Tracy Morris
Given how long I've lived online, both personally and professionally, I should be great at this bio writing stuff. Still hate doing it. So I've grabbed snippets of my various profiles that are scattered far and wide over the ether. Feel free to see if you can find them with your favorite search engine. Sorta like a “Tracy Morris Scavenger Hunt”...
I am a writer. A hack. No, I haven't written a book. No, I'm not extremely well-read and, no, I don't like long conversations about literature.
I'm not a snob about much of anything (maybe, beer...) If anything, I'm an educated hick. Proud of it.
Here's a telling fact -- I had been getting paid to write for over two years when I finally decided that it would be okay to call myself a writer.
I've always rooted for the underdog, often to my own detriment. Finally broke away from a career as a rescuer and now do a solo entrepeneur gig from home.
I "have a temper" that I chalk up to my Scottish ancestry. It blends interestingly with my more tragic Swedish genes. Think 'an Ingmar Bergman version of Braveheart'... That said, I'm proud to say it's been more than 16 years since my last fight with a vacuum cleaner. [Editor's note: The vacuum paragraph should change, since "fighting with a vacuum" will mean to many readers that you were struggling with your cleaning appliance, not that you were brandishing said contraption.]
I do not shy away from controversy or conflict, but I don't go tracking them down either. [Editor's note: Yeah, right.]
I'm good at:
- saying I'm wrong
- looking square-on at uncomfortable topics
- relishing the tiniest things
- making do without many things that a lot of people think are necessary
- making edible food from whatever's in the pantry and fridge
Allan Gill
There are friends, and there are friends. There're the ones you meet at work and wind up heading
straight to Clubville with every other day for happy hour. Then there are those you run into on occasion and for some reason always end the encounter with, "We should get together!" knowing full well that won't happen. Then there are the people who call up and offer a hand before you even announce to the world that you need it.
That's Allan Gill.
Now, I don't want to make Al sound like a Boy Scout, but he could be one. Right now, even at his age. Helps that he doesn't look his age. It's damned unfair how nature sets things up that way, isn't it? But more on aging later...
To a woman with a handful of close friends, Allan's pretty special, having been strung along kept pace through my amusing trials and tribs for longer than almost anyone. Crazy.
When Mr. Gill isn't making musicians sound better, or tending to the homestead he shares with his brilliant wife in "The Live Music Capital of the World", he's creating alt-noir-folkadelic sounds of his own with bandmates the Vermeers. And a little-known secret to his bevy of band followers -- Allan is also an Editor Extraordinaire, having spent many a year in the trenches online, in addition to scouring friends' writing efforts with a meticulous yet voice-sensitive eye.
Like I described in an intro blogpost, timing's never been my and Allan's forte. Here's where appreciation for maturity (damn, I hate that word) kicks in: When he approached me with aplomb about apparent editing needs on a piece I'd published, the timing was perfect. Who could know?
Allan Gill has requested and earned the moniker Editor Too here at the Trailer Park. And that's what friends are for.
Jason Songhurst
At this point, I am compelled to introduce my first editor, who also happens to be my muse. I'm pretty sure that great writers somewhere have held entire workshops on this weird relationship, mostly advising against letting your muse get their hands on your creations.
We both figure this is doomed, one way or another. Or as he puts it so succinctly, "We'll either die or break up."
Yeah. Now you're seeing why HE's the editor.
Besides being great at slashing the bitter life out of my self-absorbed observations brevity, Jason Songhurst's editing is darn good technically superior to mine, which was blandly honed in a suburban Texas public school my own more passive attempts at the art.
Even though Jason's own karma appears to be unscathed in terms of Trailer Park-itis, his has been a life rich in relationship chaos varied experience. So inspiring the creative endeavors of his loved ones is second nature to him, even if that mostly means his calamities make great stories at family gatherings and he enjoys the stretch away from his rigorous life as a biologist. Besides he comes from the northwestern United States, our own sort of American Middle-earth. This geographical distinction, plus his several years on the earth's other side, aligns the stars squarely somehow prepared Jason for 'writing time with Tracy' (no meager feat.)
On occasion, I run roughshod with my rantings. Mr. Songhurst accomplishes far more at the Trailer Park than merely correcting typos. A peek behind the ether curtain here could be just the thing for your own beer-loaded viewing pleasure. Readers can rest assured that my editor stands by dutifully -- no matter the ambiance -- to lend aesthetic grace to what might otherwise be a big ugly mess.
