Category: writing

one million words

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A milestone passed. I hadn’t really thought about it until I saw the tally. Over a million words since January 1st, 2024. A little over two and a half years, averaging about a thousand words a day or so currently.

Not bad. Too bad my original estimate was three thousand words a day, which would put me closer to three million, but hey, life, am I right?

Not bad at all.

Target: 1600 words
Written: 819 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: The Grey Seas Under, Farley Mowat
Comics: Invincible 40-41, Noble Causes 29, Dynamo 5 3
Music: The Fragile (Left), Nine Inch Nails

too much anger

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Not just in the world, but in me.

I’m angry at the world’s situation.

I’m angry at myself, for wasting so much time.

I’m angry at myself, for not being a better man.

I’m angry at circumstances beyond my control.

I’m angry at being blamed for things I didn’t even do, and never would.

I’m angry at greed.

I’m angry at corruption.

I’m angry at myself for allowing depression to dictate the terms of my life.

I’m angry at other people, for constantly invading my time and space.

I’m angry, because I’m not nice enough, and because I cannot be less nice.

I’m angry at my own frustation.

I’m angry, again, at my inability to change any of this.

I’m angry at my inertia.

Target: 1600 words
Written: 1818 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: Definitely Dead, Charlaine Harris
Comics: Noble Causes 8-9, Invincible 21-22
Music: For Those About To Rock, AC/DC

phantom menace

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Every once in a while, when I’ve highly esteemed a thing, or dismissed it out of hand, or ranted against its mediocrity, I like to re-experience it, to see if I really got it right. Older, more mature viewing. Maybe it’s not the masterpiece I thought, or the disaster it seemed. Maybe I wasn’t mature enough or in the right headspace to understand.

I’m not talking about how my love of The A-Team or Dukes of Hazzard as a child has been thoroughly reevaluated as an adult to understand how shitty they were (outside of Catherine Bach, because wow. Masterpiece). That was obvious.

I hated Star Wars: The Phantom Menace when my roommate dragged me to the premier. I wasn’t the biggest Star Wars fan, though I like the original series, but I couldn’t help but think, fuck, people waited twenty-five years for fucking THIS?

I mean, the text scroll starts by talking about tax and trade disputes. Tell me you’re an out of touch rich guy without telling me you’re a rich guy, right? Then, comes the wooden acting, and all around poor script. I mean, you’ve got Evan McGregor and Liam Neeson, and the only halfway decent performance comes from teenage Natalie Portman. I don’t include the racist caricatures of the Gungans and Neimoidians or the original character redux performances of C3PO, Yoda, Jabba, etc., where it’s imitation and not performance. And while I hated everything to do with the kid, it’s not Jake Lloyd’s fault. Like I said, one halfway decent performance coaxed by a director, who should know better, out of some pretty heavyweight talent means the kid is not at fault. The script had so much exposition as to be almost on par an 80s TV movie. How could we excoriate a child for material Academy Award winners couldn’t make compelling?

Anyways, my point is that sometimes, I find things better than I thought they were, and sometimes worse. This time, the result was exactly the same.

What a piece of shit.

Anyway, my point is that in trying to explore kindness while I write Father Lightning, I’m finding the shadow of my prior focus on conflict and anger and myopia is like a phantom menace haunting the back halls of my mind.

I’m finding kindness quite difficult these days, and fucking Jar Jar Binks didn’t help.

Bad fucking hoodoo, man. Bad fucking art.

Target: 1600 words
Written: 2192 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: 100 Side Hustles: Unexpected Idea For Making Extra Money Without Quitting Your Day Job, Chris Guillebeau
Comics: WildC.A.T.S. v6 12
Music: Folk Rock Essentials, Various Artists (so good)

hard decisions

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You ever find something you love, that you’re really into, but the time sink is just too much with everything else you need/want/have to do?

I feel that way about baseball. I love the old game, the strategy, the drama, the fact that everything can change with one great pitch or one great swing or one great play (or one big fuck-up, to be fair).

But I can’t do it. It’s too much. It’s too much of a time sink. The stats, the game length, the fact that it’s three hours a day every day for almost half the year… would that I had nothing else in my life, but I do.

My love of ball is less than my love of reading. Or writing. Or love.

Such a shame is life.

Target: 1600 words
Written: 1938 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: Well Of Shiuan, C.J. Cherryh
Comics: Voodoo v2 8-9, Grifter v3 9-10
Music: Float, Flogging Molly (Float, the song, is my spirit animal)

eight-hundred-ninety-seven

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That’s how many days since I first sat down and said, “I’m going to try this writing thing,” and put together a haiku about birds falling as a metaphor for our blind spots and was promptly rejected by a magazine that prints exclusively haiku, because I hewed too close to the five-seven-five rule, even though I made it split-sentence run-on, for literary twist.

That’s how many days since I started thinking about monsters under the bed, which led to more short stories about misogyny, a comic about a woman’s revenge and her self-persecution, one about astronauts saving the world by killing innocent aliens, and a book about the Odd Couple, if the odd couple were virtue signaling hypocrites and MAGA monsters.

Eight-hundred-ninety seven days since I wrote down thirty-seven book ideas, a baker’s dozen comics, and vowed to write as many short stories and poems as I possibly could.

And still, I don’t have the guts to send them out to publish.

What is wrong with me?

Wait, don’t answer that. I already know.

I’m scared.

Rejection is the worst feeling. You’re the hero of your own story, tossed away like a background extra cut from the final scene in someone else’s.

My step-son did that once; he and a friend were extras on some dance movie. His friend was considered good-looking enough to make the background cut. My step-son danced for hours to never even get in the frame.

Target: 1600 words
Written: 1563 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: Well Of Shiuan, C.J. Cherryh (I'm in love all over again)
Comics: Voodoo v2 2-3, Grifter v3 3-4
Music: Fleetwood Mac Essentials, Fleetwood Mac

marathon

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It is ironic, that as I build my tolerance for more and more butt-in-seat time writing, that I see over three thousand words as a marathon.

I hope, someday, that I might triple that and still have time leftover for love.

Target: 1600 words
Written: 3296 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: Coppermine Journey, Farley Mowat (conflicted on this one, in so many ways)
Comics: DC/WS DreamWar 4-5, WildC.A.T.S. v5 1-2
Music: First Impressions Of Earth, The Strokes

sometimes, my notes make me laugh

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It’s like ongoing comedy at times, like when I pre-tank my book sales because of the florists’ boycott, or when I mistype said as saiad, and immediately decide that this is the new name for a depression nymph.

All this to avoid thinking about the slap in the face, the spit in the eye, the return to stupid games and lies by one of the most selfish individuals we have in our life.

Christ, I’m tired of insecure narcissists and their manipulative selfishness, with no regard as to who they hurt, or the lasting effect of their lies.

Target: 1600 words
Written: 2588 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: Dead As A Doornail, Charlaine Harris
Comics: WildCats 3.0 8-11
Music: Fight For Your Mind, Ben Harper (Another Lonely Day is my favourite walking around song)

big jump

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Father Lightning swelled from forty nine thousand to almost sixty-three, in just one draft. That’s a big jump. I don’t think either of my previous efforts had that kind of jump.

Kudos to me, for either overwriting or strongly expanding the narrative.

With a potential lot of fluff, and some good new ideas I had while editing, the third round seems like there’s maybe some potential.

Fuck, I hope this is good.

Target: 1600 words
Written: 2901 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: Dead As A Doornail, Charlaine Harris
Comics: WildCats v2 28, WildCats 3.0 1-3
Music: Fight Club Original Soundtrack, Various (best band ever, this Various. Such range.)