My last new years resolutions

While I don't talk about it much it's no secret that I spent a significant amount of my life in therapy.

I was in bad shape, too. More than one psychologist told me he'd be amazed if I were still alive in five years. That's because I was drinking pretty heavily and was deeply suicidal, to boot.

Part of my problem was self-loathing. Imagine living with someone you absolutely can't stand. You can just leave, right? But when that person is you, leaving is not an option. So, you're only options are:

• kill yourself
• change yourself

Obviously, since I'm still here, I chose the second option. I spent a lot of time considering my life and made some decisions and decided on some resolutions one New Year's Eve, several years ago. This wasn't easy--I didn't just arrive at some revelation, snap my fingers, and was suddenly okay. This was the hardest thing I've ever done. However, given the state I was in, I had no choice.

First of all, read this article. While I didn't write it, this is all stuff I realized myself during this time, and this is an excellent, helpful, if somewhat brutally honest, article that sums up what I figured out.

After coming to some of the realizations in the above article, I performed a little exercise. I made a list of five things that would completely and totally make me happy, make me feel like life is worth living, make me like myself, even a little bit. Then I re-read the list, and decided that the stuff I had little if any control over would be crossed off of it.

For example, my number one issue was I was crazy in love with this girl who didn't return my affections. I decided, during this exercise, that I had done everything I could do to get her to give me that shot--everything else was up to her and that was something I couldn't control. So, that got crossed off the list and I quit worrying about it.

I'm not saying that was easy. It was incredibly hard. But when I found myself thinking about her I'd divert my thinking towards something else. It took discipline, constant vigilance, and slowly got easier and easier until it was something I could deal with. It took a while, but I got there.

When I looked back at the list I saw that most of the stuff on it was stuff like that--I had zero control over it, yet it was running and ruining my life.

So, I decided to make myself into someone I could admire. This was something I could control. Completely. It was all up to me. Again, not an easy thing to do. Even more difficult than the above. But I did it. It took a long time and a lot of hard work, but I got there. Again, it took discipline, hard work, and constant vigilance, but I got there.

I'm still there. And every year, on New Year's Eve, I remind myself what those days were like. And I resolve just to keep doing what I've been doing.

And I don't forget. I'll never let myself forget. It's all that I need to do to keep myself moving forward.

Inevitable 2012 wrap-up randomocity

Okay, here are my thoughts about the year that is about to come to an end. C'mon, you knew this was coming!

• While I was not surprised to see Obama win re-election I still breathed a sigh of relief when the election was called for him by all the networks. A GOP win would have created a nightmare that would not end for decades. So, I slept easier that night. Now, to retake the House . . .
• I didn't record a single song all year. I've devoted most of my creative energy towards prose and screenplay writing. I have attempted a few musical projects but my heart just wasn't in it.
• I said goodbye to my dog, Atari. I inherited him from my best friend, who couldn't keep him anymore. It had been years since I'd had a pet of any kind, even longer since I'd had a dog (I'd always had cats before) and having him in my life changed everything. He was more than my dog--he was my best friend, my child, my constant and loving companion. I still don't know how I made it though the months following his death. Even now I still feel the pain. Atari--I miss you so much, my big silly mutt.
• I also said goodbye to Savannah, after almost 25 years, when the company I work for closed the office there, and opened a new one in Douglasville. I'd always said I'd never live around Atlanta and now, here I am, living around Atlanta. Never say what you'll never do . . .
• My beautiful, perfect, and talented goddaughter, Talyan, continues to add to her acting resume, after establishing a recurring character on the TV show Two and a Half Men (Ava), appearing in a Samsung commercial that got pretty heavy airtime, and now in a play, Land of the Astronauts, in LA. Nothing to do with me, actually, but I'm very proud of her.
• I've started to write and eventually shelved two novels this year. While that sounds like failure it's a learning experience, and I'll eventually resume working on them.
• I started reading fiction again, after sticking strictly to nonfiction for years.
• I wrote a screenplay I'm pretty happy with--Seer II--which is, of course, a sequel to another screenplay I wrote a while back that I'm also happy with, Seer. Seer II is not officially done--I'm waiting on some notes on it from a friend of mine, and there are a couple of things I may change during a rewrite, but the major work on it has been done.
• I turned 50 just a few days ago. Half a frelling century. Where did it go? And what did I do with it?
• While life isn't great, it's not bad, at the moment, anyway. I miss seeing my goddaughter (though Skype is a reasonable substitute to physical proximity, I guess), and I miss seeing her mom, who is my best friend, though I do expect they'll be making a trip in this direction at some point in the coming year. I'm still getting used to this new city, this bizarre mix of the metropolitan and the rural. I'm still learning, cultivating, considering, and banging away. I guess that's a Good Thing.

Don't worry, 2012, you haven't heard the last of me yet! Some unsolicited advice will be coming up in the official year-end wrap up post, out as soon as I finish thinking it over!

The age of no shame and randomocity

I know it's been said, but what is it with people these days? Why are there so many people out there who as so damned desperate for attention that they'll do anything--anything at all--to get their faces on TV?

There was a time when, if you did something really stupid or embarrassing, you did everything you could to hide it. If you were on TV you wanted it to be because you've done something exceptional--performed CPR on a nun, or won a Grammy, or at least got married or something. Now people are perfectly happy when the picture the news uses of them is a mug shot and they're on TV because they were caught having sex with turtles, or because they tried to hot wire a police car or tried to steal an angus bull by riding it like a horse.

I used to have a girlfriend who was an ER nurse, back during the days when Lorena Bobbit was in the news, and she told me once that a guy had come into the ER one night, incredibly drunk, and announced that he had tried to amputate his own penis and the media was to be alerted. (I told her that, since he obviously wasn't successful, the media wouldn't be interested. But I think I may have underestimated them.) Anyways, that was a while back, and it's gotten much worse since then.

Trust me--if you are watching the news and see a story about some idiot who had done something unbelievably stupid, soon you'll see a good half dozen others who tried to do the same frelling thing.

It's worse, though, when what they did is dangerous to other people who have nothing whatsoever to do with them. Like the guys who set their own houses on fire and call the fire department and then shoot at the firefighters when they get there.

Yes, after that dumbass in New York did that, another dumbass in Hoover, Alabama, did the same thing--though fortunately that moron didn't hurt anybody. He did get his face on the news, though, which I think was the point. Of course he's going to prison for attempted murder, but, dude, it was worth it!

Gods. Just when I thought we couldn't get any more pathetic. And by we I mean Americans. I can't iimagine this being something that goes on in other places in the world. Does it? I mean, stupid people are everywhere, but do so many of them want to get on the tube in other countries like they do here?

I've been developing this new idea a little more--one of my viewpoint characters is a very crooked public official. Seeing things from his point-of-view has been a bit of an eye-opener. I'm enjoying creating the character--let's hope I can make the actual heroes as interesting as this guy is going to be!

More details as they come together.

Should I or shouldn't I? Hmmm . . .

I've been thinking about my current project, The Harvester of Faces, a lot lately. Not so much where it should go but if I should keep working on it.

It's just not working. There's a piece missing and I don't know what it is.

Here's what I'm thinking: putting this on the back burner, to resume working on it at a later date. I still believe in the story--I think it's a good one, and one that people will want to read.

In the mean time I'm going to develop this new idea that just came to me while I was visiting family for the holiday. It's pretty much a straight horror story, in a way a sequel to my short story "Cabin Fever" (published in Warped Words 2010 by JournalStone, FYI.). I'm hoping it'll scare the pants off of anyone who reads it. Ain't nothing I like better than pantsless readers!

Anyways, right now I'm calling it Feeders and that's pretty much what it's about. I can't give any more details because . . . well, I don't have any, just yet. I will say it sort of came to me when I pulled off of I-75 on my way to visit dad--I urgently needed a bathroom break and wound up in this little town where the restroom at the gas station was not working . . . Yes, I did find a place where I could take a piss, and I also had this idea come to me.

About the only thing I can say about it at this point is that it's a monster story.

I'll share a few more details when they sort of firm up, but the more I think about it the more it speaks to me. I'll probably start plotting it out today, and hopefully I will be able to start the first draft before New Year's.

What do you think, gentle reader? Should I abandon--for now--the new project that isn't working and start on this new one? And, are you wearing any pants?

Happy Winter Solstice!

To the two or three of you who read this thing occassionally--thank you very much for indulging me and following my narcissistic ramblings, self-involved ruminations, and befuddling nonsense. I appreciate you all, and hope we are still together this time next year! Have a happy holiday season--and I don't care how you define it, just enjoy it!

The failure of words

Regarding the events of yesterday in Newtown, Connecticut--I've been trying to think of something to say here. I thought about not saying anything at all but somehow that seems . . . wrong.

I emailed my goddaughter's mom and told her to give Talyan a big hug for me--I emailed Talyan herself and let her know I loved her and always will. Circumstances and distances being what they are, that was all I could do. They both responded, which left me feeling a little better about that aspect of this situation, anyway.

