Category Archives: Writing

My fickle mind

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Ideas are fickle creatures, are they not? They flit in and out of your consciousness randomly, with no real reason, and it can drive a man to distraction. Earlier today, while taking a load of cardboard back to receiving to load into the baler, I was struck – and not for the first time – how inconsequential my job was. Regardless of what I have accomplished academically or in my career, I’m currently stuck in a menial job, trapped by circumstance and my inability to find something that interests me.

I’ve noticed how carelessly we, the workers, are treated, not just by rude customers, but also by a management team that cares more about their own pocketbooks than the lives of the workers they espouse to lead. And that’s not unique to where I work. It’s a universal theme, the lowly being taken advantage of by “The Man”.

That’s the story I want to tell, the story of my life. Well, actually the story of a middle-aged man facing a crisis of identity, revolving around his job, but also how that job affects his self-worth and trickles down to his relationships with family and friends. It’s highly personal, and it’s a story that I attempted to tell once, before I picked up writing seriously.

It’s also a story, therefore, that scares me. How can I make my experiences compelling? I guess I can make a zombie jump out of a desk, or maybe have a customer hold up the place, or maybe have the business blow up, but that’s not really what I’m going for. I’m striving for raw and emotional, personal in a way that I want people to relate to it as if they themselves are in the narrative. I want the character to become an avatar for the reader. I hope for the reader to experience the protagonist’s journey because they have been on that same journey before.

I believe we all want meaning in our lives, and I find that my work has no meaning. It’s a dull, repetitive task that drains me of time, energy, and sometimes the will to live. I know it’s not a sexy story, or even original, but it’s something I know, this life I have lived.

What do I know about knights and dragons? How can I write of teenage girls and of their trials in growing up? I know almost nothing about politics and religion. I know this life I’ve lived. That’s why so many of my characters have been cheated on and have had their hearts ripped out. That’s why so many of my characters are introspective and quiet,. That’s also why I give them voice, to say what I need to say, to validate my ideas, both brilliant and utterly stupid.

I want to tell the story of real life, my life, but with a few slight changes for dramatic effect. But then again, maybe I could try my hand at another teen-vampire-romance series. I hear they are all the rage. In mine, the vampires are the heroes while humans have shunned the light. Oh, and don’t forget the forbidden love between the human man and the female vampire. And maybe a big musical number, just for the hell of it, but definitely no bunnies. I have to draw the line somewhere.

And now the idea is gone. Crap….

…though hope I have forsaken

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I wrote this a few months ago, and posted it on a different blog. I thought I’d share it here, just for the hell of it.

There’s a girl – there’s always a girl – flitting in the periphery of my consciousness. Beautiful and transcendent, the desire of my lonely heart. I yearn for her, I ache for her, and see myself falling for her.

Falling…

falling…

falling….

But…

…all I see is pain in my future because of her.
A girl like her never falls for a guy like me.
I’m being assaulted by those around me.
“She wants you to ask her out,” they cry.
“Why haven’t you asked her out?”

But can they know the truth? That I cannot dare to hope? That kind of hope is seductive, but ultimately it kills the soul. I refuse to surrender myself to that masochism. Pain has stolen enough from me. Once more, and there won’t be anything left of me but a withered husk to be blown away by the wind, destined to be forgotten by all, especially she whom commands my desire.

And I cry in the late night vigil, weeping for a love that I’m unable to give, a love that exists solely in the state of what if.

Perhaps I’m nothing more than a coward and deserve nothing better than to become embittered by loneliness, ravaged by time until I’ve forgotten tenderness and emotion, only to die as I’ve always feared, utterly alone.

For what is love without risk?

Joy without pain?

Hope without disappointment?

But I’ve grown timid is my despair, unable to open myself to the possibility, unable to see anything other than failure, and beyond that, oblivion.

I wish to sleep, to forget my troubles in the comfort of my dreams, but I will not be comforted. Not in this. She haunts me and all I want is to rest. Rejecting her may be my greatest folly, but I see no other way.

You see…

I cannot be hurt again. One more would will be the end of me, and she hasn’t earned the right for me to risk annihilation. If this be a test, I know I’ve failed.

But yet I live, though hope I have forsaken.

Short stories and other works

Let the countdown begin

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There’s less than two weeks until NaNoWriMo 2014 kicks off. Am I ready? Um, sure. I guess. Sorry, I know I should be more pumped up, but there appears to be a slight wrinkle in my plan this year. Last week, my manager called me at home to ask if I would be willing to go overnight, beginning November 3rd, as part of the Inventory Prep Team. I agreed, not thinking how it would interfere with my writing. D’oh!

