At the end of September HarperCollins will close their Authonomy.com website due to the slow down in stories of interest. The peer reviewed sight acted as a slush pile for the large publisher. Members would upload their books and review others people’s work. Writers would help one another improve their writing. Editors at HarperCollins would read the top five books each month (Alison Flood story in the Guardian. http://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/aug/20/authonomy-writing-community-closed-by-harpercollins).

The only catch was some members did not consider improving their writing the goal, but getting into the top five. I scratch your back and you’ll scratch mine became the end goal rather than improving their writing. Fortunately, I missed all this fun. Unfortunately, I just joined Authonomy.com thinking, “Hey, I can get an honest appraisal of my work” only to find out I’m too late.

Here are some of my goals:

• Write a great book whose merits allow it to stand on its own.
• Be honest.
• Improve my writing.
• Help others improve their writing.
• Get published.

I want to write a book that people will honestly like because it’s good, not because we’re trying to get the inside straight on a publishing deal. And even if you maneuvered yourself to get an editor’s attention, they’ll still spot it as a bad book if it’s written poorly. Why not spend the time learning the craft. In the end it will pay you bigger dividends than the five minutes the editor will take to decide it’s not worth their time.

After a short bus ride up Michigan Avenue I got off at the John Hancock Center and walked over to 900 North Michigan Shops. My destination happened to be on the ground floor and on the right. It was the Mont Blanc store. The black and white details accented the watches and pens on display under glass. Everything sparkled; at Christmas time this is a must, or even when one is choosing the Triton 21 TrX bass boat. All I know is I don’t sparkle, or I thought I didn’t until Jai let me hold a Heritage Collection 1912 fountain pen.

My first impression was the heft of the pen in my hand. It felt perfect. It was evenly balanced and a joy to hold. It looks short because there is a retractable nib but with a quick twist I is ready to write. The movement of the nib over the paper was smooth and I did not feel I had to force it. But wait, there’s more. By pulling on the end of the pen and turning counter clockwise it lowers the plunger so one can refill the pen without exchanging cartridges.

Now I was a small mouth bass staring at a baited hook. I just wanted to take a Mont Blanc fountain pen on a test drive, not buy one. The sales associate didn’t have to sell the pen but let me use it on a pad of paper. It sold itself. Now the harsh reality hit like a bass mesmerized by a baited hook–I could think of nothing to write. I’m holding a great pen and my mind is blank. After what seemed an eternity, I scribbled:

“Some of the owner men were kind because they hated what they had to do, and some of them were angry because they hated to be cruel, and some of them were cold because they long ago found that one could not be an owner unless one were cold,” (John Steinbeck, Grapes of Wrath).

I managed to write the first line of Steinbeck’s quote because I listened to Stephen King’s audio book, On Writing, where he quotes Steinbeck I have it almost memorized, but now my mind’s mush. The ink looked great on the page, but my brain doesn’t work. I wasn’t having writer’s block–no, I was having Mont Blanc fountain pen block. Another quote kept popping into my head, and I knew this one by heart but I couldn’t write it in this context:

“Her facial prettiness was perhaps five years past its best moment,” (Dashiell Hammett, The Maltese Falcon).

All I will say is Hammett’s line fit within the context of the book he was writing, and he told the truth. It in no way fit my present context, and now I will keep my mouth shut. That is when I discovered that writing one’s favourite quote in the wrong context could get one into trouble or kicked out of an upscale fountain pen store. So I wrote my signature and doodled like any ordinary schmuck trying to look like they knew what they were doing.

And they saw the wardrobe was filled with fur coats. It looked like any other wardrobe, and they didn’t want to be found, so they climbed inside, all thirteen of them. Professor Dickieson shut the door, but not all the way because everybody knows it is not wise to shut oneself into a wardrobe. The others pushed and snapped at one another because university students are not children after all, and they didn’t want to be asked to leave just yet because it was such a nice hiding place despite how the fur coats made their noses tickle.

Footsteps drew closer and they tried to be quiet but nobody knows how difficult it is for university students to be quiet, especially when they are hiding in a small wardrobe. Some of them were real quiet because they don’t normally talk, and still others thought of silly things they did when they were in high school, while others giggled because that is what one does when playing hide and seek, and some of them pushed their way backward because they didn’t want to be found.

The wardrobe door opened and Ms. Schmidt motioned for them to get out. With crestfallen expressions they climbed out one by one until all twelve stood before the wardrobe. They were asked to leave because everyone knows you are not supposed to climb into wardrobes, especially if they happen to be in the Marion Wade Center in Wheaton, IL. And so they left, apologizing for being silly university students, and Professor Dickieson took them all out for pizza because everyone knows university students love pizza.

Ms. Schmidt checked the wardrobe one last time and nobody was left inside. She shook her head because university students were sometimes bigger kids than the young children who visited and tried on the fur coats hanging in the wardrobe. But as she closed the door she could have sworn she saw a lone person walking away into the woods toward a lamppost.

Just off Ontario Street and along Rush Street is Burke’s Bacon Bar. It is a hole in the wall lined with bacon and attracts the urban crowd seeking high flavour in manageable bites. Three selections are $11 dollars and are wrapped in petite paper wrappings that make White Castle sliders seem like the soles of your grandfather’s worn out shoes. Of course, if grease and small burgers are your thing then find a White Castle and help yourself. But if you want flavour, and you are strolling along the Magnificent Mile, and you are planning on getting prime steak that night, then these delicious bites are a solid choice for the meat lover.

The Bacon hamburger and the Beef-n-Cheddar were delicious. I actually split the Beef-n-Cheddar with my son, and including two drinks we were set up for around $15. Not bad if you don’t have time to sit and wait but want to keep moving.

And let’s be honest, who can go wrong with bacon.