And regarding my previous blog entry, the part concerning gun control--I stand by my conclusion that we really need to figure out why people feel compelled to do stuff like this, but if a complete and total ban on firearms were implemented right now I would surrender the one gun I have with me--a 12-gauge shotgun that doesn't even work--and the one or two other guns I own that are being kept for me by immediate family--to the appropriate authorities without a second thought. I don't think a complete and total ban is the answer but I'm as sick of this as I am of anything going on in the world and it needs to stop. Now. If that's the best solution, or at least the most workable one, then I'll be more than happy to go along with it.

This guy pretty much says what I'm attempting to say, much better than me. I urge you to read it. I was raised a lot like he was so I understand what he's talking about.

To anyone reading this touched by this tragedy, or other sort of gun-related tragedy--there's nothing anyone can say and I'm not even going to try. I wish those words existed.

To everyone else--the world is watching us. Again.

Gratuitous Sunday morning randomocity

I'm taking a couple of days off from work this week. Monday and Tuesday.

Originally, I took this time because I was expecting to have a bit of a problem getting a new tag for my truck, since I've moved to a new county. I was at least expecting to have to go down to the tax accessor's office and do something there. Turns out that's not the case. I was able to get it handled over the phone. I mailed them a check and got my new tag in the mail.

So, now I'm going to use those two days to work on The Harvester of Faces. My goal is to be at 25,000 words on this second draft by Tuesday. Right now I'm at 20,000 so it is doable. I may even surpass my goal. We'll see. That would put me at around one-third of the way through it, as I'm expecting it to finally weigh in at 75,000 words.

I'm also going to do my xmas shopping, probably tomorrow. I'm only going to get something for my best friend and her daughter--my goddaughter. So, it won't take long and I can take care of it all online.

I was watching Sunday Night Football in America when Bob Costas spoke out in favor of gun control, and I'm watching with fascination the reaction to it. It's crazy--the far right is saying the celebrities need to keep their political opinions to themselves. But they don't say anything about Kid Rock, Ted Nugent, Clint Eastwood, Meatloaf, or any number of other celebrities who spoke out politically that they agreed with. So, the only celebrities who should keep their mouths shut are the ones with opinions that would offend the far right, I guess.

My own opinion? For one, Bob Costas is perfectly within his rights to say what he said, and I found his opinion to be quite measured and reasonable and logical and worth consideration. Do I agree?

Yes and no. I grew up around guns, so they hold no special power over me. I don't find them particularly fascinating. I used to hunt, mostly dove, quail, with some deer hunting (killed a few doves and quail, never even saw a deer until I'd quit hunting altogether. Now they seem to be everywhere.) For a long time I was against any form of gun control.

Now, though, I think we do need to do something about it, though I don't know what. I feel that if we did make it harder to buy guns the people who would use them to commit crimes would still manage to get ahold of one.

There is a deeper issue, though, that is not being addressed at all that I can find, and it's something that will need to be addressed before anything else would work. That is: why? Why do people feel the need to kill other people when they get angry? Why is just arguing no longer enough? Why has the value of human life declined so much that a simple disagreement can result in someone being murdered?

But finding the answer to that, and addressing it in a meaningful way, would be really hard and probably expensive. Which means we may never have an answer.

Things I wish I could do better

Anybody who reads this blog has figured out that I suck at writing essays.

It's a definite skill, and I know if I took it a little more seriously I would get better at it, but to be honest for the most part I just don't care enough to practice. I'd rather write fiction. But it doesn't stop me from reading essays written by other people who are much better at it than me with a combination of admiration and jealousy.

I wish I were better at appreciating film.

I hear about a brilliant director--Kubrick springs to mind--and I'll watch one of his films and think, "Huh?" I know I'm missing something, because too many other people I admire and respect love Kubrick, but I'll watch one of his films and be left thinking that it was far too long for the miniscule amount of story it told. 2001: A Space Odyssey is a prime example. Again, I know it's entirely because I'm flat-out missing something everyone else can see.

I wish I were better at appreciating music.

There are bands everyone seems to love that I just don't get. Led Zeppelin, for example. I know, this borders on sacriledge, but I just don't understand the heaping admiration people pour onto these guys. Some of their music is okay--one or two songs are great--but most of it just sounds like something a bunch of stoned guys trying to make a record threw together. Again, there has to be something I'm missing, but I'll hear a song their fans just adore--like "Stairway to Heaven" or "Black Dog"--and I'm left wondering what the big deal is.

I wish I were better at forgiving.

I'll carry a grudge to my grave. If someone pisses me off I will never forget it. I may not act like I remember it, and I may never say anything about it, but, trust me, I haven't forgotten, and I won't. I wish I could. I've tried. But I just can't. It just makes sense on some levels--if someone betrays me once they are likely to do it again--but on the other hand it can make things awkward when I'm forced to deal with someone I don't trust entirely, or at all.

I wish I were better at accepting gifts and complements.

It always makes me uncomfortable to get a present, or to get praise from someone, or even an award, on the rare occassions something like that happens. I don't know why. My birthday is coming up and my co-workers are talking about getting me a cake even though I've said several times I don't want one. This isn't because of some stupid religious conviction or anything--it's just because stuff like that makes me extremely uncomfortable. Which, I suppose, is equally stupid, but it's mine, and that makes all the difference.

What about you? What do you wish you do better?

Post holiday randomocity

Well, I'm back from my little trip to visit my folks. It was uneventful, which is always a Good Thing.

I didn't take my computer with me so I didn't get any writing done for a few days--I did bring a couple of books with me and managed to finish reading both of them. Read one of them in one day. It's been a long time since I've done something like that. For the record they were both 87th Precinct novels, which I recommend to you once again.

And right now I'm finishing up my laundry, and then I'm going to relax a while before diving back into this world I've created with The Harvester of Faces.

Do me a favor and listen to this. Of my own tunes this is one of my favorites, and comes the closest to the type of music I like to listen to. If you dig it, too, feel free to download it and share it with anyone else who might like it. You'd be doing me a favor.

I've made a couple of astonishing discoveries about myself over the past few days:

• While I will watch--and enjoy--it on TV, I really don't give a rat's ass about college football. I don't know when this happened. I used to have pretty strong and often controversial opinions about it. Those days are gone.
• I don't care all that much about those big, blockbuster movies anymore. Those used to be the only ones I really wanted to see--now I find them tiresome. There are exceptions, of course--I'd like to see The Avengers, for example, because I dig Joss Whedon's style--but for the most part they just make me feel tired. I like more personal films now, which I also find a bit surprising. I shouldn't though, because the two screenplays I've written that I'm happiest with--Seer, and Seer II--are both small, personal films. So, maybe I shouldn't be surprised.

And it's almost time to put another load in the dryer. Until next time . . .

The Harvester of Faces progress report and randomocity

I've started the rewrite to this project today.

I know, I wasn't completely through with the first draft, but that's okay. I made some decisions about the story, and tweaked the plot and the circumstances, so I think it's time to take it to the next level.

This story is one I've wanted to tell  a long time, and it sort of scares me--not so much because it's a scary story (though it is) but I wonder if I can actually tell the story as well as it deserves to be told. It's a good story. Hell, it's a great story, and it has everything: some sex, some violence, a monstrous serial killer, and a political message that's near and dear to my heart. Not to mention some other stuff, about the formation of new societies and the birth of a culture, the formation of a collective subconcious and the beginning of a mythology. And some scary shit, on top of all that.

Whew! Let's hope I can pull it off. Writing the first draft sort of clarified some things for me with it, and there are some areas I neglected that I'm going to address with the rewrite. After that it'll probably require a couple more rewrites to sort of focus it where I want it focused.

Let's hope I can pull this off. If I can, it'll be a great book. If I fail, it'll be the other thing.

This is a short week for me, with the holiday--I'll be visiting my folks for a couple days. I'm not planning on doing any serious work on this thing during that time, though I will be thinking about it, probably constantly. Nothing inspires me more than returning to my hometown for a little while. When I get back I'm sure I'll be in a perfect frame of mind to knock out several chapters.

Keep your fingers crossed that I can maintain my focus on what is important in this thing.

Have a happy holiday!

Monday Monday randomocity

So, the election was last week, and I'm still quite astonished at some people's reaction to the outcome.

I've defriended a couple of people on Facebook simply because I got sick of the sheer vitriolic hatred from them that kept turning up in my news feed. Someone who hates like that--seething bitterness and rage--is someone I just don't want to be around or have any involvement with. People like that are poison.

Not to mention the folks who have defriended me. I know of a couple, anyways. Oh, well. I won't miss them.

I'm also quite astonished at the far right's astonishment at the results. Everyone else on the planet saw this coming except them. Why? Because they only believe what they want to believe. The pollsters they were using figured that out quickly and decided just to feed them highly skewed results to make them happy. The alternative was not to work at all, I suppose. Of course, the ones who did tell them the truth were either ignored or were told that they were biased. (Ironic, since they consider anything that doesn't go their way biased--no matter how true it is.)

That seems to be one of the biggest differences between lefties like me and righties. I'm not going to lie to myself to make myself feel better--I'd rather have the truth up front and raw so I can deal with it. They'd rather only hear what they want to hear, even if it isn't true--and if it isn't true, there is no power on earth that will convince them of that. I know this from bitter personal experience--for example, one (former) friend of mine simply refuses to accept any evidence that disproves something he believes in. I've long since quit having anything at all to do with him.

