! I love this stuff! And if Rowan tests negative for corn allergies . . . POPCORN! HOMEMADE CORN CHIPS! FRITO PIES! WOOHOO!!! Me and my girl will enjoy the game together.

I have my fingers crossed.

Charred Markers

My parents and I visited the site of Port Sullivan along the Brazos River. All that remains is a graveyard, on the bluff overlooking the river. While parts of the old graveyard have been cleared and restored, other parts lie buried in the brambles and woods. It's also obvious that over the decades of neglect it has been visited by vandals from time to time. There are tombstones knocked over, and some broken.

The oddest thing though were the burned grave markers. I didn't know that they made tombstone shaped markers out of wood in the first place. But even weirder, somebody had obviously set some of them on fire. I thought for a second that maybe they had gotten charred in a grass fire or something like that, but you had charred markers sitting by unburnt ones. So this was most definitely due to a selective act of petty arson. It conjured a rather eerie image in my head, and I might be using these as a basis for an upcoming story.

It was also revealing to stand at the edge of the graveyard, which is also at the edge of the bluff, and look down across the river bottom at the river itself. I had operated under the illusion that the steamboats docked at Port Sullivan itself, but that must not have been the case. The town didn't set right on the edge of the river, but on a rise a little ways away. They must have heard a steamboat bell or whistle and then went down to the dock by the river.

Overall, I think the trip was a success. I got a lot of good input and impressions, which is what a lot of writing research is all about.

Weekend Follis

I'll be gone for the weekend.

First, I need to fill out these contracts with Pill Hill Press, and get them mailed off. Then I need to pack Rowan and I for our trip to Nonnie and Daddo's house in Bryan. Try a get a couple of other things done, then it will be time to hit the road.

My parents have offered to help me visit the site of Port Sullivan. Port Sullivan was the northern end of the steamboat route on the Brazos River, back before the Civil War. It was once a thriving town. Now there is nothing left but a cemetery. I just want to stand in the place that people did a long time ago, and try to imagine their world. Then maybe I can set a couple of stories in it.

On another note, Windows 7 will be coming out soon. I've been putting off getting a laptop till then. It would be nice to be able to write on the road, or when somebody else has the computer.

Finished.

I have now fixed the flaws in "Closing Time" that Cherri found for me at Denny's last night. This story is now finished and is being moved to the "waiting to submit" folder.

I want to thank Claire (Charlie) Paul and Cherri Galbiati for all the help they have provided as proof readers for me, and finding the problems with stories that got past me. Thanks ladies. You guys make me a better writer.

Another Good NIghts Work

Went to Denny's with Cherri Galbiati last night for our weekly writer's get together.

She gave "Closing Time" a read through, and except for a couple of small errors she underlined, pronounced it ready for submission. Good deal, I'll try and fix those before heading out of town this weekend, and then I can put the story away until I find somewhere to submit it.

This weekend I'll be visiting the site of Port Sullivan, along the Brazos River. According to what I've read, what once used to be a thriving town of over 1,500 people is now just a graveyard overgrown with brush. I might make a good setting for a story though, and it's within driving distance of my parents house, so it's worth checking out. I intend to dabble in historical fiction one day, and my first inclination is to set that future story on a Brazos River steamboat.

Ah well, that story is far down the production line. My next project will likely be a sci-fi, involving zombies in space. I've got an idea for that, and maybe I'll have time to work on it a little next week before vacation. Now I have a lot of housework to do so I can get the boy out the door to spend the weekend at his cousins' house, while I spend the weekend at my parents.

Poor Karla has to work and will be forced to lay around the house all alone this weekend.

Looking Onwards

Lately, I have been asked if I intended to write another novel, or if I was just going to continue on with short stories. I've been thinking about that, trying to give that question the thought it deserves. After all, it's a question that I need to answer for myself as well.

My first attempt at writing was a novel comprised of three novellas. It was an act of enthusiasm, daring, ignorance, vanity, and hope. Naturally it got rejected. And as I learn more about the field of writing, I can see the rejection was entirely justified. Fortunately, during the period of time between my finishing the novel and it's rejection, I also wrote a couple of short stories. Those were accepted. The acceptance of those stories mitigated the disappointment of having the novel rejected, and also gave me the perspective to stand back and learn a little from my experiences so far. The first thing being the realization that the short stories had benefited from the lessons learned while writing the novel, even though the novel failed. A few more accepted short stories later, and I'm beginning to get the barest grasp on what I'm doing.

