Writer’s Day in the Life …

Writer – Bless me Father for I have sinned.  It’s been 26 days since I last wrote.

Priest – Have you read anything, my child?

Writer – Yes Father.  About eight books since then.

Priest – Hmm.  That’s not many.  That’s about how many I’d expect if you had been writing.

Writer – _____

Priest – Tell me what you’ve read.

Writer – I read two Stephen Kings, one of them a short story collection, the other a car thing—

Priest – Oh dear – not Christine, I hope.

Writer – No Father, much worse.  The newer one.  From a Buick 8.

Priest – Okay then.  We can actually count that one twice since it takes a real effort to keep reading it.

Writer – Thank you Father.  I also read another short story collection called Dangerous Women.

Priest – Have you gotten into the erotica reading?  What is this book?

Writer – No Father.  It’s a collection of almost “noir” stories with the character type in them.

Priest – Very literary then.  That sounds good.

Writer – Unfortunately it’s also full of mysogeny.

Priest – I’ve heard this word.  How is it defined?

Writer – It’s when there’s dislike or contempt, usually because of an assumed prejudice of women.  Lots of objectification—

Priest – I see.  So this book involved … a great deal of sex?

Writer – No.  But there was a heavy leaning on the assumption women exist for man’s sexual gratification.

Priest – ______

Writer – Anyway, I also read another Asimov “Foundation” novel, and three indie published books.

Priest – Let’s get back to the, how did you pronounce it? “MY – SOJ – IN- EE?”  Explain it so I understand.

Writer – It’s a big topic, Father.  What would you like to know?

Priest – Well, the last part about sex; it’s my duty to remind you it sounds scripturally sound, dear.

Writer – Wait – you mean about man’s gratification?

Priest – Yes.  Paul writes—

Writer – I know what Paul writes, Father.  But it goes both ways about suffering a spouse.

Priest – Have you had marital problems, my child?

Writer – No.  I’m just saying, there’s a more enlightened understanding about “suffering a husband.”

Priest – I see.

Writer – Besides, mysogeny is more than just viewing women as sex objects.  It involves seeing them as—

Priest – Careful dear – remember the Lord created woman as a “help mate” for Adam.

Writer – Help is not a footstool.

Priest – Footstools can help reach books on higher shelves.  Yes.  And don’t forget the Marys – at Jesus feet.

Writer – I know the stations of the cross Father.

Priest – Would you look at the time.  Tell me about these “indie” novels you read.

Writer – One was a horrible fantasy story set in Irish folklore that obviously mirrored Harry Potter.

Priest – Sounds delightful, you must share your copy with me.

Writer – The other two were great – a spy thriller and a great speculative fiction called Chimpanzee.

Priest –  Uh, the premise of Chimpanzee?

Writer – A futuristic society where you have to get your brain wiped of your education if you can’t pay your student loans.

Priest – I see.

Writer – This guy’s wife has a job but he doesn’t so he has to serve on the conservation corps and get his multiple degrees wiped while his wife supports them and they buy a new house.

Priest – Oh dear.  I’m not sure that’s appropriate.

Writer – Appropriate for what?

Priest – It’s just that, well it appears you are struggling with your writing because of these confusing ideas you’ve encountered.  I can only imagine the toll this is taking on your marriage, child.  You should consider this before choosing your next book.

Writer – ___

Priest – Child?

Writer – You know, I’ve also been reading a lot of Moses lately.  I’m thinking about changing my pen name to Terzah.

Priest – Who?

Writer – Excuse me Father, I feel a story coming on.

Priest – But your penance, dear.  I haven’t blessed you yet.

Writer – I’m a grown woman, Father.  Not a “dear.”  I need to go.  I think if I wait around to be blessed by you I could die a very old and disappointed lady.  Gotta’ go write.

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Asrai Blessing: NaNoWriMo Best of the Daily (The End)

The pilgrims gathered on the bow of the ship as instructed by Larien.  Their traveling things, now much lighter, had been hoisted above their heads to the awaiting dirigible airship above.  Now, they each took turns saying their goodbyes to the Asrai.  To R’Zen and Tboi, Amras said, “Courage and wisdom your honor brings.  I embrace you for certain of times.”  Tboi blushed a pinkish color and R’Zen bowed deeply at the pair.

Larian touched Hoss’s face and cradled it there with a rippling kind of sadness in her face, “So acquainted with loss your strength.”  She turned to Ingrid and said, “A heart must never win where knowledge can sacrifice.”  Ingrid made no sign that she understood, but nodded and hugged the brother and sister.

Each of them taking one of Miriam’s hands, they placed a kiss on both and said, “Stories to tell.  Stories to tell.”  She smiled and shivered, thanking them for their blessing.

Terra felt ticklish again as Larien and Amras both gave her a parting hug.  “Take your care, world woman,” Larien still used the mysterious title, “must needs to find the cure.”  She looked to Ingrid and Miriam for help, but neither had any answers to offer and met her glance only with a shrug or raising of the eyebrows.


This is the last quick read of the best (or least despicable) selections from the previous day’s word count, by virtue of my daily writing regimen for the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).  WARNING:  editing has not taken place.  NaNo conquered.  Next move – additions and revision number one.