Ah. Arguing politics is pointless. Still, it's hard not to, these days.

Anyways, I've resumed work on The Harvester of Faces first draft. I had to back-track and rewrite the last few bits I'd done--it was not working. It's better now, I think. We'll see. I'm hoping to be done with it by around xmas. Maybe a bit before.

It's raining and chilly. Late fall weather.

That's all I've got on my mind tonight. What's up with you?

Mr. President - just a quick note

Congratulations, President Obama! Your victory last night changed my project, The Harvester of Faces, from a terrifying distopic vision of the future to an alternate world story. And I'm glad.

Yes, hope is stubborn, and I wake up this morning feeling it once again. Thank you, and good luck!

Saturday morning doing laundry randomocity

Progress report on The Harvester of Faces first draft--I estimate I'm just over half-way through. We're now out of the 'whodunit' phase and into the 'running-our-asses-off-to-get-away-from-a-psycho' phase. In other words, we  have now figured out who, now we need to figure out why before the sumbitch twists our heads off. Which he is fully capable of doing.

As the above title indicates I'm in the middle of doing laundry. Since I can now do it at home instead of having to go out I find it sort of relaxing, now. It's kinda of cool, too, in that I can sit here and write and get up to unload or load a machine periodically, usually right about the time I need to get up and move around a little bit anyway. So, it works out.

Also, I got one of these phones this week, and it was only partially because my goddaughter appears in the commercial you'll see at the link (she's the kid in the purple shirt). It's my first smartphone and it's so frakkin' nice to have an alternative way to access the Internet if (when) my connection here at home goes down. I'm still fiddling around with it--setup was a little tricky because I have zero experience with these things, but it's up and running now. I'm going to enjoy this thing, methinks.

I got my Obama/Biden bumper sticker on my truck--we'll see how much trouble it gets me into. Around here nobody will notice, probably. It's when I venture outside of this area that I'll start getting the nasty looks.

Don't forget to vote Tuesday if you're in the US and haven't taken advantage of early voting (which I did--see a previous post).

I didn't have even one trick or treater for Hallowe'en this year. Not that I was looking forward to it, but normally I'll have at least one kid knocking on my door. Not this time, though.

By the way, if you are old enough to drive and you aren't driving your younger brother or sister around, you have no business out trick-or-treating. At that age you should be at a Hallowe'en party. Or watching scary movies on TV or something.

Anyways, I hope everyone had a good Hallowe'en and your weekend is nice, quiet, and fun.

Updates, book shopping, and random randomocity

Here's what I got in my much-heralded (by me, at any rate) trip to the bookstore yesterday:

• Thud! by Terry Pratchett
• The Big Bad City (A novel of the 87th precinct) by Ed McBain
• Fiddlers (Another novel of the 87th precinct) by Ed McBain
• Beowulf, translation by Seamus Heaney

The more observant among you have probably noticed there are two 87th Precinct novels on my list. That's because I'm a sucker for those things. Ed McBain (a pseudonym for Evan Hunter, who also writes under his real name and, just to confuse things a little more, sometimes writes under his real name and his pseudonym--see Candyland, for example) is one helluva writer. If you like police procedurals (and I hate the way that sounds--it sounds like a really boring class or something) then you'll love these books. Just find one and read it. If you can find one where The Deaf Man appears, it's an added bonus. I'm just sayin'.

Speaking of novels, I'm probably over a third of the way through the first draft of The Harvester of Faces and so far things are fitting together nicely. It's a good sign. I've spent several hours concentrating on it this week--I worked on it for two hours straight yesterday and didn't even realize it until I got up to go to the bathroom and looked at the clock. That's another good sign. I don't have a specific date I'm shooting for to be done with it but I feel like I'll be done with the first draft around Thanxgiving. I'm hoping to be shipping it off for a publisher to take a look at by January.

Another project this week was making chilli with a secret recipe supplied by my cousin, Mia. I've made chilli a couple of times, with disappointing results. It wasn't awful or anything, it just wasn't anything special. Mia's recipe, though, produced some awesome chilli. I had it again for lunch yesterday and have the rest in the freezer for down the road.

Oh, and I got all my hair shaved off again, too. I tried to upload a pic I took yesterday but this computer and Blogger apparently aren't ready for that level of intimacy yet--I keep getting an error.

I just deleted a paragraph I wrote with a political diatribe. It really doesn't fit here--I really do think arguing politics is a waste of time. People aren't open to rational arguments in that area. Arguing religion is about as pointless, or maybe even moreso. I'll let The Harvester of Faces make my political statements for me--at its heart it's an extremely political novel, disguised as a science fiction/mystery. Hopefully if you disagree with my politics you'll still be able to read and enjoy it. Though I strongly suspect the people I really intend the political message for won't even notice it.

*sigh* . . .

On vacation randomocity and a brief political message

I'm taking this week off to get some serious work done on The Harvester of Faces.

I'm maybe a quarter of the way through the first draft and have come to the first major plot reveal and I have to say I'm about as exhausted and horrified as my characters are. They've basically figured out that the serial killer they've been looking for is a little more than they thought, and they've also discovered what he does with his trophies.

Anyway, that's only the first reveal. There will be more to come.

I need to re-read what I've done so far just to make sure it reads like I want it to--the pacing in this is particularly important. I'll start on that shortly.

I also had some other things to take care of, too--mainly, tomorrow, I'm going to take advantage of early voting to cast my ballot in the Presidential election.

I'm not here to start a debate or an argument--I hate debating and arguing and I'm no good at all at it. I will, though, say here that I'm voting to re-elect President Obama. It's the only choice that makes any sense at all. I can't understand anyone who wants to vote for the other guys who isn't a millionaire.

As I said, I'm not a debater. I usually just go straight to name-calling. Just so you know.

I'm also getting my biannual haircut after I vote--getting it all shaved off again. So, by this time tomorrow I'll be rejoining the ranks of the Hot Bald Guys. We're an exclusive club.

I'm also attempting to make chilli again tomorrow, using a secret family recipe given to me by my cousin. I've tried making chilli before and it usually turns out . . . okay. Nothing to get excited about. Hopefully this time it'll be really good. The recipe is certainly promising.

Oh, and one of the errands I ran today was to get a deep fryer, so it'll be easier for me to make fried chicken. Dammit. Tried it the other day in a regular frying pan and it turned out . .  . okay. If I had a deep fryer it would have been awesome. That'll be a project for later this week.

I found this lovely used book store, too, really close by, and I'm going to be spending a couple of hours there later this week--I'm reserving an entire day of my vacation just for that, so I won't be rushed. I stepped in there the other day out of curiosity--it's right next to the drug store I use--and was impressed with it. I didn't even look at the non-fiction section, either--I only had a few minutes. So, I go in there later this week with a lot more time and a few bucks to spend.

You know, this vacation thing ain't bad at all!

A note to an old love

I ran across an old, unrequited love the other day.

I haven't seen or spoken to her in years. We didn't have a big falling out or anything--I just gave up pursuing her. She never reached out to me since.

And I was suprised at how much it hurt to encounter her, but, after I had time to get used to it, I realized that I was just feeling the pain because I was expecting to feel pain. It was sort of like phantom limb sensation, I think. In reality I figured out a long time ago that we would make a very bad couple. Beyond the simple fact that I found myself profoundly physically attracted to her we had almost nothing in common.

This was when I started to figure out the difference between lust and love. Lust was what I felt for her--intense, burning, but simply physical attraction. Which at the time I mistook for love. Figuring this out--knowing how to tell the difference in myself--has helped me avoid so many painful situations in my life since that I am deeply grateful to this woman, as much turmoil as I went through during this period of my life.

So, I'm glad we never got together, in retrospect. It would have been fun, briefly, then it would have been hell.

So, my old love, I wish you health, and happiness, and if you decide you want to be friends again I am here for that. If not, I understand that, too, and feel no bitterness towards you, one way or another, and hope you feel none towards me. If you do, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Have a good life, old friend.

Are you ready for some randomcity?

Finally, my beautiful and perfect little goddaughter's first ever movie role is available on DVD. The Lifetime movie Five comes out on October 2 (tomorrow as of this writing). Be sure to get your order in now. She plays Jeanne Tripplehorn's daughter in the last segment, "Pearl." Alan Rusk plays her on-screen dad. It is quite lovely and touching and worth your time.

And Talyan will also reprise her role as Ava on this Thursday's Two and a Half Men episode, "Doggy Disaster." Don't miss it.

The first draft to my current project, The Harvester of Faces, is coming along pretty well. We'll see where it winds up--I'm still enthusiastic about it, and the ideas keep coming. I hope to be done with the first draft by just before Thanksgiving.

I'm telling this story in the first person--I've done that before (my story "Cabin Fever" was told in the first person POV) but in this case the narrator is female. Which is a little weird for me--I've never done this before.

But I love first person POV, for a number of reasons. Chief among them, the sublties you can work in--a character can reveal innate prejuidicies, biases, and blind spots that the reader will pick up on immediately but the narrator is totally oblivious to.

