This is the rough draft of two paragraphs I’m working on in my new book for Perigee (Penguin), on taking young people into the outdoors:

“Kids need help unloading useless gear.  I caught a high-school girl carrying a mini-cooler up to a snow shelter while winter camping one year.  We were two-miles in before I saw her and the mini-cooler in her right hand.  Inside that mini-cooler was a half-gallon of milk and a quart of yoghurt, both of which immediately froze into blocks and became inedible for the next three days.  If I’d seen the mini-cooler at the car, I would’ve helped that girl out by disallowing mini-coolers on a snow trip.  But I never considered the possibility of someone bringing a mini-cooler.  And it was too late.  She and her friend traded that awkward handful back and forth for the rest of our time out.

I’ve seen kids pack full-sized iron skillets, 18-packs of eggs that broke then froze, three pairs of shoes, eight-man tents to house two people, and enough clothes to last weeks.  Kids don’t know better.  They’ve been taught that more is always better and bigger is better and heavier is better because it’s sturdier which is better and thicker is more durable unless lighter and more expensive is better and then everything has to be lighter and more expensive and made of polycarbon fibers or gortex underlay or wicking micro-ceramics and everything sheds water perfectly because perfect is better and then the whole pack is filled with a lot a lot A LOT of expensive more everything which is obviously better than everyone else’s less expensive not so much of anything because everything is the greatest there is because everything is the most and the most is more than a lot and definitely more than some and more than not very much which is embarrassing really embarrassing to not have very much because we all deserve to have a lot of everything, right?”

Louder Than 11:  “Shit Climbers Say”

Harsh.  To the point.  Accurate.

High school kids – for the most part -don’t give reading a chance now.  But can you blame them?  Their parents don’t read. No one they know reads.  And reading isn’t nearly as entertaining as Facebook, movies on Netflix, misspelling words while texting…

Prolly.  K.  Whatevs.

And how can a writer of prose compete with a reality show?  Does a writer have Kim Kardashian’s body?  Does he date Reggie Bush?  Or mediocre NBA short-term husbands?

Try explaining to the average person why cliche phrases are unacceptable.  You might as well say that Mandarin should be the national language of Mexico or Spam is the greatest meat of all time.

What about the overuse of adverbs?  Like totally, literally, phenomenally, you’ll fail.

Reading isn’t cool.  Even good stories don’t compare to explosions, Myth Busters, and chefs who cuss every other word. You know what’s great?  Getting called a FUCKING LOSER because your fillet minon is 10-degrees too cold.  I love that show.  Like, it’s so good.

But books.  Paper books.  Real books.  Stories that take more than three minutes to read, more than five minutes, more than seven minutes…..

I asked my students to read a nine-page story the other night for homework and they couldn’t do it.  I said, “At an average reading speed, this will take you nine minutes.”

They stared at me, glazed as doughnuts.  And only half of them read half of the story.  I would figure out how many pages that is but it’s a math problem and I just got two texts in the last half minute.  And I’m important.

What did you say?

New page.

What is this about?

Damn, look at this pic.

Hella.

Google Images.

Is there a hyperlink I can click?  Oh wait.  Why’s my internet connection slow?

Fuck.

I didn’t get a very good warm-up, jumped on something hard, got flash-pumped, felt weak, started crying, wept, vomited, then felt a lot better.

The usual.

It was 37 degrees and bright sunny on the southwest facing darkish/grayish/blackish basalt and it felt like 60 degrees outside.  In January.

So even if I fell while toproping something I’ve led before, and even if Max blew two ball-nut placements on lead and he could’ve decked and totally died, and even if he didn’t get his send on the proj, and there were lots of people in a small space, and it was busy, and I got thirsty, and my food ran out, and I cried again, twice, sobbed until I retched, the day was like the lit blue of an MSR stove’s flame and just as bright, and I was happy.

And maybe I write fiction (or “tell fictions” as the Brittish call little lies), but actually, truly, legitimately, it was glory.  Pure glory.  It was perfect.

2. Stay in that chair (don’t get up for any reason)

3. Don’t check email while writing

4. Don’t look anything up online (ever)

5. Don’t use adverbs or adverbial phrases

6. Or cliches

7. Finish something (a chapter, a page, a story)

8. Don’t take myself too seriously (shit drafts are okay)

9. But seriously enough (bad revisions are not okay)

10. Read Margaret Atwood and Breece D’J Pancake (one of his twelve)

11. Because

According to everyone I’ve talked to, up until three years ago no rock climber had completed an El Cap Day at The Columns, Eugene’s local climbing crag.  An El Cap Day is 3000 vertical feet of rock climbing in a day.  As on the real El Cap, most of the climbing is at a moderate level (between 5.7 and 5.10+), with anything harder being replaced by moderate aid-climbing.  Many climbers talk about doing El Cap in a day, or an El Cap at their local crags, but very few people actually do it even if they’re capable, experienced climbers.  Climbing 3000 vertical feet in a day is an example of managed suffering, and most people don’t like to endure that sort of prolonged discomfort.  El Cap Days hurt your feet, your shoulders, and the skin on your hands.