 

 

 

Lizard vs Horse: NaNoWriMo Best of the Daily (29)

Terra was excited.  It was one thing to read about things, even to watch vids on them, but in a short time she was going to actually see, with her own eyes, the beaches of Kepler-Z.  R’Zen, reading her excitement from behind and aching to give his much atrophied legs a good exercise, jogged to her side.  Her horse, startled by the appearance of a fully grown matterhorn gentry suddenly appearing at its side, crow hopped and then calmed back to its original trot.

Participant-2014-Square-Button“N’Sa, apologetic for startling dumb animal,”  he smiled his cantankerous smirk and Terra laughed, not missing his intended irony.  “Beach not far,” he trilled, “if Ms. Terra wish to race.”  He was stripping his leggings and tying them around his neck.  Terra smiled, even giggled a little, then played a game she remembered playing with Ingrid what seemed like so very long ago.

 


Tune in for quick reads of the best (or least despicable) selections from the previous day’s word count, by virtue of my daily writing regimen for the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).  WARNING:  editing has not taken place.

 

 

 

Morning Mind Squatter

1949-scattered-papersIn the early morning, as I rise from the depths of that all-encompassing death of sleep, I sometimes stumble into conversations and ramblings that aren’t my own.   In those moments right before I open my eyes, I feel my thoughts stroke surfaces of things I don’t even care about.  This morning it was something about a lecture on topography and a way to talk to those folks that prefer to dine earlier in the day.

It’s as if I woke into a wrong room, and body … inhabited by a completely different person who was not expecting my arrival at that hour, if at all.  Irritated that I was taking my synapses back, the phantom intellect and perpetuator of useless topics stood up in a huff and shuffled her papers in irritation, then stormed toward the middle or back of my brain to see about finding a more private room, or to schedule the current one for another time when I would be less likely to interrupt.

To my knowledge, I’ve never once been pleasantly surprised by this imbecile.  Her random topics aren’t entertaining in any way, and although boring, they are too awkward or alarming to effectively put me back to sleep. I think I understand where the stories about tiny shoe cobblers might have originated if this is the state of our condition in middle-age.  I’m not a big shoe collector, but I’d take quiet little cobbler elves over this ignoramus any day.  I fear she will chase away my muse inspired wakings – those mornings where I rise with good ideas and rush to my keyboard before coffee to get them written.

I’m not trying to be selfish here.  If she would simply pick any number of the millions of things that even remotely interest me to poke around in, I’d let her stay longer.  What’s wrong with a little history of Ireland, book reviews, Mars and physics or astronomy . . . even gluten-free or lactose intolerant solutions.  Okay, those last ones are snore-inducers, but there’s things in there like: Nero and pyromania, “the threat of pink,” oh – and don’t miss “code yellow butterfly.”  She has her pick of specifics or abstract to run with – all of them fascinating and/or useful.  But instead, I have to walk in on the sordid pictures of her dissecting the types of arch support, or why the letter “J” curves left instead of right.

I worry.  What if this is a takeover starting?  I’ve always feared that day, when I start to forget little and big things, and head down Alzheimer’s road.  What if this boring and presumptuous phantom is biding her time for that, so she can take over my person?  A body snatcher in the makings?  Perhaps more sleep and exercise is the answer!  Well, more sleep at least.

Don’t mistake my anxiety.  I know this mind squatter pulls these topics from somewhere in my head.  I’m not insinuating a lobotomy of all that is bland.  It’s just . . . well, you know the score.  Take a difficult math concept and “Teacher A,” who explains patiently, shows you pages in your book, and even scribbles some things on the board.  You just don’t get it.  Enter “Teacher B,” who says little and writes from simple to extreme across the board, then turns and, you feel enlightened and now completely understand the concept.

This morning intruder is starting to make me wonder if I might like to explore (more fully) the techniques of sinus cleansing.  If she ends up being “Teacher B,” I’m doomed.

toast

Dear readers and “blends” (that’s blog friends),

In a desperate effort to post daily and to keep up my mandate to write daily, I find that I’ll be taking a hiatus from time to time.  My day job takes much out of me and I want to do a good job, so writing gets done in the car (in my head) and by the time I’m home, dinner, clean-up, and prep for tomorrow happens … well the pillow calls me.  So I beg your tolerance for my excursions into poetry and other ramblings which I find much easier to wrangle than more complicated matters of character and plot.  I want to do a good job for them too.  Cheers, and as always, thanks for reading.

toast

vacuum sucking
headache mucking
not a fucking
thing to do but wait.

Nyckelring

drink a pill
try to chill
how much will
this cost me on time?

hit the shower
smell like flower
check out now, or
pay the price for late.

luggage packing
searching, racking
brainwaves lacking
where’s the damn keys?

engine turning
go-time yearning
anger burning
stalled again – I’m toast.

Cards

Loneliness Combat Tactics #1

Backstory – I moved to Idaho for a new job after we (my partner M and I) just purchased our new home in Washington state.  Destiny is a bitch sometimes.  M has a couple jobs and since we can’t sell the house for at least a year she is staying, and I’m here in potato and gun country (not to be mistaken for potato-gun country which I believe refers to Florida where my totally handsome but not so bright cousin lives).  I miss M and although I made the terrible error of agreeing to share a rent with a co-worker (I really dislike room mates) I still find ways to be lonely.  So I decided to insert some humor into this predicament and develop some creative ways to battle loneliness. Hence my new series explodes upon the scene!   This weekend my roomy is out of town taking care of some of her leftover out-of-state business.  So I have the place to myself.  SWEET SILENCE.  Love it!  I’m looking around for the not-so-obvious creative things to do in my solitude – here’s one. Continue reading