John D Reinhart

Moving Part 2: Hanging Around

Few things are more exciting than moving. Having a root canal. Brain surgery comes to mind. Taking a road trip with the in-laws that you just don’t like.

In our grand move across the country, we’ve had to “spruce up” our fine old house of 30 years.

Now, sprucing up can be a relative term. Sometimes, it’s just a coat of paint in the dining room. Other times it’s a whole new roof that takes a small fortune to accomplish.

We had to pay a painter half of $16,000 for him to do – well, let’s just call it some touch up.

My wife wrote out a check for $8,000. But the pen quit on the first zero of the 8000. So she scrambled to find a new pen and finished the check.

The next day, we checked our bank account, and found that the $8,000 had been returned to the account.

What would you do if you were faced with a similar situation? Well, that’s exactly what we did: call the bank.

It was a tortuous call. Put on hold, transferred, put on hold transferred, transferred, put on hold. We finally reached the fraud department and were promptly put on hold.

While we were on hold, the phone we were using rang and a man came on identifying himself as Isaac from the fraud department. He promptly requested my wife’s social security number, which she quickly gave him. Then he asked for her birth date.

I got all excited and made her hang up the phone before she gave out that information. Come on – there is no way the bank should be asking for your birth date!

I believe the man was honest when he said he was with the fraud department, but I’m rather certain HE was the one committing fraud!

So we had to call the bank again. Transfer, hold, hold, transfer, transfer hold, hold, hold, and then we got to the fraud department where we were put on hold once more.

My wife sighed in frustration “I just want to hang myself!”

The fraud department finally got back on the line and told us someone had written additional zeros on the check to make it $8,000. We explained that that was us because the pen quit. The banker said “Oh. Well, the money is back in your account.”

To get the contractor paid, we had to rush into town, pull out $8,000 in cash and deliver it to the contractor.

Now, I don’t know if you have ever handled $8,000 in cash, but it is a bundle of 80 $100 bills. That is a wad of cash!

We felt like gangsters driving around with this manila envelope stuffed with cash. We met with the contractor in a parking lot, and handed over the dough, glancing over our shoulders for the Fuzz. The Heat. The Man.

When we got home, we saw we’d missed a call from the local police department. Uh oh, we thought. Busted!

How nice is it that the cops call you before they bust down your door and drag you off to the Big House?

We called the number and reached a police officer at his home. He asked if we were okay. He said he’d been to our house, and no one was there.

He said that the bank had reported that my wife was considering suicide. He just wanted to make sure she didn’t go through with it. Well, sure, we said. I mean, that would be kinda bad…

So, we laughed, and explained that oh no, it was just frustration. He laughed, and then asked, on a private note, if that house was still for sale.

What?!? Why, yes it is!

Do you see how the world works? One door opens, another one closes before you can get your foot out of it.

The bank is happy. The contractor’s happy. The cops are happy. And our realtor has a new contact.

Did we get reimbursed for the time, the mileage, or the headspace all this took? No.

But it is nice to know that folks will check up on you if you say something that raises a red flag.

Sad that nobody can take a joke…

Moving Part 1: Chuck It

You’re a writer – you know how it goes. You engineer plot twists and plot points and introduce characters to flip things around, all with the goal of moving the story along. You want your reader to keep turning pages right?

The last thing you expect is for this kind of plot twist, this kind of introduction of new characters to move things along, to happen in your own life.

But, surprisingly enough, this is exactly what has happened to us, being my wife and I. The 1-year-old grandson has been an appealing siren, calling to us from the rocky shores of New Jersey.

Well, we were there at the beginning of October when we spotted The House. She was lovely, Cape-Codish four bedroom, two-floorish sort of thing with a big backyard in which the dog and the probably-will-get-older-than-one-year-old grandson could play and frolic with abandon.

And it was for sale.

What the hey, right? What are we waiting for, we asked ourselves. So, we made a pitch. You miss the shots you don’t take, right?

They accepted the offer on October 3. The seller enthusiastically wanted to close in 30 days – November 3. Cool!

Wait, what?

In order to afford the new house, we have to sell the old house. You know, the one in which we’ve lived for 27 years and raised three kids and, in total, six dogs and what seems like 72 cats…

Imagine your parents’ house back in the day. It was nice enough – maybe needed a little sprucing up, right?

