On an Inconsequential Book Review #1

Who am I to start writing off the cuff book reviews? No one, right? You're correct. I'm just an every day reader, like most people. However, if I hear a book is good from someone I know, then I'll consider looking in to it, in an effort to branch out and not be stuck in the horror genre, or the morbidly fabulous death care non-fiction reads. See, I'm trying to expand my horizons. In the vein, my big plan here is to read a book, then write a review for you guys, and then you can decide whether or not it sounds like something you might to spend some time on. But seriously, I'm just trying to push literature on you people.

So, here we go. I collected a stack of books over the last month, because I read an article relating to Stephen King, (one of my literary heroes, if you weren't sure.) He listed several books that scared the hell out of him. I mulled this over for a moment, I mean, what book, or collection of books could scare this guy? I thought to myself, these books really must be something to get a "shout out" from such a great writer. I got to work looking through the titles and doing some minute research. I read the synopsis for each one, and honestly, they all sounded pretty damn good. I got to work collecting. I will make this disclaimer, this review and others will contain spoilers, so if you're actually thinking of reading any of these books, keep that in mind.

You by Caroline Kepnes was a good read. It went quick, it kept me engaged, I mean, I sort of knew how everything was going to pan out in the end, but wanted to muddle through just for shits and giggles.

The book centers on Joe, a book store clerk, who in my mind from the beginning is probably a slimy, toad-looking scum bag. Beck walks into his store, and he's immediately smitten. She's attractive, of course, a writer, she throws down some books to buy which just makes Joe swoon even further. Immediately, the stalking begins.

Now, the first five chapters or so are just laden with name dropping. It's all, Stephen King this, Stephen King that. Stephen King's new book, Dr. Sleep. I thought to myself, no wonder he recommends this book, look at all the free press, shit! It passed, eventually, but it almost got to the point where I wanted to give up reading, because it was a bit too much.

We follow Joe as he begins following Beck. He follows her from a bar into the subway, where this dumb bitch is wasted off her ass and tumbles into the railway. Of course, Joe is there to rescue her before she gets splattered all over the rails. Blah, blah, blah, he's a hero and so charming. They get into a cab together, and he "wants to make sure she gets home alright," boom, he knows where she lives. She conveniently leaves her cell phone in the cab, so he keeps it for himself and starts hacking her email and social media accounts.

He works his way into her life based on this encounter. Naturally she has a boyfriend, or rather, some dip shit druggie she thinks she's in love with. Long story short, this guy is getting in the way of Beck and Joe's future relationship. Joe abducts him while cleverly posting "tweets" from said dip shit's account about how he's going on a bender, then he miraculously disappears.

As we get further in to the book, Joe and Beck actually start a relationship, all the while Joe is hoarding items he's stolen from her apartment and he's obsessively checking her emails, phone calls, and social media accounts. Beck does the normal ebb and flow with the relationship. "Oh, I'm so in to Joe..." "I don't know if I really want to relationship with him." She's friends with a couple other cronies who she commiserates with about Joe, which sends him off the deep end. One friend in particular, "Peach" who is the most overbearing, controlling, self centered of the bunch wants Beck to get rid of Joe permanently. Again, this is someone getting in the way of their relationship, so Joe follows them to Nantucket where the cryptic emails and tweets start up again with Peach. She's running on the beach one morning where he's lurking behind a rock. He hauls ass behind her, tackles her to the ground like an all star quarter back and chokes her out. Her pockets are filled with rocks and she's promptly deposited into the ocean.

Oh, but there's one more antagonist ruining Joe and Beck's relationship. Dr. Nicky, Beck's shrink, about 20 years her senior, married, with kids. Naturally Joe sets up an appointment to see if this guy is a threat. After a couple of sessions, he decides Dr. Nicky is a cool cat. Eventually though, Beck pulls away and says she needs some time away from Joe. He breaks into her apartment and finds a new laptop and a secret email in which she converses with Dr. Nicky about their sordid affair. Joe is furious, here's one more ass hat that's got to go. He stalks Dr. Nicky around town and happens upon him with his wife. Well, he decides Dr. Nicky is miserable enough just being with his wife that death would be too good for him.