For an excellent example of what I'm talking about read any of P. G. Wodehouse's Jeeves and Wooster stories. Bertie Wooster--the narrator---comes across as an amiable nitwit (Isaac Asimov's wonderful term for him). You can tell that he's a really decent guy and, if you knew him personally, you'd be really fond of him, But he's also not particularly bright, easy to take advantage of, and, to his manservant Jeeves's everlasting horror, has an abysmal fashion sense. You will also howl with laughter. Wodehouse was a rare and wondrous writer--he was consistently and deeply funny. Or check out the BBC Series based on the stories. As an added bonus you'll get to see pre-House Hugh Laurie as Bertie, and his comedy partner, the wonderful Stephen Fry, as Jeeves.

Anyway, that's why I like first person POV. Check out Roger Zelazny's The Great Book of Amber for more examples and  a rip-roaring good read.

Hopefully you'll be able to recommend my current project as another example, one of these days.

Inspiration, thou art a heartless little hussy

So, with a great deal of reluctance, I have decided to put The Singers in the Eternal Night on haitus.

Why? A couple of reasons. One is, I'm not happy with what I have so far, overall, and it's not really something a rewrite of a first draft will fix. It's just not throwing off the right vibe--it's becoming something I don't care for all that much. I hate to waste all that work but it will require a rethink. My basic goal was for it to be terrifying, and it's so . . . not. I hate that.

The other is, my next project, The Harvester of Faces, has become terribly interesting to me. I sat down and plotted it out this morning and started the first draft this afternoon. This one is quite a bit more complicated than the previous one but it's not strictly a horror novel--though it does have horrific elements. This one is more science fiction.

There are a lot of things I want to say with this one, many of them political. I'm hoping it won't become preachy or anything--I'm hoping you'll just be entertained by the story and then, later on, realize that maybe it helped you to see a different point of view on some issues we're facing these days. Or, maybe not. First and foremost, you'll have to enjoy the story. If you don't then, no matter how forcefully and cleverly I have made my arguments, it's just a waste of time. If you wanted political commentary you would have bought a book full of it. You buy a novel to be entertained and I'm not going to let that go by the wayside for the sake of a message.

So, it'll be thrilling, with lots of twists and turns, interesting characters you can identify with, and--since this is me--a truly monsterous serial killer. Nothing but fun, for everyone!

Using problems to solve problems

So, I was worrying myself into a state, with a couple of plot issues I have with The Singers of the Eternal Night.

I was sort of obsessing on this until it hit me--I can use one problem to solve another one.

I can't really get into details, but it involves what happened to one character--he disappears early in the story and everyone seems to forget about him. I finally figured out that finding the guy will be the solution to the second problem I was having.

This is the secret to plot twists, I think, and something I need to keep reminding myself. Any time I see a plot hole, I need to look at other plot holes, and see if one can be used to solve another. It makes for a stronger and more economical story, one that will keep a reader guessing and also helps to keep the story from becoming formulaic--another example of what I'm talking about, I might add.

So, that's my new motto, when I'm working on a story or something--use one problem to solve another one.

The story, by the way, is coming along quite nicely. I'm just over a quarter of the way through the first draft now, and the road to where I'm going is gradually getting clearer. This is always a good sign, when I'm working on a novel--it at least means I'll finish the thing.

Funny thing is, I'm also getting some pretty damned good ideas about the next project, too--The Harvester of Faces. This one will be a lot different from what I'm working on now--it'll be quite a bit more complicated, with a multi-layered story, subplots, and a pretty complicated milleau. It'll have to wait but when I finally am able to get started on it I've got a very good foundation to build on.

Either way, progress is being made!

It was a dark and stormy randomocity . . .

Well, it's dark, anyway. I don't think it'll be stormy. But what do I know?

As I write this I've just begun chapter five of this novel thing, The Singers in the Eternal Night. I've also gotten news that my lovely and talented eight year old goddaughter, Talyan, has been booked to appear in a Samsung commercial. So, I can see her in her Samsung commercial on my Samsung TV. It doesn't get more awesome than that. At least I hope I get to see it--I never did see her Burger King commercial.

It's been a long week, and I desperately needed the good news above--up until today it had been one bloody thing after another. I can't go into details--it's work related--all I can say is, with 366 days this year, everyone picks the same frakkin' one to plan something.

I actually have an idea for a musical project. I'm thinking of doing some instrumental pieces for a song cycle I'm calling Broken Planet, for now. It's been a while since I've done anything musical--I haven't even fooled around with one of my guitars in days--so as soon as I get some more stuff blocked out let's see if I can remember how to do this.

College football and the NFL get started in earnest this weekend, which means I'll be struggling to get anything done. Especially when my Atlanta Falcons are playing. I'm looking forward to the season--I think the Birds will be a bit better, though I'm a little concerned about two things: the passing game and the defense. I know, they have Matt Ryan, Julio Jones, and Roddy White on offense, but for some reason it seems really difficult for them to complete a pass of more than four or five yards. Also, the starting defense is fine--but when those guys come out for a breather, the dropoff seems to be a bit precipitous.

Maybe I'm wrong. I hope I am. I do expect them to make the playoffs, in any case, and maybe even win a post-season game or two.

Okay, I'm done with football. Your eyes can unglaze now.

So, I've still got quite a way to go with the first draft of the novel--I probably will be getting close to done with it by around Halloween. Hopefully. Once I get done with the first draft it won't take long for me to knock into some sort of shape to send off to someone. As for a publisher, I have a specific one in mind that will at least look at it, which is about all one can ask, these days.

20 Things I Believe

1. Most of the problems in the world today are caused by people who just refuse to leave other people who aren't bothering them alone to live their own lives.
2. About all one can do many times is laugh.
3. There are three, four, five, or more sides to every story.
4. Arguing religion and/or politics is a waste of time.
5. Arguing with idiots is also a waste of time.
6. Arguing is a waste of time.
7. Before you say something harsh or angry to someone you love, think about tomrrow--those words will still be echoing. Is that really what you want?
8. If you are with someone you don't love, move on, no matter how difficult it is. You aren't doing anyone any favors by hanging in there.
9. Every time you say goodbye to someone it may be for the last time. Don't say goodbye angry.
10. Enjoy the good times. Savor them. Enjoy your friends. Don't spend all your time worrying about tomorrow.
11. To quote Buddha--You will not be punished for your anger. You will be punished by your anger.
12. Our imaginations seem to be getting more and more lazy.
13. Creative outlets are as essential as food and water.
14. Creative activities need to be nurtured in our children, even at the expense of math and science. Artists can figure the world out on their own.
15. I don't have many friends but the few I have I love totally and without illusion--I love them not in spite of their faults and failings, but because of them.
16. If you must worship a god of some kind, good for you. But don't confuse that with reality.
17. A writer, actor, comedian, artist, whatever, who is really and truly funny consistently should be considered a national treasure and be treated as one.
18. Farts, talking very loud, acting like an idiot, and making faces, are all things that are not, in and of themselves, funny.
19. If you are a drug addict or alcoholic, don't think people around you don't know. They do.
20. Be extremely picky with who you allow into your life, and treasure above all those who make the cut.

Pre-Isaac randomocity

Isaac, if you don't follow the weather, is a tropical storm in the Atlantic. The latest forecast has it still at tropical depression strength when it gets this far inland--we'll probably get some heavy rains, at least. Not that we don't need it. I just would like for it to fall when I don't have to drive in it. And without accompanying air-to-groiund lightening, high winds, or tornadoes.

Anyways, that's what I'm sort of bracing for right now.

On the creative front, I had an idea for a TV show this morning that I think is a really good one. It's sort of an unusual thing for me--it's a legal drama. I think the character at the heart of it would be interesting and there's a unique hook that will both draw in an audience and actually work to do good things in the real world. Of course, I can't divulge what I'm planning here, yet. Maybe one day.

I'm still working on the first draft of The Singers in the Eternal Night--my characters are starting to exhibit unplanned-for personality traits, which I know from experience is a good thing. Still got a long way to go on this thing.

I'm also still thinking about The Harvester of Faces. This is the next project in the queue--I want to wait to start on it because it will be a lot more complicated than my current project, which is basically a haunted house story in space. This one will have all sorts of social and political commentary worked into the plot--I'll be getting a lot of stuff off my chest with this one. Hopefully it won't come across as preachy--I hate that. One thing I can say about it: it's a dystopic story, but the dystopia isn't where you think it would be. It's nothing that hasn't already been done a few times but I'm hoping it'll be subtle enough to sneak up on most readers.

And I'm still re-reading and touching up Seer II--I think after I finish this pass I'll send it off to my friend who might be interested in starting actually getting it made. Of course she'll have some notes--she may actually hate it--but either way I'm looking forward to her feedback. She's incredibly busy these days but until I send it to her I'll keep obsessing over it, tweeking it, adjusting it, when I really should be working on other things.

Anyways, fingers crossed the weather doesn't get too terribly bad here, and if you're in the cone of uncertainty for Isaac keep your eyes on him over the next few days.

A maybe stormy Saturday night randomicity

It's been a bit of a roller coaster this week.

I can't really talk about work other than to say things are tough out there right now and everybody is trying to save as much money as they can. It could be worse. And so forth.

Things are pretty stressfull family-wise, too--I don't know everything that's going on there so I will refrain from commenting on it. It's just how things seem to go, I guess.