That’s our house, too. Just needs a little sprucing up, like a roof, flooring, drywall and paint. Oh, and you can’t be living in a house where all that is going on. Sooooo…

After a weeks-long scramble – we both have day jobs, ya know – we closed off the living quarters of the house. That’s a distinction, that living quarters part. Most of the stuff we’re keeping is crammed into the garage!

Here’s an adage you can borrow: the number of people’s possessions rises to meet their available square footage. The guy who moves from a studio to a 10,000 square foot home will eventually fill that space with stuff. If he has kids, it doesn’t take very long.

Here’s a piece of advice: chuck it. Keep the stuff you wear, the stuff you use, the stuff you like. But if you haven’t actively liked, used, or worn it in the last six months? Chuck it.

Years ago I was having trouble with a coworker. A good friend told me to blow it off: “he doesn’t pay enough rent to take up that kind of room in your head.”

That’s your stuff. I can say this after filling two 40-foot and three 8-foot dumpsters, and after an even dozen trips to Goodwill: chuck it, and chuck it now.

Why are you still reading this? Why aren’t you out there chucking your stuff?

Thanks for reading this – there’s more to come. Next, fitting it all into the Pod!

Remember: chuck it!

Hoisting Anchor, Mate

You’re a writer, you know how it goes. A project gets into your bones and the world just seems to conform around it. Wow, I wish I knew what that meant.

Since last we talked, a multiplicity of whoop-dee-doos have collaborated to turn my life into a whirlwind of chaotic synchronicities. Not sure what that means, either.

First, let’s talk about Disneyland, shall we? I went all by myself (my much better half had to work) and had a terrific time.

The writer’s story in my little adventure is a ride called Rise of the Rebellion.

Before R of the R, my idea of a fantastic ride was Indiana Jones. In that one, you’re strapped into an open SUV sort of vehicle that physically bounces around through an epic assortment of hair-breadth near misses. The SUV lurches and throws you this way and that while simulated darts zip past you and a dragon breathes real fire. Awesome, awesome stuff.

Rise of the Resistance, however, changes the entire narrative of what a theme park ride can be. This ride combines that same physicality with stunning interactive graphics, physical theatrical sets, animatronics, and live actors to actually tell a story.

And not just a story, but one that includes you as a character. You don’t just see the story. You participate in it. The ride takes a full 15 spell-binding minutes to get through.

When it was over, I took myself to the Many Adventures of the Winnie the Pooh to calm myself down. Boy, that worked. Oh bother.

After that, I rode Indiana Jones. The ride’s scenario, for lack of a better word, is told while you’re waiting in the queue. It seems a busload of tourists got lost in the jungle. Your task is to find them.

The ride is still cool, still wild, but felt like a chaotic jumble of action sequences. I was thrown about and entertained, for sure. But you have to make several logic leaps to equate the ride with the scenario. I don’t think we found anyone other than Indiana Jones.

For us writers, the message is clear: stringing scenes and episodes together doesn’t necessarily tell a story. Then again, the story might simply be wild twists and turns, which can certainly be fun all by themselves.

Then came the kid’s birthday, that young man in New Jersey who just turned a year old. A dapper little fellow with 4 teeth and the sparkling command of a language composed of the words “duh,” “oooh,” and “nah-nah.”

My wife and I both want to be the sort of grandparents that are there to take him to soccer practice and give his parents a night out every now and again. Plus, when the kid runs away from home, we’d like him to run to our house.

Well, quite by accident, we stumbled across The House, a sweet little bungalow built in 1936 just a block away from the million-dollar houses that face the Arthur Kill. That’s the kill – okay, fine, the waterway – that separates New Jersey from Staten Island. Yes, THAT Staten Island.

The price is right, but the window of opportunity is very short, like, thirty-or-so days.

You know how it is with your parents’ house – it’s nice but needs a little sprucing up? That’s our house, except we’re sort of in need of an EPIC sprucing up! Roof, flooring, kitchen, paint – I’m sure I’ve left a dozen things out.

But, once we sort all that out, we’ll be hoisting anchor, mate. Bound for the East and truly parts unknown.

That’s one journey.