My writing is best in the evening, after I get off work and before I go to bed. The problem here is that my schedule is so erratic, I can never set aside a dedicated time to just sit down and pound on the keyboard. Makes writing so much more difficult. The silver-lining is that I will have a set schedule for six weeks, so if I can settle in, I will be able to dedicate an hour or two just to write everyday.

I haven’t given my story much thought, other than to decide what I’m going to write about. A story about a prostitute should be fun. It’s a family story, really, when you think about it. It’s the heartwarming story of a hooker with a heart of gold, just trying to make it in the city, with nothing but her hopes, her dreams, and her lady parts. It’ll make a wonderful Holiday film. I think Disney can bring it to life. Coming in December 2017, Giada and Her Wonderful, Magical Lady Parts. Kaching!

 All joking aside, I do have some ideas for her. She’s a minor character in my first NaNo novel, a bit of revenge on an ex-girlfriend of mine that I absolutely loathe. There’s a reason I wrote her into my book as a prostitute, and I reason for everything that happens to her. The irony is that I fell in love with Giada. She has a youthful joy for life that I find irresistible. She’s the one character I love the most, so naturally she has to have her own story told, from her point of view.

I’ll try to plot the major story points before November 1st, just to have an idea of the big picture, but for the rest I will discover as I write. It’s going to be a long and trying month, but I’m ready for it.

NaNo 2013 revisited and possibly finished

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I’ve taken my 2013 NaNo novel out of mothballs recently, deciding the time was pipe to revisit the unfinished work. After reaching the 50K word goal, I had nowhere to go with the story, no idea as to the next logical progression. I was in a rut, so I set it aside, convinced it would never see the light of day. Now I’m not so sure.

I had to delete nearly 10K words, and I see a ton of discrepancies from where I started writing and where the story ended up. I have a lot of work in store for me to make this a cohesive narrative, but here it is, in all it’s 62K word glory! Okay, you can’t see it yet, but believe me, it’s there.

What took me by surprise is the direction and change of tone it took, particularly in the past couple of days. What started off as a novel about a forty-two year old woman facing a divorce, morphed into a story about neglect, love and sex, abuse, including sexual abuse and rape, and even death. It isn’t simply about coping and moving on from a cheating spouse anymore. It evolved and became messier.

However, that’s what I like most about writing, the adventure. I have a general idea of what I want, but sometimes the way between two points can’t be a straight line. Sure it’s the quickest, but when in life do we take the quick way. Human nature is way too complicated for so simple a route. I may be the writer, but sometimes I feel as though I’m only along for the ride, just like everyone else.

It took me nine months for a solution to present itself. It took many nights for me to figure out my main character’s motivation for doing certain things, actions that ultimately imperils my main character and possibly her daughter. I tried my best to tie up all loose ends, but the husband isn’t one of those characters. He didn’t deserve that kind of send off, though he’s never the antagonist, just the catalyst that launches the story forward.

I plan to read and make as many corrections to the story before shelving it for a month or so. I’ll have to print it out and begin making wholesale revisions next, trying to get everything in line, but I need a little time and prospective first. I may pull out another unfinished word and play around with it next. I don’t know. I’ll play it by ear.

 

My Mistress: Procrastination

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Yet another Friday night, and once again I find myself sitting behind the LCD screen of a laptop. I have a few projects that I need to work on, a book I promised to publish over a year ago, and my NaNo 2013 that has yet to be completed.

So of course I’m not doing any of that. Oh no! I’m playing with video on the laptop, recording myself playing random songs. I sang one and played it back. No one will ever see that one. Lord, I can’t sing! I wanted to puncture my own eardrums! Seriously, I should never sing. Ever!

But my guitar playing isn’t all too bad. To be sure, I need to practice a hell of a lot more than I do, and playing electric guitar parts on an acoustic doesn’t sound the best, but it isn’t all that bad. I think I need to venture out and meet other guitar players. I definitely do.

But all I’m doing is procrastinating. I’m the worlds worse procrastinator. I’ve been meaning to start a support group but I haven’t gotten around to it yet. Maybe next week some time, or next year…

I have a few puzzles to work out as far a plot lines in my 2013 NaNo. I had a few Eureka! moments earlier today while I was at work. I think I should explore those threads. That’s what I should do. I’m glad we had this talk. We should do this more often. Next time bring some snacks. I’ll provide the drinks.

Just goofing around.