CHAPTER THREE PART TWO

... is now up over at DEAD OAKS.



Enjoy


B

DELAYS

Sorry about the delays, guys. There are no excuses this time. I've been working hard as a gameslinger, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't be keeping up with my craft. I've just been lazy.

Maybe a post on laziness tomorrow evening.

GOOD NEWS THOUGH.

Chapter Three (Part One) is now live over at DEAD OAKS.



Enjoy!


B

I'm Sorry About Your TV

Hi,

Bear with me.

You descended into my dreams night after night, waltzing in like you owned the rights to my subconscious and you just needed to check that I was using it correctly. I’ve dreamed of you so many times, I could fill books and books with the ones I remember. If I would ever have an empty night of you, I knew I would wake up in tears, missing pieces of myself.

Which is weird, because I had never met you until you moved in next door.

Strange things have been happening to me. They’re linked. I’ve dreamed of you since I was seventeen, and I’m now thirty-three. That’s more than enough time to rely on your appearance at night. Then they stopped. That’s strange thing number one.

But imagine my surprise that you had just decided to find a different way. I woke up startled and sad, the room around me looked nothing like the one I had been using for years. And then I got my coffee, and saw you climb out of a van from my window, swing around to the back, and take out a box.

You were moving in next door. And that was weird thing number two. But not the last.

The last of the odd started a few weeks ago, and is what I must apologize for. You see, I work late. So late that the only things left open are the ones stuck in 24/7 existences. So late that I wear headphones to watch TV so as not to wake up the people below me. And so late that there is nothing on TV anyway.

But that night you moved in, there was something on that idiot box. I flipped and flipped like usual, and landed on something I had never seen before. The remote battery died mid-station switch. So it stayed.

At first it was just static, you see. I tried everything I could short of pounding it with the lid of the toilet tank. Then, slowly, after about a half hour and right before I was determined to give up, it became clear. The noise went away, and there you were, dealing with giant versions of the guys who drove the big moving truck that helped you move.

You were so angry, so livid at them for breaking a clock. You kept saying, “This is an heirloom!” To which they would reply in a series of barks and grunts, growing bigger and bigger until you could barely see their eyes filled with their hatred above your new home.

And then it faded back into noise, and a loud BANG from a car backfiring sprang out in the silence of the night outside our homes. I went to sleep because the channel didn’t come back for the last half hour I was up.

I met you the next day, you were outside in your garage arranging boxes and the like and I said my hellos and my welcomes to the neighborhood. We chatted for a while, and then you told me about the movers totally destroying one of your boxes, the one that contained a clock your grandfather had made in the early years of the century. That last odd occurrence finally clicked, I heard it click in my brain like a light switch, and I knew that my TV was piping in your dreams at night. The backfire must have woken you up and kept you up for a while.

I didn’t tell you. I was nervous enough to meet the literal girl of my dreams, but more so now because of what had been happening. So I decided to write this letter.

Night after night since that day, I watched you dream from the comfort of my own couch. I’m sorry. That’s a creepy thing to do, but it becomes even shittier when I tried to use it for personal gain. You’re right. I couldn’t have really known you talked to your sister about her dog that day (or that you talked to her at all). And I’m sorry that I changed my hair because you had a dream about the pizza delivery boy. I hope that you can’t blame me, but, I fell in love with you in my own dreams over the years, and I couldn’t help but fall again in yours.

You have to listen to me. I love you.  I do. I’ve thrown my TV out the window – sorry that it landed in your driveway – so I would never be tempted to watch it again. Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up.

I’d rather have a cup of coffee, or walk down our street, or help you carry boxes. I’d rather learn more from you than what you hallucinate during REM. I’m tired of hiding in things that aren’t real, I’m tired of only really knowing you when our eyes are closed.

Even if you don’t believe me, at least this is an interesting conversation starter, right?

With Apologies,

Your Neighbor

330-555-6812

(Call Me?)

The Delay Is Over

I'm going to do a double post tomorrow.

A Dead Oaks section over at deadoaks.blogspot.com and a short story here. Depending whether or not my cousin enjoys it.


B

Yargh

Another delay.

Deadlines Are Terrible

Hello,


Deadlines should be realized as a fake idea. Especially when they're self imposed. Due to life's random bullshit, I am more than often having to resort to missing by a few days because I procrastinate in the first place, resulting in something stupid happening meaning that I've gotta push things back.


I would impose "Deadline Weeks" but what the hell will that do for me with a weekly installment project. And also, I would just procrastinate until the end of the week, blowing the "Deadline Week" anyway. This is why I need an editor, or a partner, or a paycheck to motivate me to get things in on time. So until then, if I have any readers at all, it is up to you to help me to finish on time by demanding it. 


Corey has done well so far.


That said, I'm working on tonight's submission. It should be up tonight, depending on whether or not this coffee shop gets attacked by aliens.