So three years ago, three local climbers in succession did El Cap Days at The Columns, climbing more than 64 routes each in a single day.  And until this past summer, 66 routes-in-a-day was the crag’s record.

But then, this past August, Lee Baker (THE Underwear Model) climbed a Vertical Mile, 5,280 feet of climbing in one day.  Estimating a mile to be 110 laps at The Columns (where most rock climbs are just under 50 feet in height), Baker climbed 111 laps in a single, summer’s-day push.  All of his routes were between 5.7 and 5.10c, although most were in the 5.9 to 5.10a range.

This shattering of the previous record, by more than 50 climbs, was an incredible feat of endurance.  Baker started in the early morning, and finished in the hot sun, his only regret being that he didn’t bring enough food or water, and that he drank a large cup of coffee in the middle of his push.

Most pro-climbers have not completed an El Cap Day.  In the book Fall of the Phantom Lord, pro-climber Dan Osman talks about doing an El Cap Day at Lover’s Leap but then isn’t motivated enough to endure the suffering.  But Lee Baker, who isn’t a pro or even sponsored, took it to another level with his Vertical Mile.  He planned and executed a day of climbing that most climbers aren’t even capable of with refined, long-term training.

That time, my agent let me know.  This time it was “Eric” (see his comment below), and follow-up research.

So the guy who told me this week that Kirkus was going under for good now is probably wrong.  Kirkus is alive and well, and in fact not bankrupt or being sold once again (like it was in 2009).

And if Kirkus will not die, is there an Oprah comeback out there as well?

And now none of my books will ever be reviewed by Kirkus.  Kind of like there being little chance of me being on Oprah.  Oh wait…

And although I did sell a couple hundred copies at Borders this summer, I don’t think I’ll sell many more through that chain.

But someone new will come in.  And the Kindle Fire is the top selling item on Amazon this week which means more ebooks sold, right?  Or maybe not once again.  The Kindle Fire does movies, TV, apps, web browsing, games, magazines, email, and on and on.  It’s not really about books anymore.  Maybe the first Kindles were book readers, but not the latest and the greatest.  I know a mother who bought her six-year-old a Kindle so that he could watch movies on the go.

And what will be next?

I went climbing at The Columns the other day, the bright early-winter sun on the dark gray rock making it twenty degrees warmer than the shade.

I climbed moderates for hours, beautiful 5.8 to 5.10d cracks, the sun on the cold rock making everything sticky and perfect.  I felt strong, healthy, injury-free, well-fed and hydrated, and all below me down the hill were the final red and yellow leaves of the Western Maples.

I climbed until my hands were rough and my shoulders felt good and worn.  Then I pulled my rope and stuffed it, took off my climbing shoes, ate a little food, drank some water.

But when I picked up my gear bag, a thick yellow substance slung off of the bottom of my coat onto my arm, my hand, my pants, my climbing carabiners, and my keys.  It was everywhere.  Then I smelled it.  This stuff.

At the joint of the rock and the log, where people sit and watch their friends climb, where people put their lead-climbing gear, where kids eat snacks and wait for their parents to finish climbing, someone, someone had defecated, had pooped.  Someone had shat a foot-long, six-inch wide lake of brown-crusted, yellow diarrhea.

And now, that diarrhea was all over me.  It was everywhere.  Gravity and the swinging motion of me putting on my coat had dispersed this yellow liquid-solid all over me and my gear.

All I wanted was a shower.  Two showers.

All I wanted was soap.  Abrasive dish soap.

All I wanted was to run my clothes washer twice, maybe three times, maybe four.

All I wanted was bleach, harsh chemicals, toxic cleansing sprays, and I did not want to be this dirty ever, ever again.

An “everyday dirtbag” hasn’t made that level of commitment, but her or she can still live a nice dirt-style.

This week’s eleven everyday dirtbag notes:

1.  Total days climbing:  4 (all endurance, all moderates)

2.  Days of outside climbing:  1 (Total vertical feet climbed that day:  650)

3.  Showers this week: 2

4.  Un-dirtbag-like:  9 minutes on Twitter

5. Free clothes worn:  All free, all week

6.  Un-dirtbag-like: 11 minutes on Facebook (maintaining Fan page)

7. Best dirtbag food day:  Wednesday (3 free cookies, 2 free pieces of banana bread, a pile of soggy chips no one wanted to finish, and half of my co-worker Sarah’s burrito)

8.  Jerks I met climbing:  2 (one who chips routes whenever he feels like it and one who complains about the crowds every single time he goes outside)

9.  Times I was sand-bagged by my-only-friend-in-the-entire-world-Jeff-Hess:  1

10.  Ultimate un-dirtbag-like:  78 emails sent this week

11.  Days biking:  6 (all but Sunday)