Offset that with the good news that my beautiful, talented, perfect little eight year old goddaughter, Talyan, will be reprising her role as Ava on Two and a Half Men. I figured they would have her back but it's nice to now know for sure. I'm very proud of her and I know she and her mom are very excited. Talyan is happiest when she's on set, I think. A little superstar in the making.

www.weather.com insists that this thunder I keep hearing is an hallucination--the map does not show any storms in this area and there probably won't be tonight. But it's awfully dark outside, and, as I said, I keep hearing this thunder . . . of course, I could just be losing my mind. It wouldn't take much at this point.

The redo of my first draft of this novel is coming along pretty well. I'm calling it The Singers in the Eternal Night, and it's science fiction/horror. Emphasis on the "horror." Still got a long way to go with it.

The problem I'm having is the next project on my to-do list, another science fiction/horror novel I'm calling The Harvester of Faces, is starting to clamor for my attention. That one is more like science fiction with horrific elements and it is by gawd gonna wait its turn! Dammit! I'll probably make some notes for it, plot some things out, that sort of thing, just to get my muse to calm down and focus on the issue at hand.

I'm still missing Atari terribly. I think every one of my neighbors has a dog and they all walk them when I'm out and about.

That's what's on my mind, this possibly stormy Saturday evening.

The third man - part four

Re-entry

Our boy has served two terms as President--all of the second and about half of the first one triumphant. He got a lot of his agenda accomplished, thanks to his own refusal to compromise his standards, and to more than a little bit of good luck. He's enormously popular, at home and abroad, and thanks to his endorsement his Veep gets elected next general election, overwhelmingly. That's a different story.

The real story begins now. Our boy--POTUS--is now our boy--private citizen. He still has a Secret Service detail but he doesn't truck around on Air Force 1 any more. Often, even though he gets a daily intelligence briefing, he has no idea what's going on in the trouble spots in the world. He has a staff and an office, but now he'll have hours--sometimes even a day or longer--where his every minute isn't already planned out and he can actually sleep until mid-morning.

It's an effort for him to not pick up the phone to call the current POTUS during a crisis--he really misses the feel of those reins in his hand and he remembers how annoyed he'd get when he'd get a call from a former POTUS with unsolicited advice. So, he watches the news with the remote in his hand, ready to change the channel when the story turns to something that would make him cringe and dive for the phone.

His wife has no trouble adjusting. She likes having her own house back--she was never comfortable with the army of servants and likes resuming her former role as a traditional house wife who cooks and shops for her family.

The boy digs being able to make breakfast for his wife again--it was a bit of a tradition with them but he had to stop during his terms in office. He misses being able to go shopping with her, or going to visit friends or just take a vacation without it becoming a major event. His popularity has not diminished--indeed, it has grown since he left office, and his predecessors can feel his shadow over them and it makes them really nervous. He gets asked--begged, even---not to take a stand on matters of policy, even if he is in agreement with what's being done, as it would cause problems with the current administration. He pretty much has to keep his mouth shut, smile for the cameras, and play nice.

It ain't easy. He can feel that people expect him to take a stand when something is happening, somewhere in the world, and he does get sent to hotspots to negotiate with troublesome world leaders--he's still respected, as everyone knows his word is good and the current administration would not dare to betray him by not following through on what he promises.

But after a while his popularity becomes troublesome, even among his friends who still hold office. He's the eight-hundred pound elephant in the room. Even his friends, even people who owe him their careers, wish he would just disappear sometimes.

Even he wishes he could do that, or at least go somewhere where people don't know him, where he can run down to the drug store at night to buy some asprin or a six pack of sodas without a motorcade and bodyguards. He'd love to go to a theater box office and buy a couple of tickets to a film and watch it with his wife like everyone else does.

So, does he eventually adjust? Of course he does. As he gets older so do the people who adore him so strongly--in his old age he's as popular as ever, but his supporters are older, wiser, more mellow, and consider him one of their gang. After several years he is able to go out, socialize, hang out with people--they still know who he is, and still love him, but they accept him as part of their own group without making a big deal about it. They love having him, and make him feel welcome, but consider him one of their own. Now he's able to go see a movie, or have dinner in a restaurant, or go shopping, and he'll be recognized and greeted by everyone, but he won't be mobbed--he's allowed to live his life surrounded by millions of people who consider him a personal friend.

He realizes, finally, that this is all he ever really wanted. If life is a mission, his was accomplished.

The third man - part three

So, our boy has stood his ground in spite of all sorts of pressure to give in, and turned out to be right. He's worked with his political enemies for the good of the country, narrowly averting an ecomomic disaster that his enemies nearly caused.

How do they reward him? By undermining him at every opportunity. What does he do? He tries to do his business running the country.

A few months after the fiscal crisis was averted most people have forgotten that he vetoed the law that caused all the problems--that Congress overrode his veto and nearly plunged the country into an economic abyss. Now, POTUS is just seen as mild-mannered guy who attends mall openings and speaks at charity banquets.

One night there is an earthquake, not in California where one would expect, but in Tennessee, which is on a fault line but not an area that one would expect something of this magnatude--and this one was a doozy. Billions of dollars of property damage. Thousands of casualties. It's a disaster.

A few hours after the earthquake certain aide workers are given satellite phones and told to place a call if they need anything big--earth moving equipment, for example, or three tons of bottled water. They are told that the President has appointed a special czar to oversee the Federal response to this disaster. These phones are a direct line to this czar, who has enormous power and should be able to cut through red tape and make things happen. When the first of these people uses this phone he is shocked to find out that this czar is POTUS himself.

And he is there--everytime one of these aide workers makes a call, POTUS himself answers. Not a secretary. Not an assistant. Not a cabinet member. POTUS. And he by gawd makes things happen. You need a bull dozier, you'll get it, within hours if not minutes. You need someone evacuated to a hospital for emergency surgery--a helicopter will be there and a surgical team will be standing by.

In one area a minor bureaucrat--a promising young Democrat, as it happens--deliberately withheld assistance to a Republican district, strictly to make the Republican look bad. POTUS called the Dem and informed her that, as far as politics was concerned, her career was over--she didn't run for re-election and never ran for office again. And the Republican district got its help.

POTUS nearly worked himself into a heart attack--his doctor was extremely concerned and he suffered from sheer exhaustion. However, many people were helped, supplies got to where they needed to go, and many lives were saved. It's pretty much a concensus that his help was critical in keeping a terrible situation from becoming an unnending nightmare.

People remember that. They remember his leadership during the economic crisis, how he said the law was wrong and stood his ground, in spite of the fact that his veto would be overridden. They remember how he worked with those who tried to destroy his credibility, tried to make him irrelevant politically--he welcomed them into the Oval Office and listened to them and compromised when he really didn't have to, considering how unpopular those people were at the time.

POTUS goes from being a mild-mannered moderate Democrat to being enormously popular. Near the end of his first term a Congressman does not dare to thwart him, lest he find his office buried in tons of mail from angry constituents and himself targeted for defeat next election. POTUS is in demand as a speaker, his campaign war chest is full before the election cycle even starts, and he's mobbed everywhere he goes. At his speeches the crowds go wild when he's introduced, and also every time he pauses for breath.

His reelection campaign left his opponent's career a smoldering ruin of shattered dreams and never-to-be realized hopes. He won in a landslide. Having thousands of people who feel like they owe him--personally--their lives, didn't hurt, especially since many of them were so vocal in their support. There's serious thought to amending the Constitution to allow him a third and fourth term--his wife, though, put her foot down at that.

Anyways, he did all this by standing his ground, trusting his instincts, being true to himself. By being nice--he became famous for respecting and being well-mannered and polite to everyone. He never attacked anyone other than that one person during the earthquake crisis, and that person was a member of his own party. And deserved it.

So, the last half of his first term, and his entire second term, were tremendously successful. He was loved, popular, powerful. And now, it's all over, and he's going to become a private citizen again.

Next--Re-entry.

The third man - part two

So, our boy finds himself, against all odds, in the Oval Office.

The economy is not in a recession but it's not growing, and there are signs that it's about to start declining. The Republicans in the House of Representatives propose a plan that they say will kick-start it--this is one of those things Republicans love, where tax breaks and subsidies are given to corporations and enormously wealthy individuals because they think these entities will spend it on growing their businesses, hiring new people, expanding, etc., etc. Instead of taking the extra money and investing it in yatchs, private jets, and in off-shore manufacturing and support, which is what they actually do with it.

Anyways, economists love this plan and say it's just what the economy needs. Support in Congress--where Republicans hold a large edge in the House and a slight edge in the Senate--is great. A major push is on to get this bill passed into law.

POTUS consults his staff, who tell him he would be insane to veto the bill. He should either pocket veto it, or sign it into law. A straight up veto would be a disaster--Congress has more than enough votes to override his veto and he's already seen as a weak, ineffectual President.

POTUS calls an old college buddy who is now an economics professor at a small college in the mid-West. His friend tells him that he thinks this bill is a bad idea--it'll benefit the economy for two quarters or so, then it'll begin to collapse. POTUS decides his friend is right and announces that he's going to veto the bill.

His staff has a collective stroke. They say it will be the end of his presidency and he's not even done with his first year yet. He'll become irrelevant in the political process. He'll be a laughing stock. He'll lose re-election, and Republicans will hold the White House for at least three terms afterwards.