And that's the important thing I've come to understand. I'm a novice at this, and it's important I take that role seriously so that I can do it right. I'm learning. I'm building both a knowledge base and the ensuing confidence that comes from knowing what you are doing. So right now, I'm focusing on short stories. I'm learning the techniques, the market, the business, and the people from the relative safety of the short story writer.

I do intend to attempt novels again, including a rewrite of my first one. But as I learn how much I don't know, I want to be sure and be ready for my next attempt. I want it to be a more focused and thought out attempt next time, based on a better skillset and greater amount of knowledge about my craft and the business.

So for the rest of this year, I'm going to focus on short stories. That gets my name out there, and it also has me doing business on a much more frequent basis with other writers and publishers. This helps me build up that aforementioned experience and confidence. I challenged myself to write 12 publishable short stories this year. I will focus on that, and reevaluate my objective at New Years.

Success

Another story sold.

This time "Storm Chase", formerly "The Revenant", has been accepted for publication by Pill Hill Press.

That makes five short stories sold this year, and two being polished in the wings. That means I'm still reasonably on track for my goal of writing 12 publishable short stories this year.

It can be done.

Editing Week

Okay, I've made a decision.

I'll commit the rest of the week to editing the stories I already have written. That's just part of the writing process, and I have a book that claims it can be fun. Whoopie!

Seriously though, it's probably the best use of my time since I'll be heading out of town on Friday. That doesn't give me enough time to write any stories, so it's either research or edit. Since I'll be visiting the Port Sullivan site for research this weekend, I might as well get some editing done.

Let the fun begin!

Update:

Stayed out till one o'clock at Denny's, editing "Closing Time". I have to admit, I think it really benefitted from it. It still needs to be gone over, sentence by sentence. But it is now officially a strong second draft. On the negative side, I slipped and ate a bunch of potato chips while incorporating the revisions at home on my computer. Sigh. It's always something.

Indecision

Now what?

Do I start a new story? I don't really have an idea for one yet, but generating one generally takes time and effort itself. If I intend to get in on the Final Twist anthology (no sure thing even if I write a story) then I need to move on that.

Do I finish editing "Rite of Passage?" That could be done in a day or two. . . probably less.

Do I start editing "Closing Time?" It's in dire need of it.

Do I do an edit and trim of "The Revenant" to shop around at web magazines? It's written, it just needs about twenty or thirty words trimmed out of it to get it below 4000 words . . . a maximum word count for many publications.

Gah! This is all beginning to uncomfortably remind me of work! It wasn't supposed to be this way! I was just supposed to generate prose like a fountain and have legions of adoring fans come and do my housework. What happened to that?

And decisions! Sometimes that can be paralyzing. Sigh. My ADHD is kicking in fiercely here, and thwarting me. I wonder if Stephen King ever has this problem?

Movement in Horror (stream of thought)

At Apollocon, somebody complemented me on my story, "Rite of Passage", by saying "That was a great story of somebody going where they should not go." That sentence got me thinking.

Isn't that pretty much what horror is all about?

I did a quick inventory of my horror stories and realized the above line pretty much applied to all of them but two, "Designated Driver," and "Closing Time." And in designated driver, the protagonist is going somewhere. The difference with "Closing Time" is the bad thing came to the protagonist.

So there is that movement in horror. The victim approaching the bad thing (usually unaware), or the bad thing coming to the victim. Most horror movies I can think of tend to utilize the former recipe, although a few good ones have used the latter.

Maybe that's why setting is critical in horror. The threat more often than not is directly connected with somewhere the protagonist goes. That there are "bad places" out there, which are better left unentered. Some look mundane and unthreatening, while others are the classic ruin of gothic literature. Each have their own attractions.

I just never had broken it down that way before. I wonder if it is a useful point of view that could help me write, or just another bit of sophistry with no practical application. Ah well, it was something to muse over tonight.

Musings on Final Twist Project

In regards to finding a Texas landmark, I wonder if the Brazos River would count. Or what about Port Sullivan? I think I know how to find it now. It might be worth making a visit.

I've already decided, now that the Baker Hotel is no longer in consideration, that whatever landmark I choose will have to be close enough for me to visit and look over without undue strain on time or resources. The only complication is that places in Houston and Galveston have been taken by four authors each, which means no new stories can be situated there.

I'll start using Google maps to see if anything interesting comes up within driving distance. Maybe Washington on the Brazos? I've never been there.

UPDATE

Interesting. I just learned of a place called Fort Parker. Definately a historic landmark, although it's up near Groesbeck. An interesting piece of Texas history happened there. Apparently it was overrun by Indians. Now they have rebuilt the fort to show what it looked like back then. Very interesting.