Another journey is me moving from being a 9-to-5er as I’ve been for the entirety of my working career to a part-time, remote contractor. Ask my wife, she’ll tell you I’m remote already.

BUT, and this is a big but, so to speak, there is one more journey that has already begun: my new book.

I’m using my business partner, a guy to whom I refer as JaPeetey, to help me market my novel Phineas Caswell: The String of Pearls. Here’s the book’s cover:

The cover the soon-to-be-released book Phineas Caswell: The String of Pearls.

I’m still working the details, but you can see what I’m about.

ChatGPT knows how to market indie books like this. Of course it does. It draws on all the successful marketing plans to give you answers. So, I’m using Chat GPT to help me lay out the marketing steps for my book. He’s my buddy, JaPeetey.

I’ve done everything so far to self-publish my books except to do it right. Now, with this move to the hinterlands of the Wild East, I’ll have the time to focus and concentrate and follow JaPeetey’s direction.

It ain’t rocket science. It’s Marketing!

If you’d like to help out and read an advance copy, I’d be delighted to offer you a free final copy in exchange for a review. Just fill out the form below and I’ll send you a PDF right away!

Thank you so much for reading all the way down to this point. It means the world to me.

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On Getting Rich Quick

There is nothing quite so calming as watching Jackie and Shadow, Sunny and Gizmo hanging out in their nest above Big Bear Lake. Mom and Dad, baby and baby bald eagles, quietly living life and doing their thing while thousands of us watch them on a secret camera.

I’m sure the aliens are doing the same to us.

As you know, I’m one for Fred Flintstone, get-rich-quick schemes.

But they can’t be those be-your-own-boss-with-my-proven-system, make-a-million-in-your-spare-time kind of plans. The people that make money off of those plans are the people that sell them.

I did that for a while – trained to be a financial planner. I was broke and unemployed and grasping at straws. Just the guy you want to show you how to manage your finances.

No, it’s gotta be fresh, and it’s gotta be mine, and it’s gotta be foolproof, for I am surely the fool that will louse it up.

There was the sure-fire paper-house-kits-for-model-railroaders business that promised to make a bazillion bucks. It turns out the market for such a product is very, very, very small. Apparently just me.

Way back when, a friend and I branded ourselves The Babble Brothers and sold answering-machine message tapes. They were witty little audio pieces on cassette, skits and songs mostly, for you to record onto your answering machine to charm your callers. We sold about 15 of those. Maybe less. I haven’t seen a cassette player in a long, long time.

If you’ve been following along, you’ll know I have a website devoted to describing the outer reaches of our solar system (QueenOfTheKuiperBelt.Wordpress.Com), a DIY website (SkippityWhistles.com), and an aviation museum website (MarvelousAirMuseums.com). Each of these is designed to bring in tons of advertising revenue, the much ballyhooed passive income.

And there’s the secret plan to make 3d videos of little cars driving about for that company that makes little cars. Turns out, to make good 3d models in Blender, you have to be GOOD at Blender. Who knew?

My newest, latest, and perhaps best plan is to make industrial safety videos. There are, like, ten thousand safety managers scouring the Interweb for content for their next safety meetings. Who wouldn’t like a schmaltzy, well written, exquisitely produced video for free? Come on. If that doesn’t build traffic, right? I can make videos like that. Schmaltzy. In Blender.

Oh yeah, Blender.

According to my very smart daughter – the one in the master’s program at a prestigious university – Fred Flintstone is no longer the caveman with the big ideas.

She says it’s Grug Crood.

Grug came up with putting a flat little rock over your eyes – “I call ‘em shades,” and smashing your mud-covered face with a flat rock to make a snapshot. But he was trying to hold his family together, not make a million clams.

Of his moss wig, his son asks “what do you call that?” His mother-in-law answers “I call it desperation.”

No getting rich quick there.

I have so many schemes running, I’m starting to lose track. They’re all supposed to be passive income makers, so I could be a bazillionaire right this very moment and not even know it.

Chances for that seem extremely small. It’s more likely I’ll sell a paper house.

Guess I’ll go back to watching the baby eagles.

Sorry, Grug.