Nevertheless, he vetoes the bill.

Congress gleefully overrides his veto and the bill becomes law.

For two quarters the economy is booming, expanding, the stock market climbing steadily, and Congressional Republicans are very busy pounding each other on the back, congratulating themselves, trying to decide who among them will be the next occupant of the Oval Office.

Then it all goes to hell. In three days the Dow falls below where it was when this bill became law, and keeps falling. The economy goes into reverse, quickly, and the word "recession" is being tossed around. Since Congressional Republicans were so vocal about this law, and pretty much anybody who knows anything about how the economy works says it's responsible for the problems we're now having, it's kind of difficult the GOP to deflect the blame.

POTUS, for his part, does not start trumpeting, "I told you so!" Instead he meets with Congressional delegations to discuss repealing this law, and what can be done to minimize the damage. Of course, now they are willing to listen.

After some desperate but measured and reasonable action, and some painful decisions are arrived at, things gradually start getting better. It was difficult, and painful, and involved a lot of sacrifice, but it appears the crisis has been averted.

In spite POTUS's leadership, his insistance on sticking to his principals, and the fact that he was right all along, Republicans are still working to undermine him. He's gained some credibility and some allies now so he needs to be undermined, they think, and efforts begin to make him seem to be ineffectual, weak, and lacking gravitas.

Then, disaster happens.

(To be continued. . .)

The third man

I was reluctant to post this here but since nobody but me reads this thing anyways I guess it's pretty private.

This is an idea, something I'll sit down and write one day. I'm just thinking out loud.

A man, a Democrat, decides to run for President.

He does this with no hope of actually winning, or even getting the nomination. He's the mayor of a fairly large city--say Provedence, Rhode Island, maybe--and wants eventually to get elected to Congress. He figures this is the best and quickest way of getting his name out there. He's guessing he'll lose a few primaries, bow out gracefully, and rake in the benefits the run gave him in name recognition.

But something odd happens. The Republican presumptive nominee is the Vice President--the current President is in his second term and is enormously popular, as is his Veep. His poll numbers are ridiculous and most of the heavyweight Dems have decided to forego this Presidential election. As a result, most of the Dems running are considered second tier guys, except our guy, who is considered third tier.

There are two Democratic front runners and they hate each other. It's not just political, it's personal. The attack ads begin quickly and it gets bloody. It gets so bad that most Democrats are sick of both of them and either vote for our guy in their primary or just stay home.

Our guy wins the nomination.

Now, he's not a bad guy. There are no scandals in his background, no mistresses or gay lovers, no shady dealings with corporations, nothing. He's politically moderate, and believes in compromise.

His problem is he's not all that charisamatic. People like him just fine but they can't picture him as POTUS.

Besides, it's academic anyway, as VPOTUS has it sewn up.

Two weeks before the general election, the Veep is way out in front. Our guy will be lucky to win his home state.

Meanwhile, in VPOTUS's home town, a cop who investigates cold cases notices that two twenty-something year old murders have enough in common that they were probably committed by the same person. He puts the evidence from those two murders together and it all adds up to one suspect--VPOTUS.

The cops decide they have to prosecute the case--this is murder, after all, not some under-the-table financial shenanigans--and the evidence is compelling. So, they contact VPOTUS's chief of staff--who is a former Attorney General and judge, and who storms into town a few hours later with the intention of telling these guys to shove it. They show him some of the evidence--there is plenty more that they didn't show him. The former AG goes back to his boss and tells him they need to be meeting with the DA and talking deal. If this case goes to trial their evidence will get admitted and they will get a conviction, and VPOTUS could possibly get the death penalty.

VPOTUS has to withdraw from the race, after agreeing to serve 25 years to life in prison for murder. And he considers himself lucky he's not on death row. Yes, he did it.

Our guy finds himself POTUS. Now what? Stay tuned, and I'll tell you.

Here is a novel idea

I'll admit it. I don't care anything about the Olympics. Watching the Olympics, to me, is about as exciting as watching water freeze.

I don't care for the opening ceremonies, either. I just don't like spectacle. I get bored.

When I mention this to people their reaction always seems to be, "So, you think we shouldn't have the Olympics? Or they shouldn't be shown on TV?"

To which I have to say, "No, I didn't say that. I said I don't care for them." Which means I don't watch them. There's plenty of other stuff on TV to watch. If you want to watch them, enjoy!

But that reaction baffles me. It seems, these days, that people automatically assume because they may not like something then it should be illegal. Because they wouldn't make a particular choice, then that choice should not be available to anyone.

I don't understand where this comes from. Time was people were allowed to make their own choices, and other people just minded their own business. Now, though, we want everyone to think and do and like all the same things.

So, let's try this for a while: if you don't like a particular TV show, or type of music, or movie, or whatever, then just don't watch/listen to/whatever it. If someone else digs it, be glad they have found something that they can get into, and leave them alone about it, and find something you can enjoy.

Maybe then you can extend that philosophy to other areas of your life, beyond entertainment. You'll be amazed when you tolerate a little diversity in the people you associate with how much richer your life will become.

Post-dentist randomcity

I don't know if dentists are more skilled these days or if there have been dramatic advances in the field but the last couple of times I've had dental work done--including today--I didn't have any pain or anything. I mean, I didn't feel anything, not even the tugging and pulling the dentist and his assistant did. It's starting to ache a little bit now, several hours later, but I don't think it's going to be all that bad.

This contasts to previous dental visits from years past where I could feel the drilling and all that, even if it didn't hurt.

I'm maybe halfway through the first chapter of this novel thing (still untitled). So far it's okay--it's going to require some extensive rewriting, I can tell. I'm just not going to worry about that at this point--right now the object is to get the story out there. I can chisel and shape and sand and whatever later.

Which reminds me, I'll be rewriting Seer II this weekend. Maybe by then it'll be long enough since I finished the first draft for me to have some perspective and know what needs to be changed.

It's funny, what a lot of nonwriters think when they find out I am a writer. Here's how they think the process works:

1. Write the novel
2. Send it out to publishers
3. Publishers knife fight each other to publish it.
4. Winner sends a check for several hundred thousand dollars.

In reality it's more like this:

1. Write the novel
2. Send it out to publishers
3. Publishers send it back, unread, with a form letter saying "Thanks but no thanks."

Another funny thing--say you have a friend or acquaintance who loves novels about serial killers. I mean, he or she has a wall full of them, and has read them all. This person finds out that you write novels about serial killers. From that point on this person will think it's the weirdest thing in the world that you do that, and that you are probably a serial killer yourself. Sure, other people write them, too, but those people are writers, not you.

I hope all that made sense. Remember, I went to the dentist today.

Messing around on my iPod I found an old reminder for a vet appointment for Atari. I could feel my heart breaking all over again. I don't know why--I look at pictures and videos of him all the time and feel the loss but it's not as devastating as this was. Sheesh, I'm such a basket case.

Reaching endings and mini-vacation randomocity

I have finished the first draft to Seer II.

Actually  I finished it twice but the first time the ending was bloody awful. I'm much happier with it now.

It's funny but I could re-read what I'd written the first time and I could just kinda feel where it went off the rails, right in the middle of a scene. I deleted everything after that point and rewrote it. As I said, much better now.

So, I need to let that sort of marinate a little while now. I'll probably start the rewrite after a couple of days.

In the mean time I'm going to start plotting out this novel project I'm tackling next. I've had some ideas for it--it's going to be scifi/horror and I think I have a pretty interesting and scary monster. Just have some details to work out. And, oddly enough, I need to re-read Shakespeare's The Tempest as part of the research I need to do for it.

I'm taking a couple of days off from work, mostly to work on this stuff, but to get a few other things done, too. Gotta get my truck emissions tested, for the first time ever. Had to get some groceries.

And I had to order another iPod. Dammit. Mine died last night--or, rather, the menu button did. It's pretty useless without that menu button and as far as I know there's no way to fix it. So, I'm getting a new one. Which will be just like the old one, really. Except on this one the menu button will work. Hopefully. I do have to say, though, that I certainly got my money's worth out of the old one. Other than the menu button thing it's worked like a champ since I got it.

Anyways, I'm feeling a bit sad, coming to the end of this stage of the writing of this little film project. Don't ask me why. Most writers would probably be happy to be at this point. Anyways, this was the hard part for me, really. Now that I have it all down it's just a matter of going through and polishing. There are some spots that need the application of an emery board--a couple places need a sandblaster--but overall I think it works and it'll result in a picture people will want to see.

And the storms I've been complaining about are still happening. Should have some more in a little while. Dammit. Again.

Well, that's all I have for now.

It's silly, I know . . ..

Sometime this weekend I'm going to kill off a major character in Seer II.

This is a character I've sort of lived with for a while now so it's actually kind of traumatic to me, really. Especially the way it happens.

Isn't it silly, that I feel sort of sad about this? This person doesn't actually exist anywhere except in my head.

Still, it has to be done. The entire point of the Seer series is death and it's aftermath, about grieving and moving on. Maybe I'm trying to tell myself something with this whole thing, my subconcious sending me a message. In any case, I think it makes for a good story, and one people will want to see.