Woohoo!

Tonight I put pen to the final line of the first draft "Closing Time." Well, actually I typed it but I think everybody gets the idea.

There is still a lot of editing and revising left to do, but it's always a moment of celebration when you finally get a story "done". That makes seven short stories this year for me. Four have been accepted, one rejected, and two are awaiting the proper time for submission. Not bad. I'll probably spend the next couple of weeks before vacation, just editing and finalizing the two unsubmitted stories. "Rite of Passage" is in a close to final state, just needing to have some of the issues pointed out at the writers workshop dealt with. That won't take long. "Closing Time" is still in it's infancy, meaning I can spot problems on page one. Still, as an overall story it works and it reads fast and easy.

Ah well, off to bed.

A Landmark Too Far

As I have mentioned before, I joined a writers group called The Final Twist. Once a year they put out an anthology of short stories written by the authors in their group. This year they theme for the stories they are accepting is "Texas landmarks". In other words I can submit a story to them for consideration into their anthology, but it has to use a Texas landmark as it's setting.

Pictured, is the setting I would be very interested in using. It's the Baker Hotel in Mineral Wells, Texas. It's an old hotel that was visited by golden age Hollywood stars like Clark Gable, Judy Garland, The Three Stooges, Roy Rogers, and Lawrence Welk. Now it sits, an abandoned hulk, in the center of Mineral Wells.

I have a the rough idea of what could be a decent story, using this hotel as a setting, but I would need to visit the place first. I need to walk through it, get a feel for it's layout, and it's current condition. Since the story in question is a mystery, I would need to know several key features of the place. I would want to take pictures of the things and charactoristics that would be important to the story. Probably a little video too.

A well, the earliest I could possibly head that way would be sometime in September. And that wouldn't give me much time to write the story. At least if I intended to make the anthology's deadline. I would have to write fast. It's still worth visiting though. Between now and then, I'll try to think up a landmark closer to home.

UPDATE

Drat! When looking through the Baker Motel website, I discovered that they no longer give tours, by order of the Fire Chief. Oh well, it was an idea.

Another Glorious Morning

Bleeeaarrghh!

After staying up all night the night before, I went to bed early last night and slept straight through till morning. Alas, my cruel wife woke me and insisted on me dealing with children, or I could have gotten more badly needed shuteye. So I heroically sloughed out of bed, shambled to the kitchen, and somehow managed to get the kiddos fed and the boy off to school despite my deprived condition.

Now I face the computer, and I'm drawing a blank. I have to take Rowan to her speech therapist this afternoon, and then a visit to her pediatrian over a suspected ear infection. Mucho driving in Houston traffic.

Not much time for writing today. Oh well, I'm at the big reveal where the ghost shows up in my short story anyways so I need all the thought I can put into this. These things have to be done right.

All This and Talent Too.

Awesome. Now my writers/vacation ensemble is complete. The wife took pics to memorialize the moment, capturing this amazing combination of taste, talent, and raw manhood for all time. She is one lucky gal.

On another front, I stayed up all last night but got a good bit done on the short story. I'm just now reaching the climactic part, which is always the most delicate to handle. I already know I'm going to have to go back and expand on it a bit, as I got a couple of ideas for it while resting before the kids got up.

Maybe with a little luck and elbow grease I'll have a very rough, not quite first draft to show Cherri at our little writing get together at Denny's tomorrow night.

We shall see.

Back to Work

I'm currently working on trying to finish a short story before the end of the week. It's another ghost story, called "Closing Time", and one that I'm hoping to submit for a future ghost story anthology that I've been told that LL Dreamspell will one day open for submissions. That one and "Rite of Passage" will give me two in the wings so to speak, for whenever the anthology opens.

After that, I suppose I might try a change of genre.

It's just that ghost stories seem to be what occur naturally to me. I guess it's the result of terror filled nights as a kid, waiting to see what horror would be stepping out of the closet. But you couldn't keep me away from those saturday afternoon matinees on tv during the day. I lived for those things. Then when I ran into some setting later, my horror movie fueled mind would inevitably create some grisly scenario just so I would feel a little uncomfortable there. And from those imaginings the stories spring. The ruin in "Rite of Passage" is really the old retirement home that used to be in Cleburne Texas that I skulked around as a kid. The store in "Closing Time" is the little convienence store I used to work in while living in Round Rock. Even "Designated Driver" is based on my imaginings while driving home from the cotton gin in Jonah late at night. "Picking Dewberries" is exactly that, a memory of hunting dewberries on the sandy back roads of my youth, and the imaginings that kept my young self nervous when near the fence.

