Journal of Fear and Hope (2010)

Best Laid Schemes
December 17, 2010

I've mentioned more than once my plan to post something every week. But now a month and a half has gone by. I'm easily distracted. And there's all this great stuff to do and see beckoning me to come play. I'm writing this at a computer, and my fingers are itching to click over to the Internet and find something cool. And I've got lots of games and books and movies right here in this room. It's a wonder I've gotten any work done at all. But how can I remedy this? What can I do to increase my own productivity? Let's start by removing all expectations. Those are hard to live up to, especially when I'm the one doing the measuring. Stephen King made the suggestion that what a writer needs most is a room with a door he can close. So I'm moving my computer into the closet and shutting myself in.

I'm now surrounded by clothes and a chest full of old pots and pans various relatives have given me over the years as though I were their local Goodwill drop-off point. I wonder what new outfits I can come up with. And those pots and pans might make a cool drum kit. I bet I could record a Tom Waits song.

Damn it.

What it comes down to is, writing is work. And work is defined as "stuff we'd rather not do." Writing is enjoyable work. It's rewarding work. But it's work. So let's redefine. Okay, here we go. Writing is fun. Writing is better than video games. It offers more choices than all of the Internet. And sometimes, if you let the story go where it wants, it can surprise you.

I've written this book before. I went into this rewrite hoping to find a similar but different story than the one I cobbled out the first go-round. With this chapter I found it. It came right at the end. I discovered something new that I was apparently hiding from myself. Where we go from here is anybody's guess. And that is an amazing feeling. I'll have fun getting there. But I just don't know when that'll be.

Bloody Good
October 31, 2010

What better day for our hero to die, than on Halloween. Traditionally, I watch a movie on Halloween. This year I chose Natural Born Killers. Not a horror film, per se, but damn freaky and full of monsters. I've also recently finished a great book called On Monsters by Stephen T. Asma. I highly recommend it. It asks the question I've pondered many times myself. Why are we simultaneously disgusted by and attracted to monsters? Why do good people pay good money to watch films that revolt and frighten them? Is there a beast of pent-up rage stirring inside us? Does he get his rocks off on torture porn then lie back down in the darkness? What would happen if we never gave him any relief? Would he break his cage one day and take full control? If this is so, I'd rather we have a whole slew of Saws than become a people of barely-chained creatures sharpening our fangs on frustration. So have a bloody good Halloween, folks. Dress as demons and crank the Marilyn Manson. Pop in Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, or go to a haunted house. The life you save could be mine.

Forward
October 16, 2010

In this chapter, our hero learns what awaits him in the next twenty-fours hours. And I'm looking at what the next few chapters will hold. Yeah, I wrote this part already, but I can see some changes I need to make. I made a few already. For one, Pin now lives next door to our hero, where as before she lived across town. It's a move of convenience on my part. Now I have to figure out how much of the previous incarnation to keep, and how much to rip out like so much pumpkin innards. I don't think you'll get to meet Pusher this time. Or Grandma. I'll miss them both, though they may show in a sequel. But I'm getting way ahead of myself. We'll get to bond with Ringo soon. And I'm looking forward to hanging out with Rags again. But for now, there's dying to be done.

Home Again
September 25, 2010

The video store described in this chapter is based on a store here in Asheville called Broadway Video. Bob and I rented Fireworks there, but I don't hold that against the store. Broadway Video has since shut down, but another store bought out their inventory and is now filling the void left by Broadway's passing. Every town needs a spot where you can rent flicks Blockbuster would never cary. A place where you can find Foxy Brown on the same shelf as El Topo and Leprechaun 4: In Space. You'll only find one of those titles in my fictional store, but if you like monster movies, you may find yourself home.

Love Interest
September 11, 2010

I had fun rethinking the original book, the structure, the characters. Here, we meet a girl named Pin. Later, we'll learn why she chose that name for herself. For now, let's learn a little of our hero now that he's grown up and the bad times are, for the time being, in the past.

A Very Good Place to Start
September 3, 2010

This is an experiment. And a challenge to myself. A couple of years ago, I wrote a novel called Good Monsters. It had too many things going on for the plot to gel properly, and the ending was most unsatisfying. But I love the characters and the premise. So I'm trying again. I could have taken another two years to rewrite before shopping it around to agents again. But the thought of sharing it a chapter at a time as I write them is kind of thrilling. I don't know how fast these chapters will come. But as soon as I write and proof a new one, I'll post it here. Can I make it through without having to retroactively change some previous chapter? Will I finish the damn thing at all? The unknown is frightening. And delicious.

And It Only Took Me a Month and a Half
May 8, 2010

A Facebook friend started posting a haiku everyday. In a horrible attempt at flirting, I began to respond each day with one of my own. Turns out that haikus about dead birds aren't very sexy. You'd think I would have that figured out by now. Neither of us lasted an entire month before we stopped, but I set myself a goal of 31 haikus.

Riding Out the Day's Events
March 26, 2010

Last Saturday I made my first pilgrimage of the year to the River. I hopped from rock to rock when I could, crawled through weeds and over-hanging trees along the banks when the rock islands were too far between, traveling upstream as the sun thawed my sleeping bones. Alone on the water, my thoughts ran clear. I saw only my next step, heard only the rush and dribble of the water. I took over a hundred pictures, never stepping far before some new beauty captured my eyes. I sat on a boulder in the center of the current and wrote a poem. Two days later it snowed. It's been a long winter. I've enjoyed watching the seasons change for the first time in years, but it's been a long winter, and I'm ready for the ice to melt and the fire to burn again.

Something for Me
February 21, 2010

Once in a while I will write a love poem for no one in particular and send it spinning out into the universe, hoping someone will find it and take it as her own. This is one of those poems. But it's not really a love poem. It started out that way. Then it shifted as I wrote it. Yes, it's meant to draw someone to me, but it also serves as a reminder to myself of my good qualities. I sometimes forget I have those.

A Gift Given
January 26, 2010

I wrote this poem for a friend's sister. She told me at the open mic that I owed her a poem for her birthday. I take such requests very seriously, so I wrote her this. She said she liked it. I hope it means something to her. I'm more proud of this poem than anything else I've written in a long while. I started it at work, and it poured out of me in a rush. It took an hour to nail it down properly. I finished it at lunch, and when I first read it aloud to myself in its entirety, tears welled in my eyes.
I did two of my finest and most fun shows this past week. One of them on my birthday. On Friday, the audience roared. I was literally taken aback. It was a gift, a day late but greatly welcomed. Many things came to me on my birthday. I feel I'm still unwrapping.