Among the wonderful things I learned at the San Francisco Writers Conference was to blog seriously and well. I have blogged seriously, but not always well. More than a couple of entries have done me less than proud. One was my infamous pity party on the page. Another was my cutesy attempt to turn some of the hundred best movie lines of all time into a lesson on dialogue.
With that one I started toward point A and wound up zigging and zagging to the unknown. No doubt, Rod Serling would call it "The Twilight Zone."
From here on I'm going to set up a different set of guidelines. The problem is I don't have them all finalized. I will promise not to post haphazardly, to consider each entry as a representation of my writing thrust into the blogosphere. Because lord knows I learned the hard way about admitting to the world that I'm bleeding. I'll bleed privately from now on.
In the original guidelines of the blog, I promised to post the good and the bad. I can still do that, but with great care. Therefore, I may not post every week, or I may post twice or three times in a week. Depends on what's happening. I'll formulate this as we go along, entry by entry. It'll be a constant work in progress.
For now, though, let me share some of my San Francisco experiences. I'll start with the Top of the Mark, where Princes, Presidents, Judy Garland and Elvis have spent time. The view is amazing. With good peripheral vision one can see both Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge. I have good peripheral vision. Breakfast is a bit pricey. It's a solid $12.95 buffet for $35.95. And Sunday's brunch is $70.09 per person. I'm a cross between cotton candy and a medicine ball, and I couldn't eat thirty-six bucks worth of breakfast.
I discovered that a cab ride to many restaurants in North Beach, combined with a glass of wine, is less expensive than a single glass of wine at the Top of the Mark. Still, I had a few up there because the view is so breathtaking. It's what I'll think of when I hear the name San Francisco.
I adored Fisherman Wharf, particularly Scoma's, where a friend and I had a wonderful dinner.
I enjoyed the City Lights Bookstore.
San Francisco is not Maui, but it shouldn't be. It is what it is and that's pretty damn awesome. I understand why people love the life there.
Yes, I'll be back next year for the conference and the city. It's a place that grabs you and holds on until your heart opens to it. And, according to the song, you can leave your heart there. Thanks, Tony Bennett. I've had the devil's own time bringing mine back. And the writer in me likes that.