I find it no coincidence that the one short story I've had rejected is one that has absolutely no autobiographical elements whatsoever, and one that I was trying to be clever and crafted wholesale with certain writing strategies in mind.

I suppose that's why I want to take field trips and visit new settings. Just to let my mind absorb them and do it's thing. It's more natural that way and I write better stories.

Pants

I have gone to Academy and successfully returned with a bunch of new cargo shorts. I will not go into the size involved, suffice it to say that I'm delighted to find a non elastic pair that fits me.

Pants are an important part of writing. Faulkner wore pants. F. Scott Fitzgerald wore pants. Hemingway wore pants. Therefore pants matter. Now that I'm suitably equipped with pants, I expect my writing to improve. The fact that they are cargo shorts that go well with my straw hat should only make my prose all the better.

I expect great things.

Conversation over Frito Chili Pies

Reading Hemingway

Today, I got my copy of "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" in the mail. I found the time to sit down and read the title story, and wow . . . just wow.

The man had an incredible economy of word. And while the topic of the title story was an unhappy one, I didn't get the book for light reading. Of course, he wasn't a genre writer and currently I am, but that doesn't mean there isn't anything to be learned by reading him.

I'll spend more time over the weekend with some of his stories, but I'm going to have to split that with the time I plan on spending with Sheridan. You have to live life too, if you're going to write about it.

Field Trips

One of the more active things about writing that I never anticipated is the need for research.

If you are going to put a story in a particular setting or era, you need to know something about it. . . unless you just thrive off of people showing up from time to time to inform you of how wrong you are on something. Not being one of those people, I kind of like to get things reasonably right. And since I feel that one of the core ideas of writing is to pass an experience to your audience, then it is important that I have some actual experience with the subject at hand instead of just having read about it on the internet.

Which brings up the necessity for field trips. I need to get out more anyways, and it would probably be good for the wife and kids too. Who am I kidding? It would definitely be good for the wife and kids too. Sometimes though, I realize the things I want to look at would probably bore the kids to tears. . .Karla too, but I'm sure she will claim her reluctance would be totally for the kids benefit. But where to go?

I hear they give weekend tours of the old Baker's Hotel in Mineral Wells, but that's several hours away and we would never find Rowan if she got loose in there. But what a setting! It might be just the ticket for the Final Twist landmark anthology. Sometime I will have to find the old historical marker and graveyard where Port Sullivan used to be. Another venture that would likely bore the kids to distraction, and I'm sure Karla just dreams of sitting out in the middle of nowhere in the Texas heat. Regardless, we need to start getting out. And it's time Sheridan starts getting a historical sense of his area anyways. It would be good to do as a family from time to time, and for others maybe I can recruit a different companion. . . because I sure ain't going into the Baker's Hotel alone.

Steamboats on Texas Rivers

I've been kind of curious about steamboats in Texas history. They are hardly mentioned, and most people don't even know that Texas rivers were once used by them. These weren't the huge fabulous steamboats of the Mississippi, but were smaller, working cotton haulers like the one pictured. Ones like the Alabama would have been working their way up the Brazos, sometimes as far as Port Sullivan near Hearne.

I'll be curious to see if there are any mention of them in some of the Galveston museums that I hope to get the wife to let me visit. I would love to see an actual picture of some of the Texas steamboats. They would make an interesting setting for a story or two. . . but I would have a lot of research ahead of me to get it right.

Looking For A Landmark

I joined the authors group called The Final Twist recently, and they are in the process of trying to put together an anthology of short stories that take place in Texas "landmarks." Authors are reserving their landmarks so there is no doubling up, and places like Longhorn Caverns, The Driskoll Hotel, and Big Bend have been taken.

Since I'm a late joiner, I'm going to need to figure out a good landmark and what kind of story to write in it fairly quickly. I'll have to look around the area, since I'm not sure I would be comfortable using a landmark as a setting that I have never visited. I would like a fairly fresh memory of the place, and preferably photos and video along with it, while trying to place a story there.

Ah well, I guess right now this is one of those good kinds of problems.

How to Depress Yourself with Technology

I was playing around with Google Maps last night, and decided to see if I could find some old sites from my childhood.