Weather randomocity--according to www.weather.com there's a cold front that has stalled to the north of us, which is creating a steady stream of storms. We need the rain but the lighting--especially when it trips the breakers in my apartment--is getting a bit old. And at this point--according to the same source--there's nothing out there to get this frakkin' cold front moving again. So, storms every day for the foreseeable future.

Yeah, I'm talking about the weather. I've learned the hard way what happens when one ignores the weather. One tends to get blindsided by torrential rains and continuous lightning.

Which, really, would be a really good atmosphere for writing what I'm writing. Provided the power stays on.

Progress report - Seer II and other things

I'm about to close out Act II of Seer II (nope, still don't have a better title). So far I'm right on the schedule I made out for myself . I'm coming up on a scene that'll be pretty hard for me to write. Don't get me wrong, it'll be a great scene, but it's going to be kind of traumatic. A character makes a choice--it turns out to be the right choice, but it's pretty final. If that makes any sense. Anyways, I like this character, specifically because he is the kind of guy who would do something like this, but still . . . anyway, it's something I've been planning to do all along and it'll be great. If I can pull it off.

As far as the new song cycle I wrote about previously, A Distant Sun, I still may do a few tunes in that, but ideas have been coming to me about it and I may actually write it as a novel. I want to finish Seer II first, but once the first draft is done it won't take me all that long to polish it up and rewrite that into something sort of coherent. Leaving me free to get started on this next thing.

And I'm not really crazy about the title of A Distant Sun either--maybe I can come up with something a little better. It's going to be scifi/horror--or maybe, more properly, horror with science fictional elements--so maybe something will occur to me in the next little while. In the mean time I'm getting all sorts of ideas for the plot, characters, setting, all that, so my subconcious is apparently a bit obsessed with this idea. Hopefully it'll stay obsessed long enough for me to write the damned thing.

We'll see. I think, if I manage to get this thing written, that it'll be pretty good. Hopefully it'll be pretty scary. That's the goal, anyway--how long is it been since you've read something that you found truly scary? I mean fiction, not the news or anything. And I mean scary, not grossed out or horrified. People seem to have forgotten what that's like--most horror movies these days seem to go for the gross out or the startle, not for the growing sense of fear and identification with the characters that is necesary for something to be really scary. Not that I blame the folks who write these things--that's very hard to do. Next to humor, horror is one of the hardest things to write effectively.

Anyways, if you care, that's where I am right now with all this.

A distant sun

The time is a couple hundred years into the future.

Mankind has found a way to travel faster than light, but intersteller voyages can still take years, even decades, to complete. Still, we are reaching the stars, establishing colonies, finding resources to send back to the depleted earth.

We've colonized a dozen worlds. We've begun to explore a dozen more. Still, other than a few single-celled organisms, and even fewer multi-cellular organisms, we have encountered nothing else like ourselves. No sapients, no other civilizations, nothing.

There are those who find this unlikely. There has to be other life out there, complex life with the capability to form civilizations and explore worlds like us. Still for decades, there was nothing.

Then, one day, on an airless rock orbiting a distant star, ruins were found. An outpost, deserted hundreds of thousands of years, and nearly gone due to the ravages of time. Someone else was here. Someone not us.

As we expanded outwards we started finding more of these, though all had been deserted for thousands of years. Traces of traces. Nothing to indicate much about them, other than they were here and they built things and then they cleaned up after themselves and left.

Who were they? Where did they go?

Computers and scientists extrapolated from the sites of their known outposts, drawing a line to an area of our galaxy, one that we had yet to explore. A search of radio frequencies turned up nothing of a possible intelligent origin. Still, in our desperate loneliness to discover that Other, we sent a mission to that area, a highly advanced ship with the latest, most sensative sensors and scanners to look for them. The ship's crew consisted of the most exceptional men and women from the thousands of volunteers, on a voyage that could take over a century.

The ship's odds of finding anything, considering the unimaginable gulf they had to search? Not good.  Still, there was no harm in trying, it was thought.

What they find answers the question--what happened to the ancient ones? But it raises another question--will they survive long enough to let anyone know? For the ancient ones were fighting a terrible threat, one that eventually destroyed them. And it's still out there, waiting . . .

(Stay tuned for a track list.)

Really really hot randomocity

Temps hit triple digits here today and they probably will again over the next few days.

Yes, it's hot. I'm staying inside, watching a godawful movie on TV, staying cool. Writing Seer II. Playing Plants vs. Zombies--yes, it's a stupid game but I just can't stop.

To all you folks out there who want to make monster movies but don't have the budget to do a really effective monster--you can still do a good one but find creative ways to imply the monster instead of just showing it. Why? Because if your audience giggles when your monster appears on-screen, this is never a good thing. If you're trying to scare them, that is. Unfortunately, these days, the folks who make these movies seem to think that it is a requirement to show the monster, plainly and entirely, and since they can't afford to do it right it either looks like a guy in an ill-fitting suit and an expressionless, motionless mask, or CGI that looks like something from an old video game. It sort of spoils the whole thing, folks.

Watch Alien, people! Sheesh. One of the many reasons that film is a masterpiece.

Speaking of masterpieces--while this one doesn't exactly qualify, I do urger you to take just over and hour and a half to watch Island of Terror. I saw this movie when I was around nine years old--a local TV station would show monster movies in the early afternoons sometimes--and it scared me spitless. I watched it again today and found myself enjoying it all over again. It probably won't keep me awake all night this time but I did find it engrossing.

I've been talking about titles for the Seer film trilogy and here's what I'm thinking of calling them.

• Seer
• Seer II
• Seers

I'm sure that answers all those burning questions you've been having about this issue.

So, stay cool, wherever you are.

Scorching hot randomocity

Baby, it is hot outside. I mean hot. No doubt that summer has arrived.

I'll be spending my day working on the first draft of Seer II (and I still frakkin' hate that title, though it's better than the one I was using before)--I got to the end of Act I this morning.

I was sort of dreading that point, too--it contains an intense argument between the two central characters. It's silly, I know, but I like these two people and want them to get along. Unfortunately, if they got along this would be one boring frakkin' movie. Plus, the argument they had is nothing compared to what's in store for them in Acts II and III. Let's just say the next few days of their lives do not go well.

I also plan to nap, as much as I can. I haven't been sleeping very well over the past month or so for some reason. I'll sleep okay until around 3 a.m. and then wake up, and will be unable to go back to sleep again for hours. It is no fun at all, especially when it's been going on awhile.

An idea for a new tune came to me earlier today, too--I need to meditate on it for a time before deciding if it's worth developing into an actual song.

So, that's my life this weekend--writing and napping. As good as it gets. For me, anyways.

The process

A long time ago I co-wrote a series of novels that will never see the light of day. My collaborator drove me nuts during that time.

See, when I'm writing I don't spend a lot of time actually writing. I spend hours every day thinking about whatever I'm working on, imagining scenes, plotting out the plot, all that sort of thing. This is between calls at work, on my lunch break, at the grocery store, or sitting on the couch watching TV or playing a game. By the time I'm sitting here at my computer, fingers poised over the keyboard, I've already planned out my day's work. Actually physically writing it normally only takes an hour or so.

My collaborator thought that I had to actually be sitting at my computer banging away to actually be working. That's the way he did it--he thought that's the way it's supposed to be.

And I used to work that way, too, a long time ago--before I found out that after a five hour session of sitting, staring at the screen, typing, staring some more, typing, basically forcing the story out--that I would later go back and delete everything I wrote. Because it sucked. It read like I was struggling to find somethiung to say. Because I was.

Now I play with the project in my head throughout the day and it sort of flows when I sit down to work on it. It's amazing how easy it is, and it simply isn't necessary for me to spend all that time sitting here forcing myself to work.

I'd say I spend as much time as any other writer on writing--it's just that I spend more time with the pre-typing process, I guess.

Of course there are as many different approaches as there are writers--some work better sitting for hours at their computers writing and writing and writing. Others work more like I do, sort of daydreaming about their projects.

As Kipling said, "There are nine and ninety ways, for writing tribal lays, and every single one of them is right."

Post vacation randomocity

So, it's back to work tomorrow, after being off a week.

This is not a complaint--at least I have a job to go back to--but it's always a bit stressful, returning after being off for a while. Getting back up to speed with what's going on takes some time. My inbox is going to be interesting.

All-in-all my vacation was pretty productive. I saw Prometheus--twice--in 3D and lucked out with the theater audiences both times. First time there were about ten others in the theater with me and apparently they were there to actually watch the movie instead of party. Second time was even more ideal--I was the only one in the audience. If I can't watch a movie with my best friend and/or my goddaughter this is the ideal theater audience to me.

I made a very good start on Seer II--I'm almost all the way through the first act of the first draft. I read it over again last night and so far, so good, too. Some gut-wrenching scenes coming up in the second act--I may have to wait until next weekend to actually write those as I'll probably be exhausted after I finish that.

Also went by the music store I found a while back and replaced some gear that got lost in the move. I couldn't find a tuner like the one I was using but the one I got in its stead will work, I think.

Didn't work on any music during the week, which is one thing I was going to try to do. I'm not all that disappointed, though, because of my progress with the screenplay. I feel like I got quite a bit accomplished.