Instead, it's Beck's turn for abduction. He knocks her out and brings her to the basement of the bookstore where the owner and his boss has set up a cage for specialty books. Lo and behold, this is where Beck ends up. He gives her literary tests, and they end up reading The DaVinci Code together for whatever reason. She's really playing it off like everything will be alright and they'll go on with their relationship as it was before. Naturally, they end up rutting like rabbits and he feels confident that they're back on track so he leaves the cage and basement door unlocked, big surprise, this bitch tries to high tail it out of there. Big mistake. Now it's her turn to be choked out, thrown in a trunk, and buried in a remote area.    

Was I terrified by this book? No. I mean, I can see, having someone invade your space and your life that sufficiently is a frightening concept, but I didn't have trouble sleeping while reading this book, which is ultimately what I was looking for. To be honest the only book I've ever read that literally scared me and kept me from sleeping was The Amityville Horror. Now, that book, will haunt your dreams, and your waking hours too. All in all, like I said, it was a good read, entertaining, if only mildly predictable, but it did its job in keeping me reading until the end.

On Shit My Kid Says

I'm amazed at what comes out of G-Money's mouth sometimes. "Kids say the darnedest things," right? He's two, he's extremely inquisitive for a two year old. We carry on full conversations, the rate at which he's picking up on dialect is frightening and amazing. Here's a sample of some of the more outlandish and vulgar things that fly out of his mouth:

• Upon waking up the other day, he grabbed his stuffed cat, held it in my face and said, "Mom, my cat's dead, he's not alive, he's dead!." I believe he was relating this to the dead rabbit we saw on our walk the night before.
• While driving to grandma and papa's house, under my breath, I let a "son of a bitch" out. G didn't acknowledge it. Later on, he was convinced there was a bug stuck to his shoe, so he began scraping on the patio wall. The "bug" was not coming off his shoe, his response was, "Son of a bitch bug won't come off my shoe!" Noted, my kid has bionic ears.
• 99.9% of the time, he's awesome in public places. He gets dragged along to a lot of boring stuff, like shopping. However, he loves the lingerie section at clothes stores. His eyes light up, and he says, "Mom, look at all the boobies! I have to touch those boobies!" 
• In relation to bras and boobies, he often tells me I need to take my boobies off.
• He enjoys his bodily functions, and what boy doesn't? He alerts us all to farts, poop, burps, coughs, boogers, and so on. "I'm farting, I'm pooping, I've burped, it was a good burp." When coughing he makes sure to tell us he's sick. "Mom, I've got boogers, get the boogers out of my nose." 
• In bouts of frustration, he has the mouth of a sailor, much like his mother. He'll belt out, shit, dammit, the occasional "F" bomb, and the like. He uses these terms in context because he pays too much attention to me while I talk.
• If his cousin is around and has filled his diaper with #1, G will announce that "A is a piss-pot!" 
• The other day when grandma and papa were going home, he announced he wanted to go with them. I explained that they didn't have a car sear in their car. He came back with, "Well, papa can hold me in the car." The boy is using deductive reasoning. It won't be long  before he outsmarts me now.
• "Dad, you're harshing my mellow."
• "Shut your lips, Boogie!"

Of course, I realize a two year old shouldn't be dropping the curse words like a seasoned adult. It's not like we don't correct him when he lets one fly. We don't say, "Shit, baby, way to use the F bomb." Instead we say, "Hey man, those are grown up words, not for babies." And he's like, whatever, and goes on to something else.

He's at a great age where he can communicate what he wants and what he doesn't want. "Yes, I'd like the fruity Cheerios." "No, I don't want granola." "I'd like to pee on the potty." You get my point. He'll read along in his books and randomly recite part of the book to me while we're playing outside or doing chores.

I enjoy the normal, every day conversation with him, but I also love the oddities that come out of his mouth, even the curse words, because everyone needs a laugh now and then. Don't worry, I secretly laugh as to not encourage the cursing, jeez.

What sort of off the wall things have you heard your kids or kids you know say?

On Fall Happenings

This post was meant for a couple weeks ago, more specifically, the end of August and very beginning of September when all the retail asshats started rolling out all the "Autumn" items. I'm talking about your pumpkin spice everything, Halloween decor, Thanksgiving decor, I'm sure in a week or two, I'll start seeing Santa's fat ass slinking around.