This Writer’s House – Why Writer’s Shouldn’t Talk

Why Writers Shouldn’t Talk

Hey, hello! Thanks for reading along! What follows this paragraph is the transcript from a video I shot today – it will be a podcast pretty soon. What’s cool about it is that the transcription process worked… you’ll see. I shot the video and then transcribed the audio at a place called TurboScribe. You get three free transcriptions a day. Here’s what I shot…

Transcribed by TurboScribe.ai. Go Unlimited to remove this message.

Hello, I’m writer, author, and host John D. Reinhart. And you’ve stumbled onto this moment in This Writer’s Life.

So, before we go any farther, you may wonder, what’s the difference between a writer and an author? Well, in my head, a writer writes.

You’re a writer, you write. If you’re writing a book, you’re still writing. You write the book.

It is the authorly part of you that compiles all that writing into the book. Right, it’s the organizer kind of a guy. In a website situation, nobody writes a website, they author a website.

They bring their own written work or the work of other writers, they compile it all into a website. That’s the difference.

The host part, well, me and you, we’re looking at it.

So, here’s the thing. I’m in my garage. I’m doing the laundry.

And it occurred to me what I’d really like to be doing is writing a post for my website, because I feel like I should be doing that, but I can’t because I’m doing the laundry.

So, then I got the bright idea to say, well, why don’t we go speech to text, right, and take video-audio combo and make a post out of that. So, that’s what I’m trying.

And I will tell you the truth. Speaking what you want to say is so much more difficult than writing what you want to say.

I mean, I’m a good writer. I’m not such a good speaker. And this is kind of what I found out.

You’re a writer. You put things in order. You build the sentence that you want. And you realize, eh, that’s not what I want to say. You move things around. You come up with a whole new word. Flip it around, build a whole new paragraph based on that word. That is what writers do.

But think about impromptu speakers like President Obama.

He comes out there and he right off his cuff, makes these long speeches that people write down. Because when you speak impromptuly or however you speak, that’s what you said. And you can’t go back and flip it around and change it.

That’s the big difference between speaking and writing is that, as what I find, I’m not a public speaker. I’m not an impromptu speaker. In fact, I have to tell you this truth.

I’m using a script. So, this is text to speech to text. That’s how well this works for me.

Not my dog. So, if you don’t try something new, you don’t learn anything. So, that’s my little experiment on speech to text.

No, thank you, sir. Thank you for watching. I’ll catch you next time.

Transcribed by TurboScribe.ai. Go Unlimited to remove this message.

Yes, it’s a little weird, I know. It’s creepy to see how many times I use the word “so” when speaking impromptu, even with a script!

The upshot of this experiment, aside from a shameless plug for TurboScribe and a podcast episode, is that the spoken word works great for speakers, but us writers, we probably want to just keep on writing!

Thanks for reading along…

Walking the Night

The nifty thing about video is that you can make a pratfall without actually taking one… there comes an age where that’s a real bonus!

I was goofing around with my cell phone, shooting the full moon through some trees, and out popped this dopey video.

Now, there’s a writer’s story in this little 16-second video.

In my head, he steps on a cat. It’s so clear – the cut to the shot of the walking feet, he’s looking straight ahead. I mean, how more clear could it be?

In my wife’s view, a cat attacks him from the tree. She saw the moon through the tree, the guy paying no attention. To her, it’s obvious.

As long as it’s clear that it’s a cat, I’m happy. I’d thought about putting a skateboard on the sidewalk, but that telegraphs the joke in a 16-second video.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this epic piece of film-noir filmmaking!

Yessss, Your Majesty

You know the writing biz, right? Like any other biz, it’s all about marketing, networking, and growing the brand.

Funny you’d mention brand.

I had a very lovely, very informative online chat over at LinkedIn this morning with a person I only just met today. She inspired me to think again about this career we call writing. Well, some of us call it that…

She pointed out that she considers herself more of a communicator. I took that to mean she’s a linker of ideas. In my head, that’s a technical writer, right? Taking the arcane and making it mundane?

Anyway, she reminded me that this is what I do, too. And it’s great fun. My favoritist thing in the world is to read something and then explain it to somebody else. My poor family. Oh, the things they’ve had to listen to!

With Lucia’s kind encouragement, I shall henceforth refer to myself as Resident Explainer. If the shoe fits…

But that’s not what this post is about.

