Category: writing

late ideas

Posted on by admin

I hate when the big realizations of how a scene should be written show up in the late drafts.

It helps mold the story, but it’s very late to do the little tweaks, the small things that take a story from decent (but probably slapped together for a quick buck, like a bad boy romance or cozy detective novel), and turns it into something truly epic, like whatever it is the cool kids say is high literature these days.

(I’d say Dumas or Mowat or King, probably Palahniuk, David Grann, C.J. Cherryh, Elizabeth Bear, who is definitely the better Bear in the sci-fi space.)

Anyway, it takes what it takes to get it right.

Right?

Target: 1700 words
Written: 2182 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: An Astronaut's Guide To Life On Earth, Chris Hadfield (phenomenal)
Comics: The Walking Dead 37-40
Music: Heavy Petting Zoo, NOFX

not terrible, i guess

Posted on by admin

Things seemed to have calmed a bit.

Of course, that’s probably due to me getting a bit ahead of schedule, and not having as heavy a workload the last couple of days.

The bad news is, tomorrow, it’s bad to the grind.

Thousands, instead of hundreds of words.

Fun.

Target: 1700 words
Written: 508 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: An Astronaut's Guide To Life On Earth, Chris Hadfield
Comics: The Walking Dead 33-36
Music: Heaven On Earth, Belinda Carlisle (ooh baby do you what's that worth?  Not much, in my world)

why am i always apologizing?

Posted on by admin

I know I’m Canadian but it’s a bit ridiculous, even for us.

I was thinking about my grandmother today, my dad’s mom, and all I could think was that I wish I’d been a better grandson, that I’d spent more time with them, that I’d been just… better.

I do this all the time.

I feel like a failure – as a father and a son, a husband and a writer, a person, a political entity, a human being.

I’m sorry for that, and I don’t know how to move beyond it.

I feel responsible for everything, and powerless over all.

Target: 1700 words
Written: 2524 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: The Girl Who Played With Fire, Stieg Larsson (I understand the ending, but something about it seems unfinished, doesn't it?)
Comics: The Walking Dead 25-28
Music: Heaven :x: Hell, Sum 41 (better than you'd think, bit of a throwback)

your father’s life is worth $154.08 a month

Posted on by admin

There’s a part of me that wants to write a whole poem about this, but Jesus, it kind of writes itself, doesn’t it?

It’s like the six word poem, baby shoes for sale, never worn, which says so much.

A hundred and fifty-four dollars and eight cents a month.

That’s what you’re worth, orphan.

Target: 1700 words
Written: 3074 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: The Girl Who Played With Fire, Stieg Larsson
Comics: The Walking Dead 21-24 (I forgot how great this series was before the show got super repetitive and blew it.  Part of the reason I never finished it, and why I'm going back to do so now.)
Music: Heathen, David Bowie

massive rewrite

Posted on by admin

Holy mackarel, looking at this chapter, there are so many missed opportunities, so many fuckups.

Wow, amateur hour.

Total hack.

But I think I have the solution.

Stop writing, give up, never type again.

Wait.

Maybe not.

Target: 1700 words
Written: 1688 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: The Girl Who Played With Fire, Stieg Larsson (I'm impressed, but it does drag a little in the middle, I'm finding)
Comics: The Walking Dead 17-20
Music: Heated, Big Sugar

okay, i felt that in my gut

Posted on by admin

Do you ever have PTSD reactions, but you’ve never had the requisite trauma to go with the PTSD?

Like, a panic attack with no real reason to panic?

Apparently, I can trigger that by doing a good job writing a horrible scene (or editing it in this case).

I guess I gotta go focus on something else for a while, that’s not entrails.

Target: 1700 words
Written: 2010 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: The Girl Who Played With Fire, Stieg Larsson
Comics: The Walking Dead 9-12
Music: Nirvana, Heart-Shaped Box

we are blind

Posted on by admin

The very first poem I wrote in this era of actually trying, over two and a half years ago, was about how the things we don’t acknowledge are the things that take us down.

Governments ignore the masses to ply to billionaires, and the masses get taken in by a populist con man.

Billionaires ignore the long game in favour of short term returns, and when the cataclysm comes, they will be shocked. No one on the ground will; we’ve been tied to the tracks with a train bearing down on us for years.

One domino will fall, and the rest will follow.

Pay attention to the things you neglect the most; they will be the things that bring you down.

Target: 1700 words
Written: 1736 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: The Girl Who Played With Fire, Stieg Larsson
Comics: The Walking Dead 1-4
Music: Heart In A Cage, The Strokes

the fifth was a monday

Posted on by admin

And a day of reckoning. Do I give up?

Do I move on? Why is every day an existential crisis?

At least, every work day.

How do I move beyond it?

This is the point where the lesson of kindness I sought in Father Lightning should kick in.

Unfortunately, the lesson I’ve learned out of that has become something else. It’s a story about men and women, and how even the best of intentions can blind us if we don’t address the reality around us.

It’s one thing to say you support women and you’re an ally in the face of sexual aggression.

It’s a whole other thing to actually pay attention, and help where it’s needed.

And sometimes, boys, that means leaving it alone. This has nothing to do with the book; our hero should have done more sooner, but with trauma, sometimes, your support must be indirect.

If a women has been abused by a man, is a man who she wants to comfort her? There’s an inevitable mistrust there, in many cases, whether it’s warranted or not. It doesn’t matter.

Sometimes, you need someone who knows what you went through to offer the helping hand. You don’t want to hug someone who might just be your next abuser.

So, do what you can boys, jump in where needed. And if you see any of those boys from Cornell (or their enablers in the police or the administration, feel free to let ’em know what’s what. Fucking garbage people, every last one of ’em.)

Target: 1700 words
Written: 1698 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: Proof Of Conspiracy, Seth Abramson
Comics: Cloak And Dagger v5 3
Music: Healthy In Paranoid Times, Our Lady Peace

happy post-birthday, bro

Posted on by admin

Sorry, I was so caught up in poopin’ yesterday that I forgot completely – except for my post on Facebook, in which I likened your birth to a minor Biblical omen and Empire Records.

(Great movie, by the way. Not on Rex Manning Day! Also, I credit this movie with restoring my love of AC/DC, because If You Want Blood, You Got It is a spirit animal.)

Plus, whatever happened to Rory Cochrane? First, he absolutely nails Slater in Dazed And Confused, then is perfect as Lucas in Empire Records, then… what?

That level of commitment to depth and caricature deserves better.

Anyway, happy birthday, brother. I used to question your anti-social attitude (so much like my own), but you’re retired and not even fifty, so clearly, you knew something I didn’t.

I’ll be working (preferably writing), until I die. Hopefully, I won’t still be working shit jobs to that point.

Also, happy birthday Rory Cochrane, whenever that is, because you deserved better than you got. Here’s hoping for a comeback.

(Please don’t turn out to be a scumbag.)

Target: 1700 words
Written: 1702 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: Proof Of Conspiracy, Seth Abramson (damn, this is a dense read, but should be required reading in public schools when discussing Trump)
Comics: Cloak And Dagger: Negative Exposure 2-3, Cloak And Dagger v5 1-2 (great, new powers again - and a baby)
Music: The Head On The Door, The Cure