Okay, I'll admit, I love Fall or Autumn, or "oh shit, it's going to be Winter in like two months" as much as the next person. You'd have to be dead inside to not appreciate the fire in the trees, the smell of sweet decay as those fiery leaves fall on the ground and you have to get outside and risk a heart attack in an attempt the rake them up and wrestle them into a lawn bag. I love haunted houses, hay rides, scary books and movies. Fall is my go-to season after Summer, I also enjoy the pumpkin flavored items. I will indulge in pumpkin spice something, a piece of pumpkin, a pumpkin roll, whatever. My point is, I'll enjoy these things in due time,

Technically, according to the natural cycle, it's already Autumn. Meteorological Fall started September 1st and lasts through November 30th. That's here in the Northern Hemisphere anyway. Interesting right? Yes, the calendar says Fall starts on the 23rd, but you've already noticed the days getting shorter, the nights and mornings cooling. So sure, according to this logic, I could have happily enjoyed a Pumpkin Spice Frap on September 1st while it was 90 degrees outside. But really, is your heart going to be in taste of Fall while you're sweating your ass off, thinking about how you were at the beach just the other day? Well, maybe. Maybe you can trick yourself into feeling Fall while Summer still has you in its clutches, but I for one cannot.

I understand, the retail zombies have to do their thing, they've got to get their product out there, set up their displays according to what their corporate puppet masters tell them to do, hey, I used to be there. I'm going to defy "the man" though, I will not indulge in anything "Fall" until the calendar officially declares Summer 2015 null and void. This also includes dressing for the season. I am still dressing summery as the weather allows. I mean, if it's going to be like 60 degrees one day, I'm not going to walk around half naked, I'm stubborn, not a dummy. Give me 70 degrees and up though, I'm still wearing skirts to work, short sleeves, light sweaters. The key is, don't give up on Summer prematurely, because it never lasts long enough, especially here, where it could be 95 one day, and 55 the next.

So now it's Q & A time. What are your thoughts? Are you on the Fall bandwagon as soon as the calendar hits September? Or are you anxiously clutching to the last bits of summer and long, warm nights for as long as you possibly can?

On Vacationing With a Two-Year Old

Have you ever been on a week long vacation with a two year old? Let's just say, mama needed some high grade liquor when the boy conked out. Oh, I kid, I kid. Y'all are going to call me a bitch and hate my guts, but G-Money was pretty exquisite on his first week long vacay. I think it had something to do with Grandma and Papa being there too. I mean, the worst part was on the way up, he got weepy in the car and his tiny little ass wanted out of that damn, dirty car seat. On a side note, I'm convinced car seats are just tiny torture devices for kids. Granted, they're supposed to save them from an untimely death in the event of a crash, but this kids are buckled in seventeen different ways, their heads are surrounded with padding, and they can't even readjust in their seat because they are basically tied down. No wonder he wants out. I'd cry too if I had to spend any amount of time in a seat like that.

The lake and the beach agree with this boy. He spent his time at the lake shore, playing in the sand, sitting in the waves, pushing a paddle board around. He did a little fishing with Grandma, Papa, and Dad. J caught a bass, G touched it and said "Ewww!", watched Dad release said bass and said "Bye Bye Fishie!" He took his first ride on a paddleboat, which he thoroughly enjoyed, though he didn't particularly care for wearing a life vest. The only time I was stressed and having a coronary was when he decided it was appropriate to run on the rickety ass docks with his wagon while not looking where he was going. Which, would have been somewhat okay if the water wasn't pitch black because it immediately dropped off the 40 feet. There were no meltdowns, the boy was just in a great mood for a week straight.

The end of the week approached and while we had one more day at our cabin, we noticed some undesirables moving in. It looked like  Harley Fest meets Deliverance. We decided it might be in our best interest to maybe go home one day early. Mom and Pops took baby G and headed for the hills. J and I went a little further north to spend the night with our homies. One is never too old for a little 'round the campfire debauchery. There's fold up chairs and a pizza slice suit that will never be the same.

Now that the vacation has come and gone, there isn't another one in sight (for myself) until next summer, more than likely. I thought spending a week straight with a toddler in an unknown place might get to be a little "cray cray," but I underestimate the boy. I got to see that he really is the chill person I suspected him to be. He truly is a nature enthusiast. He loves being outside, being at the beach, playing sports. It's just a shame we have nine months of winter here in the Mitten. Maybe it won't be so frigid this year and the boy can be introduced to snow sports.

On Summertime and the Big City

Holy shit, it's officially summer! That little bitch, "Mother Nature" has been teasing us with warm, beautiful days here and there since last month, and here we are, officially in summer, and we've yet to receive consecutive "summer weather." It's all part of living in the Mitten, right? I mean, we're shaped like winter apparel, why are we surprised by the erratic weather patterns up in here?