So, all things considered, a pretty good week off.

Oh, and Happy Father's Day, to all you dads out there!

A post-modern Prometheus

This is my review of the film Prometheus, which I just now got home from seeing. In case you were wondering.

First, my bona fides, for those who don't know. I'm not a fan of the film Alien. No, with me it goes way beyond that. I've been obsessed with it, since it came out in 1979. The following films in the series? Not so much. But I consider Alien to be the greatest film ever made.

So, needless to say, when I found out Ridley Scott was directing this sort-of prequel to his greatest film, I was excited about it. I've never followed a film so closely before, searching for articles and tidbits and spoilers online, pictures, trailers,, all that stuff.

To get this business out of the way, was I disappointed? Needless to say, my expectations were through the roof. Were they met?

Yes. They were.

But I'm a realist and I was not expecting another Alien. Scott has already made that film--there is no need for him to make it again, and that's not what he was doing here.

Alien was claustophobic, Prometheus is wide-open. Alien is intimate, Prometheus is epic. I could go on contrasting the two films but there is no need--while there are some things in common they are two different films.

Disappointments? Yes. My biggest disappointment was with the score--it was a bit too Star Trek in several places, though there were some musical shoutouts to the first film in a couple of places that I thought were very nice. All-in-all, though, I thought the score was too intrusive, inappropriate in spots, and a bit too pervasive. To give the composer the benefit of a doubt, though, he had a difficult task at hand because of my other issue with the film.

That is, it couldn't decide what kind of film it wanted to be--horror? Scifi? Allegory? Alien made that decision at a definite point--the famous chest-burster scene, where it suddenly became a haunted house story. While there are a couple of equivalent scenes in Prometheus it keeps drifting back and forth across that line, never wholly committing to one or the other.

That's not a major flaw here, though, more of a minor annoyance. In the end I didn't mind so much, and it didn't cost the film anything to my mind.

And the hommage to the original Greek myth that gives the film it's name was absolutely amazing and one of the hardest to watch scenes I've come across in a very long time.

Castwise--everyone was good to excellent. Fassbender's performance I'm sure you've heard is incredible. I loved Noomi Rapace, as well--and to all of you who were bitching about the decision to cast her, saying "She's no Sigourney Weaver"--you can all suck it. Of course she's no Sigourney. That's the whole point. She was perfect.

So, were any questions answered? Kind of. More questions were raised, and this is a good thing, provided the screenwriters and producers already have the answers to those questions. If they don't then the next film will make me feel like I'm being jerked around. If they do the next one will be as brilliant as this one.

Visually it was flawless. Like his stuff or hate it, Ridley Scott is a genius when it comes to shooting a film. You can see it here, in spades. Incredible. I have never seen anything like it.

Yes, there will be a sequel. Yes, I will see it. I can't wait.

I give it an A-. Only ding, really, was that disappointing film score.

The biggest hurdle

After a few false starts I think I've finally made a decent beginning on the script for the sequel to Seer.

Thiis is not unusual for me. Normally when I begin a new projects I have to delete and restart at least twice before I feel like I have something I can work with. Such was the case here. Now, though, it's starting to flow for me--I'm already seeing other scenes down the road, the story is unfolding, characters are defining themselves . . . this is why the process is so much fun.

The hardest part of a project for me is getting started. I've heard other artists talk about how intimidating a blank page one is and I can identify. But once those words start appearing it gets a little easier.

Another old adage that happens to be true--great stories aren't written, they are rewritten.

Here's what I liken the process to--this is a story I actually heard on Captain Kangaroo when I was a wee lad, and it is almost certainly not true, but it is illustrative. The story is, someone asked Michelangelo for the secret of his success as a sculptor. His reply was, "Say I want to make a sculpture of a lion. I find a piece of marble, and I carve away everything that doesn't look like a lion."

People look at me with an expression that you are now wearing--I guess I'm the only person in the world who gets that story's point. Let me see if I can explain it.

The first draft is the block of marble. Rewriting is the process of carving away the stuff that doesn't look like a lion--in other words, editing it so that the story contained within emerges unfettered and visible to those who chose to look for it. But before you can make the lion you must first have that block of marble.

Maybe that makes sense. I hope so.

So, I'm going to be banging away at this thing for the next few months,, then banging away at the rewrite, then sending it off to a friend of mine who will read it and then give me some notes on it, then rewriting again, and then rewriting and rewriting and rewriting . . .

I know, it sounds like sheer drudgery. In reality it is quite fulfilling. Once that ball gets rolling, that is.

So, if you want to be a writer, write. If you don't do that it'll never happen. Nobody will publish or film that blank page one.

Pre-vacation randomocity and a goodbye

First, the goodbye.

Ray Bradbury died this week. While Isaac Asimov began my transformation to a science fiction fan/writer, Bradbury completed the transformation. His anthology, S is for Space, changed my life, opened my eyes to a whole new way of looking at things. He made me see things I hadn't noticed before, think about things I hadn't considered, see things in a brand new light. He also sort of introduced me to Lovecraft by mentioning him in a story--I got curious and sought HP out after reading that and promptly discovered a brand new source of deliciously terrifying nightmares.

Good bye, Ray. And thank you. You changed the world, for the better.

I'm taking a vacation this week. I'm not really planning to go anywhere--got a routine doctor's appointment, and I'm going to catch a matinee of Prometheus on Tuesday (Yes, I'll post a review afterwards).

I'm also going to start re-reading my screenplay, Seer, in preparation to beginning a first draft of the sequel, which I'm calling Seer II until I can come up with a better title than the one I had but decided was just bloody awful.

I'm also planning to swing by this music store to get some gear to replace what apparently didn't make the move with me--my microphone, some cables, guitar tuner, stuff like that.

Anyways, that's my upcoming week--writing, movie watching, getting poked and probed, and probably sleeping as much as possible.

Back home again and grieving randomocity

So, I went to visit family this weekend.

When I lived in Savannah I'd go every third week. Now that I'm Douglasville I go a lot less frequently. It's a bit of a longer trip and I try to save the wear-and-tear on my old pickup truck--and my nerves. Though I have to say I timed it well so that traffic was negligible, so my nerves are relatively intact.

However, another issue I run into when visiting dad's is dealing with ghosts. Specifically Atari.

I have no memories of him here, in my new place, and I never go to the place where he and I lived together for eight years or so. But he went with me several times to visit dad.

And there his ghost still roams, around the fenced in back yard where he would wander around after we had arrived, sniffing out a place to do his business and also checking out the spoor left behind by the armadilloes, squirrels, turtles, and other creatures that wandered through there.

I can't look out dad's front door without seeing Atari lying there in his favorite place, where he could look out through the glass and survey the front yard.

I can't sleep in my old room without remembering him being unable to setttle down and go to sleep--he wanted to be home, in his usual place in the bedroom where he could get truly comfortable. So, when we would visit dad he'd spend most of the night tossing and turning, sniffing, hoping I'll wake up and take him outside for no reason other than he was bored.

Atari's ghost still haunts my dad's house and it's hard to go there to experience it.

I miss you, you big silly dog. I love you.

Everybody lies . . . everybody dies

Warning--this is about the series finale to House so it may contain spoilers.

I've always found House to be one of the more consistent quality shows on TV.

It wasn't perfect but it was better than so much of the other stuff that's on these days. The central character was interesting, the other characters were alive and complex, and the cast was amazing. The writing was even more amazing.  Complex, dense stories, multilayered, with subtexts and depth . . . and they never did something just for the sake of being cute. Unlike another show I used to like but which I predict won't last more than one more season *cough*Bones*cough* . . .

It iwas fitting that the final episode ever began in House's demented mind, with cameos from characters who have died during the show's run. It sort of underscores what the entire series has been about--House and his relationships and his self-destructive urges. The love he has for the people closest to him and his destructive way of showing it--in a way he abused those he cared for the most to torture himself.

But he always has an agenda, a plan, and this episode is no different. In that, it was perfect.--his scheme within a scheme to avoid being sent back to prison and thus being unable to spend that time with a dying Wilson. Vintage House.

Overall, what made it perfect for me was the underlying cause for House's problem in the episode--he had decided to accept Wilson's decision to stop his chemotherapy, out of love and respect for his best friend, and the sky almost literally falls in on him.

Throughout the show's run that's how it worked for House--every time he did something selfless or for reasons other than because he stood to benefit from it, something awful happened. Usually that something was the result of something House did himself--like here where he flushed those tickets that caused all the damage to the hospital's plumbing.

It was also a treat to see Andre Braugher reprise his role--the episodes with him and Hugh Laurie are perfect exanples of great writing and great acting. Two great actors performing intense, well-crafted scenes.

The retrospective was fun, too--I especially dug Bryan Singer's saying when he initially watched Hugh Laurie's audition tape he liked his look and the way he delivered his lines, and he finished it by saying, "And . . . he's American." That was too funny.

It wasn't perfect--Lisa Goldstein didn't put in an appearance but to me that was one thing that they sort of misfired on. Cuddy and House should never have gotten together. But Sela Ward returned as Stacy, Jennifer Morrisioin and Olivia Wilde also put in appearances, putting the hot babe quotient for this episode through the roof.

So, all-in-all, I dug it. What did you think?