I went to Cleburne, Texas because that is the closest thing I had to a home town as a kid. Then I used the street level feature to drive up and down W. Chambers street, where I used to live. I literally had to double check to make sure I was on the right street. Everything I knew was gone. What was once a tree lined residential street where I and my childhood friends rode our bikes, was now a rather barren and destitute looking road that obviously was used as a back feeder road to the main street a block away. What few houses remained were looking pretty bad, and rather far apart from what used to be a neighborhood with a house in every lot. They had even asphalted over the creek on west chambers near the downtown area in such a way that you almost missed it.

You really can't go home again, even with the power of Google.

On a slightly more positive note, I figured out how to get where the town of Port Sullivan used to be. My parents had tried it once, but the directions they had were unclear and they ended up on somebodies property. It turns out they took the wrong road in towards the river. Next time I'm in that area, I'll have to go back there and look for the historical marker.

Joy

Remember when the world was new? When the presents that appeared under the tree each Christmas was a miracle? When colored eggs may very well have been left to gleam in the grass by a large rabbit with a basket? When the bushes in the back yard concealed tigers, and the closet at night contained monsters.

And who knew what magic conjured the fireworks that decorated the very sky with fiery plumage and glowing floral bursts.

Childhood is about wonder, and living in the world of the possible. A state that transcends hope itself.

It's something we lose as the world delivers lesson after lesson on limitations and impossibilities. Important lessons, but ones we tend to take as all encompassing and axiomatic, the things we use to build the foundations of adulthood without questioning if maybe we should mix our mortar with a little of the gemdust of yore.

To me, thats part of what writing is. Dipping my proverbial pen in the gemdust and conjuring the possible. Even in my horror stories, for monsters did indeed lurk in my closets and they demand their due. But it's something that can infuse almost any type of story. Like childhood, writing is about the possible . . . and I just have to hope that I can be good enough to include a little wonder in there from time to time.

Meh. . .

Not much to report today. I'm working on a short story that I'm not terribly thrilled with. It's not "bad", but it doesn't really do anything for me. But since I can't think of anything better to write, I figure I'll stick with it and finish it. Who knows, the finished product may be better than it's parts.

On the other hand, we are finally having some rain today. Thank goodness! We have really, really been needing it. The back yard is standing in water, a reminder that one day I'm going to have to figure out how to make it drain better back there. Ah well, that just has to go on the "one of these days" list.

Ah well, back to the grind. . .

A Piece of Summer

July 4th

Had a great July the Fourth.

I went with my father, and my brother Randy, to watch baseball at the park...and then we enjoyed fireworks with the kids after the game.

I tried to pay close attention to the game, the crowd, and everything. I wanted to drink it all in so I could better express it sometime if I ever needed to write about it. It's funny, being a writer sort of makes you like a kid all over again. You become intent on trying to take it all in, and you enjoy the hell out of it like you did when you were twelve years old. There is so much there.

The kids had a great time too. Sometimes you can experience joy through their eyes in ways that were long forgotten. The world is still new to them. The fireworks are still magic. The smallest parades are still grand. And the future is nowhere near as crucial as the now.

Sometimes it's good to get back a little more in tune with the now.

Reminiscing

I'm sitting here at one in the morning, writing while Karla and kids sleep, and listening to internet radio. I just had this overwhelming feeling of nostalgia, and remembered sitting up at night as a teenager, listening to X Rock 80 on the radio. It was a mexican radio station that blasted rock all over the southern US at about 150,000 watts back in the 70s. God, how time moves on . . .

Wouldn't You Know It. . .

After deciding to take a break from writing, and letting the little gray cells rest, I'm out working in the front yard when an idea for a short story strikes. I'm putting down topsoil on some bare spots in the yard and inspiration just comes out of nowhere. I'm not sure if I want to sit down and write it yet or not. Maybe I'll just make a note of it and save it for later. . .

I don't know.

Writers Night Out

Cherri Galbiati and I went out to Denny's last night for our weekly writers pow wow. I was bad and gave in to the temptation of cheesy fries and soda. It's okay though because Cherri did too, thus mitigating my guilt. Tomorrow I crawl back on the wagon though.

I've decided to take a bit of rest from writing for a bit, and catch up on my reading. I've been trying to hard to force stories, and maybe I just need to refuel the old mental tanks. Besides, I haven't read much of current genre material and I need to get caught up on what is the norm nowadays. And if some really good idea comes to mind for a story, I'm still free to write it. I'm just not going to try and force anything. I have already written over a hundred thousand words since Thanksgiving, and it's been suggested to me that I might be running the risk of burnout.

I certainly don't want that.

So I'll focus on reading, housework, Rowan, and getting ready for July 4th this week. Unless of course that aforementioned brilliant idea pops up.