With that being said, allegedly we're supposed to get our asses kicked with some severe storms and possibly tornadoes later today and overnight. Doesn't that sound nice? Who doesn't want to deal with tornadic weather in the middle of the night? I'll be sweeping my family into our flooding basement in the dark at 3:00am and using myself as a human shield while twisters sweep my money pit of a house away. Aside from being homeless for a while, getting a new house out of the deal might not be a bad shake.

All kidding aside, I don't wish to be involved in a tornado, nor do I wish for my toddler to have to experience that, not to mention, Leopold and Jameson would be shitting their fur to be involved in such an event. There, there's my disclaimer.

In other news, J and I went to Chicago last weekend for a family wedding. G had his first overnight weekend at Grandma and Papa's, in which he did amazing. Mama bear over here was all nervous for nothing, but, I guess that's what we do.

I'd never been to Chicago. J had been years ago. We've been to NYC and DC on past trips, and I must say, Chicago is the tamest in regards to traffic and crowds. Don't get me wrong, it was still hectic as hell, and there were people everywhere, but somehow, it seemed calmer, I don't know why. We got a little sightseeing in, you know, the standard Navy Pier visit and Millennium Park. Of course we wanted to get to Willis Tower, but my ass is so scared of heights, I couldn't bring myself to get up there, and forget about that sky deck or whatever. I couldn't even get on the Ferris wheel at Navy Pier, okay? This is how much of a sissy I am.

I won't lie to you, I missed my kid, alright? I got choked up here and there when I saw little toddlers running around, having fun. However, this does not mean I didn't enjoy my adult time either. I got to spend an entire weekend being pre-mom me. We went out to the bar with the family and their friends for a little pre-wedding imbibing. It didn't matter what time we finished up or how lit up we were. We could just go to the hotel and fall asleep. We walked and biked around the City not having to worry about whether or not we were giving our son heat stroke or stopping for nap time. We went to the wedding without having to worry about leaving at a certain time to be home with our boy. It was, refreshing, needed. Naturally, when we saw him on Sunday afternoon, we wouldn't let go, but that's neither here nor there. Now that we know he's cool with spending a weekend away from us once in a while, it might be prudent to indulge our pre-kid selves and have a weekend. Right... we'll see.

On Giving Up

Typically my posts are smarmy and full of humor because I want to make you people laugh, only if it lasts for just a split second of your entire day. So I'll throw this disclaimer out there right now... this post probably won't be humorous, it probably won't leave you feeling jovial on the inside, you probably won't think about something you read here and laugh about it later. It will be downtrodden, and depressing, it will echo the feelings of a forlorn pet owner. If this shit isn't for you, it might be best to stop reading this post right.... here.

For years and years, our family owned a parrot, Paco. My mother met him at the pet store she worked at 30+ years ago and formed a bond with him as he sat at the cash register. One day, she decided to bring him home to join the family. For about the first 8 years of my life, Paco and I were rather indifferent of each other. I knew if I tried to pet him, he would bite my damn finger off. Still, I talked to him, and tried desperately to be friends with him because I found him incredibly interesting for a hateful bird. Paco had a big mouth, as most parrots do, he would screech and carry on and just over all be a noisy bird. This eventually led him to be placed in one of the bedrooms, which would have been fine, but it was the bedroom my dad slept in while he worked mid-nights, so it was dark, and it was cold.

Being the big ol' softie that I am, I brought him in to my room as I spent a lot of time in there and it was the warmest room in the house. A great environment for a warm weather bird, right? Eventually, I wore him down. After spending countless hours with him, reading, playing board games, having conversations, he finally warmed up to me, and we became pals. That is until we got a cat. He fell in love with the cat, and I was yesterday's bitch. Though, through the years, the three of us would hang out in my room, playing board games, the cat swatting away the pieces to be a dick, like most cats are. Paco would grab a piece in his mouth and run away, something he learned from the cat undoubtedly.

We got about 10 years with the cat before we lost him to cancer. Paco and I were devastated. Paco wasn't the same after he lost his cat. He stopped speaking, and just sat there quietly, observing, mourning. Eventually the time came for me to move out. Since Paco and I were still pals, he moved out with me. He was the center of attention, the only child, but still something was missing. While, his quietness was a blessing while living in an apartment, I felt bad that he had fallen in to such a depression. I thought, I'm ready for a new cat, maybe he is too.