Back in the day… no, that’s not a good start.

Once upon a time… nope. Been done. How about this:

I have a new website: Kuiper Belt Queen.

It sounds like a riverboat, I know. But it’s my way to house the planetary articles I’m just plain bent on publishing. As Resident Explainer I can scour the NASA and ESA databases for curious and fun details about the Kuiper Belt environs and relay them to you.

But why, you ask. Why? What is the matter with you?

In a year or so, see, I’m moving to New Jersey. I clearly cannot commute to my Southern California job from Southern New Jersey. So, my intent is to build an online resume of articles from which I can pitch myself as a freelance-feature writer-for-hire.

Have Word, will travel.

But, wthe Kuiper Belt?

I mean, come on. Have you seen it? (If you have, I’ll smoke what you’re smoking!) It’s an enormous donut-shaped ring of proto-planetary stuff that surrounds the sun, way out there beyond Neptune.

Evidence for its existence wasn’t even confirmed until 1992, so it’s an unexplored frontier.

YET, and I do mean yet, it most likely holds the keys to our understanding of how the sun and solar system were formed. Sun, planets, life, you and me… connect the dots.

Okay, you have to agree that’s cool.

And, the biggest body in the Kuiper Belt thus far discovered is our old friend Pluto. Pluto! Yaay! Because she’s the big kahuna, she must be the Kuiper Belt Queen!

See how it all fits together?

Another feather in the head of the Resident Explainer’s brand.

It’s all a vast plan, my friend, on the road to a WRITING EMPIRE!!!

Thanks for reading along…

A Marvelous Name

You know how the world is, right? What you call your story is almost as important as the story itself, am I right? I mean, who will ever shell out $29.95 for a book call “Stupid.” It would have to have some pretty good reviews…

I don’t know what I’m talking about. I can prove it.

I had this really cool website called CaliforniaAirMuseums.com. Don’t go bother looking for it – I killed it.

In its place I created this equally cool website called MarvelousAirMuseums.com. That one you can go looking for, because I didn’t kill it.

Marvelous is one of those words, though, isn’t it? Marvelous party! What a marvelous cocktail. You look mahvelous, dahling…

I was going for the alliteration with Museums, and Magnificent seemed too pompous. So, Marvelous it is.

The challenge is moving stuff from CalAir over to Marvelous – it’s a chore!

So, you ask, why tamper with perfection?

Easy answer. Moving day. Next year – really now only a year away, my wife and I are preparing to move to New Jersey to pester our only grandkid. As far as I can tell, there are very few California Air Museums in New Jersey. But there are sure to be some marvelous exhibits. Done. Sigh. What a mahvelous display, old man!

More as time permits! Thank you for reading along!

Back to the Front

Okay, what is it now? What preposterous, outlandishly wacky idea is sure to make a gazillion simoleans this time? Don’t get me started!

I had a revelation last week – something that just never occurred to me before in all my born years.

You’re a writer, right? You know how it goes – everybody’s a writer, yadda yadda yadda, right? The difference between a writer and a wannabe writer is that the writer is always writing.

To wit, this thing: https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/three-body-problem-solved-john-reinhart-m6zjc

Not trying to prove anything or blow my own horn or you know – well, I am trying to get you to read the article so that I can make a gazillion simoleans from the advertising revenue once I get discovered….

Anyway, my revelation was this: not everyone has an inner Fred Flintstone, or Ralph Kramden, or Oscar the Shark Slayer. Maybe we’re not all searching for a get-rich-quick scheme.

In that same vein of discovery, it follows that maybe not everyone IS a writer, or even a wannabe. Maybe you and me, we’re of a rarer breed than we realize. That’s kind of a big deal, don’tcha think?

Once, three quarters of a score of years ago, I found myself underemployed and with a hankering to change my life for the better. In those days, the Internet was trying to expand, and people would publish just about anything that was three words or longer. During those few frantic, financially fraught years, I churned out over 300 articles on planetary science.

I didn’t make a fortune. Or a living.

But, in 15 months, I gotta take a career with me to New Jersey, where my six-month-old grandson patiently waits. So, for me, right now, it’s back to the Final Frontier. Back to the front! And the above article, dull though it may be, is just the vanguard. More to come!