With the publication of my collection of stories, Of Stars and Space, this is part 10 in a series of posts about the inspiration behind each of the twelve stories.

Everyone likes to complain about weather forecasts. I’m a bit of an insider when it comes to weather. I’ve never worked in the business, but my undergrad degree was in meteorology, so I know more than the average person about atmospheric science. What makes the weather so hard to predict is how complex the atmosphere is and how many influences impact the daily weather in any given place.

So, I empathize with the meteorologists who struggle to produce accurate forecasts. In reality, though, some are much better than others.

The Weatherman was an idea inspired by my wife. Without giving too much away, the story is about a TV meteorologist who is terrible at his job, quits trying, and suddenly becomes good. Personally, I think this story is simply a fun read. Yet within, there is also a kernel about self-discovery and embracing one’s true identity.

Of Stars and Space (and other stories) is available at Amazon in both Kindle and print formats. Kindle is immediate delivery; print is print-on-demand and may take a few days before the order ships.

“The Weatherman” and Of Stars and Space, © 2020, Michael Bergman

Excerpt from “The Weatherman”

“I hate him,” I said, perhaps too loud.

“Mommy says not to hate.”

I thought my son was asleep. I sat on the couch in a t-shirt, boxers, and tube socks, like I had most of the day. Aaron was curled up beside me. He wore his Spider-Man pajamas but he, at least, had dressed to go out when Anna left for work and took him to daycare.

“I can watch him,” I had told her the day after I had been fired. She smirked and chuckled.

I rubbed Aaron’s back. “Mommy’s right. Daddy shouldn’t have said hate.” Except, I meant it. I loathed everything about John Manning, Channel 9’s evening weatherman. His perfect hair and its business part. His gleaming smile. His charming personality. His dimples. I hated it all.

Because he was me. I had been Channel 9’s evening weatherman until the prior week.

Ken Martin called me into his office. Carley Jackson flanked him on the right and Steph Whitehead on the left. “Tom, we’re sorry,” Ken said after a minute of small talk, “but we’re letting you go.”

“What? Why?”

“Well…”

“You’re terrible at your job,” Carley interjected.