Leopold entered the scene and once more Paco was in love, and again, I was yesterday's bitch. Leopold was the center of his universe and he only wanted to be around him. I think Leopold became his mate. He would holler until he got to be with the cat, and when he was with him, he was happy. I should mention here, that we also have a dog, who Paco hated and dive bombed on the daily. He's always hated dogs, big and small, I don't know why. He didn't care how big they were, he'd dive bomb them and bite the shit out of them, he had no fear.

Time passed, and then there was a baby. During the first months of his life while he was immobile, Paco could give a shit less about the baby, until the baby started getting around, then he was a threat. He was a threat to his cat, who the baby adored and wanted to pet. Paco did not want anyone touching his cat and would pretty much peck anyone's eyes out that dared pay attention to Leopold. So, he took some swipes at the baby.

This got to be a problem. I thought... why is he having such an issue? He was around when I was baby and he didn't dive bomb and bite me. Of course, he didn't have the freedom when I was a baby that he had now. Was he jealous? Maybe. I think it mostly stemmed from him wanting no one touching his cat.

After this behavior continued for a long while, it was decided that Paco might be better living with a foster family who didn't have young kids or dogs to incite his anger. This decision was not settled on lightly. Paco and I had been together for 30 years. As much of a dick as he was, he was my family. I found a lovely bird rescue through my vet. The plan was to place him with a foster couple who are members of their bird club and the foster couple might elect to keep him, or he could be adopted out.

This broke my heart. During the time I communicated with the rescue group to the time they found him a foster home (which didn't take very long) I felt an emptiness, a dread that he was going to be leaving. I did learn he was going to live with a very nice couple who had 2 cats and 2 birds. This information helped a little, but I still didn't want my little asshole to leave.

He left for his new home on February 28th. The second I closed the door, I wept. I wept for three days. It's been three months since he's been gone. I get regular updates on his progress and hear he is doing quite well and is happy. He loves his new cats and has made friends with the Macaws he lives with. Which, for a bird who tried to murder his cockatiel friend years ago is amazing. He went to his first bird meeting and was quite convivial. He stepped up on random people's hands and was quite social. The couple he is with now, is the couple he'll spend the rest of his life with.

I'm thrilled he won't be bounced around further. I'm thrilled he's found a new loving environment where he can thrive. However, there's still a huge hole in my heart for him. Part of that hole is missing him, and other part is the fact that I gave up on him. I couldn't give him any more and I had to let him go. I wasn't a good enough bird parent and I couldn't give him what he needed so he was letting me know by acting out and there was still nothing I could do.

It hasn't gotten better in the three months that he's been gone. Sometimes, I still hear him fluttering around, or I'll hear his bell in his cage or some other toy jangling. I haven't had many pets, but I never let any go, they spent their lives with me, and that's what I intended for Paco. He deserved better though, better than what I could ultimately offer, and that's the kicker, I'm a bird parent failure.

I miss him. I think about him often. It feels strange that he is someone else's. It feels strange that he has other cat companions, bird companions, and people companions. It still feels like he should be with me. I haven't felt the same since he left. There's a part of me that's just gone, and maybe that's silly since I'm talking about a bird, but I grew up with him. He got to hear all my tales of woe and teenage angst and all my achievements and happy times when I was younger. He always just listened.

But... the important thing now is that he's happy. He's thriving. He's loving life. That's what he deserves.

On Total and Utter Randomness

I had a couple different topics that I could probably milk and get a couple of blog posts out of, but they seemed so insignificant to merit their own post, except for maybe this news right here:

As some or most of you might know, I am an attempted writer. I do have one fiction book published at the moment, that has remained rather stagnant since its publication in 2011. This year I decided I'd spend a little money and enter it in a couple book festivals, not expecting high results, because, what writer does? My first festival was the San Francisco Beach Book Festival. "Stress Test" did not win any of the grand prizes... however, it did win First Honorable Mention in the General Fiction category. Not such a huge deal to most, but a pretty big deal to me, as its creator who though my first book might very well be utter drivel. This little milestone is quite exciting to me, and almost a week later, I'm still riding the high from it.

This second bit is just a general observation about G-Money. I will preface this by saying, I know my boy is only almost two and things will change for him drastically as he gets older. I brought him over to a school a couple weeks ago to play, his future elementary school actually. One of the many things I like about him is his ability to stand back and observe his surroundings before he dives right in and reacts. There were about a dozen other kids playing while we were there and he cautiously walked up to the playground and kept a safe distance and watched each of the kids doing various things. He stood there for probably about 20 minutes just taking it in. He then started to play on his own, near the other kids, but not trying to play with them. I could see that he was hesitant about engaging them and it brought me back to my own elementary school playground happenings where I'd often times either play alone or with a set group of friends. I was painfully shy throughout all of my school years, and am still very shy, I know how it affected me, and I shudder to think that my sweet boy might take after me in that aspect. On the other hand, I know he's still so young and he may blossom into a social butterfly by time he reaches school. Either way, I just want him to be happy.

This third bit has to do with dating. I was at a bar with some co-workers the other day, having a good time, relaxing, when totally unsolicited a freakishly tall biker man approached me. He asked my name, I told him, he told me his name, he asked if he could hang out (at the bar) with me, I quickly said, I'm married. He was like... "that's okay." Red flag number one. Now, when a woman almost immediately tells a stranger she's married, does that not tell said stranger that she is not interested in talking to him any further? He still persisted. It must have been something about my red nosed, puffy eyed, sick voiced, no make-up personality that really got this guy. Then I was like, look dude, I'm married to this guy's sister (pointing at my co-worker). "Oh, that's even better." Seriously, bro? It took him a minute or two to let it sink in, then he was like, "Oh, so it's like a f**k off kinda thing right?" I stared at him while it set in. You'd think he would of gathered that from the whole, I'm "married" thing. Don't get me wrong, just because I'm married doesn't mean I'll be an asshole and refuse to talk to the opposite sex completely. But, I'm not completely blind, creepy biker man approaches one of only a couple mildly okay looking chicks in a bar asking to hang around after knowing she's married, and to a woman (so he thinks) and won't back down. Man, I can't be a party to that.

See what I'm saying? Three somewhat interesting pieces of information that really do not merit their own post, but it's something to think about. So let me know, any of you have any scum bag stories for me?

On Starting a Publishing Business

 

If you follow me on Facebook, this is old news to you, if not, then you won't be completely bored by the following information. I've done some thinking and deciding, and planning. After successfully publishing the first book all by my lonesome, editing, doing the cover art, getting the ISBN numbers, copyrights, etc., I thought it might be time to start my own press. If one is going to ride the self publishing train, it seems like the next logical step. Reading up on it, it makes sense. No one wants to look on the inside cover of a book and see that the publisher is in fact, the author. It does in fact, look hokey.

So, with that in mind, I've set the wheels in motion to officially start my own press. I've got the name picked out. Research is done to make sure said name is available. Next week I'll be putting the papers in to claim the name and business. This might sound like a bigger deal than it really is. Officially, I'm just doing this for myself so that my own books have an actual publisher, instead of just me. However, if it so happens that some other newbie Indie authors want an actual publisher without going through the hassle of starting their own press, well, hey, I'll be available, and maybe I'll pick up some proceeds from it. Yes friends, it really is "All About the Benjamins." Though in my case, it'll probably be "All About the Hamiltons."

In the end though, it's not about the money (obviously because I'm not making any). I mean, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to be Stephen King or James Patterson rich, but if I can get a story out there, and entertain even one person, then that's what it's really about in the long run. It's also about perseverance. Following a story through to fruition, editing it, editing it again, and then one more time. Choosing your cover art, setting your price, your publishing platforms, filing all the paperwork. Being stubborn enough to get shit done. I did it once, and it was awesome. Awesome when it was done, mind you. Knowing that I had it in me. The during is what really grates on you. Having these ideas swirling through your brain, but never really knowing quite how to put them down on paper, or screen.

Case in point, the short story book, the first story is out there, it's started off on a gritty note, but I fear it's treading into the contrite shit realm. I don't know what the main problem of the story is going to be. I don't know who the antagonist is going to be. Maybe the main character? How? This is shit I just don't know. I can't stop thinking about it though. I make little notes, I scribble those notes out, I make more notes, I throw the page away. It's like throwing away your feelings.

It will be done though. Someday. Probably not this year. Sure, I can shoot for November. That would give me 6 or 7 months of writing and a couple weeks of straight editing. For the typical writer, that should be more than enough time, but I'm a procrastinator, I make excuses. I choose sleep over writing most of the time. However, I may be back on the evening writing train some time soon. But, it will be done.

On Giving It Away For Free and Always Working

It's not what it sounds like. I know what you're thinking, get your mind out of the gutter.

I've recently been alerted that this is "Read an e-Book Week." Who knew such a thing existed? Certainly not me. In any case, since I personally have an e-Book floating around the world, getting read by exactly no one, I took full advantage of throwing my book into promotion mix. For this week only, until March 7th, you can download a copy of my book for FREE! Yes homies, I said FREE! Not like paying for the sucker would break your pocket book. It's typically .99 if you're all about paying for things. But, now you don't have to regret throwing that dollar out the window and you can read my drivel for free! Much like reading this blog. To download your free copy, follow this link: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/49360 and use the code: RW100 at checkout to get it for free on your e-Reader or computer.

Now that I've got the shameless plugging out of the way, I'll get down to brass tacks. I may never be a renowned writer, I may never have a best seller, hell, I probably won't ever be remotely popular because I don't write dumb ass sparkling vampire fiction or downright abysmal fan faction based on said sparkling vampire fiction. I've accepted that, it's ok, it really is. The point is, I like writing. Even if it's just for me. I like entertaining my small sphere of influence, even if they're just humoring me by telling me they're entertained.

I've been working a bit on my short story book. I still don't know what the hell it will be about in the long run, but that's part of the adventure. A lot of writers will outline the shit out of their pieces, they'll have everything planned out, and the story will be written exactly as it's been planned. I tried story boarding, I really did. I always stray from the plan and then I think, why did I bother in the first place? So, now I fly by the seat of my pants. The inspiration has been flowing lately. It's exhilarating. Some people get their kicks by jumping out of air planes, and swimming with sharks, or whatever else, but me, I'm electrified by ideas flowing through my mind and getting jotted down on paper.

So even when I'm working my day job, or I'm at home with my son, I'm always driving ideas through my head. I'm always thinking of the next book, the next story, the next disaster. The hopefulness of what that story might be is entrancing. It might not be much, but at least it's something. 

On A Month Deep Into 2015

Well... now that we've got that nasty bitch called January out of the way, why don't we breeze through February and March while we're at it too?

To quote Bill Murray in Groundhog's Day, winter in the Midwest and Northeast really will be cold, it's going be grey, and it's going to last you the rest of your life. At least... that's what it feels like when you're ass deep in it.

Then again, without the shitty Michigan winters, how can one truly enjoy the majestic pleasures of the summer and fall. You know, the nice four months, maybe five of warm weather you get to enjoy before you totally freeze your ass off for the rest of the year. Without one extreme, you really can't enjoy the other.

In any case, I've held true to my promise to myself. I sat my bony ass down in that chair and started my new project. It happened one day after work when I happened to have an hour or so to myself. No one was home, the house was quiet, I thought.. I... I might get to write right now. By golly, I'm taking advantage of this. I eagerly climbed the stairs and walked into my office that is still lined with boxes despite having moved in last May. I turned on my computer, opened the word processor, and looked at that blank white screen, that blinking cursor taunting me again. I felt a rush of fear, starting over again. Will it be any good? Will I see this one through to fruition? Will I write what I really want to write? Should I be worried if people will judge me? Piss on it, I thought, and started typing.

I'll be honest. I know this will be a book of short stories. Probably four good length ones in total. Aside from having a few quick ideas of how to start them, I really have no idea how any of the stories will turn out. I don't know the characters, I don't know the story lines, I'm really just swinging blindly in the dark. I know I want the stories to be real, to be visceral, gritty. I want to impose some sort of shock value, I want the reader to really imagine what it might feel like if the story on the page were real. Of course, don't all writers want that? Maybe... or maybe some of them just want to make boat loads of money and have their crummy stories being made into crummier movies. I won't lie, I'd love to make boat loads of money on my stories and have my best selling book made into a blockbuster movie, but I really don't think that's in the cards. I really just want to write to get people's imaginations churning.

While it will be slow going, I'm thrilled to be back at it again. It's somewhat invigorating to be at the beginning again. To go through the whole process. I'm looking forward to going through the finished project piece by piece, to edit, get the copyright information, register it, design the cover, put it out into the world. I think this one I'll work a little harder on advertising, I feel like this one might really be something. Or maybe it will be drivel, something only useful in starting your campfire. Time will tell.