B

DEAD OAKS, Chapter Two

Chapter Two of DEAD OAKS is now live.

Go read it.

Now.

I'll post about my struggles with deadlines tomorrow.


B

CHAPTER 2

New DEAD OAKS section in an hour. Promise.

I've decided to split off Anna to a different blog. I'll post that if and when I decide to. At this point I'm even somewhat open to cutting her completely.

What do you think? Do you want an extra, meta-story to float above DO?


Brian

CHAPTER ONE

Haaaaay everybody.


Sorry this got off to a late start, seeing as it's technically Wednesday, but hey, I don't owe you guys anything. Right?


On that note, please start reading my new blog novel, DEAD OAKS, which was kicked off with the first, albeit short, chapter a few moments ago. BE SURE TO READ the intro post by Anna, because it's part of it all. It's right below the first Chapter. Also, I like feedback, so let me know what you think.


I'm still on track for Chapter Two to be next Monday, and it will be lengthier, I promise.




Enjoy!


EDIT: I changed the age of Roman for some reasons. If you read it when he was much older and thought it felt off, the new age is much better and more interesting.


EDIT 2: I'm thinking of splitting the Anna posts from the Novel posts, lest it gets confusing later on. Have Anna have her own blog about it, and keep the novel blog strictly novel. Anna is going to become sort of a meta-story over top of the novel. What do you think?


- B

Apologies

Tonight was my first official night at my new job, I may have to push DEAD OAKS back to tomorrow, but still keep the Monday timetable for further installments.

Sorry to those of you who were excited.


B

DEAD OAKS

Hey guys. Remember that novel/blog idea I had?


It's begun. Expect the first chapter sometime tomorrow, Monday. Here's the link: DEAD OAKS. I hope everyone will enjoy it as I work through the experience of writing it. Feedback is welcomed, and let's get you all hooked. 


HIGH FIVES ALL AROUND, GUYS.




Brian

A Story Cometh

Hello all.

It has been quite a while since I've blogged, so here are some quick updates.

1. The Secret Project has been finished. It's called "the Pairing List" and I wrote it with my fantastic author of a cousin, Corey Evans. We wrote it as a wedding gift for our cousin Erin and new cousin-in-law Dan. We wish them the best, and hope that they liked it enough to forget that we're cheap. The secrecy was so that it would be a surprise for them and the family. We'll be trying to publish soon.

2. Speaking of publishing, I'm turning a blog into a novel. I hope I can gain some followers and a fan-base this way, but if not, that's fine too. I've got some friends that might like to sit through a story, even if it's just because they don't want to offend me or because I can Punch Really Hard. I'll be writing it by section and chapter, unless that doesn't work. So, I'll make you aware of the Chapter, and then post in sections within. The sections will vary in length, but hopefully will be substantial, and will come every MONDAY NIGHT, starting when I get the first section written. I will post a link to this Novel Blog when I get it up and running. The title of the story will be the title of the blog. I hope.

3. I'll be updating this more frequently with the usual inane bullshit and tries at explaining either how awesome or stupid #2 turns out to be as I get going on it.

4. I got a new job as a game slinger at Gamestop. Time to save money and think about an actual future at some point.

5. Uncharted 2 and Brütal Legend are just so rad.

6. Zombieland was sweet, need to go see Wild Things asap. And maybe catch Paranormal Activity.

Until next time, that'll do pigs.

The End of the Tunnel

The secret project nears completion, with it's final date being this monday before the editing look-throughs. I think it's turning out even more fantastic than I had originally thought, and the idea took turns in ways I could have never imagined. It was definitely a process and a journey, and I will have a complete blog post on it when it has been revealed.

The script is well on it's way, and I'm sitting here in the coffee shop editing and polishing the first act to give to an eager producer in LA. The due date for that is next Wednesday. (Self applied by myself and my writing partner.)

I also may have cooked up another idea last night, and have been discussing it with fellow writers.

AND I want to get to my ghost story. I can't let that one slip, it's scratching to be let out of my brain-cage.

I fear a day when the idea bank runs dry. For now, though, it doesn't look like it's soon.

Now I just need to figure out how to get ****ing paid to do this stuff. The love is still strong for it, though!

Music and Writing

Do you listen to music as you write, or right before to kick-start your brain? Sometimes I can listen to music while simultaneously writing, but other times I need silence. - Corey

Good question.

I would say that 3/4 of the time that I write, I listen to music while I do so. To me it's not distracting and if I have an idea of the scene, I will actually select something that fits the mood of what I'm getting into.

That doesn't necessarily mean, however, that everything stays nice and tidy as I'm birthing words. I will more often than not stray to some other mood, or just not be digging the music, which makes me change it (the music) or what I'm writing. This is a good thing, something that I could claim I'm counting on, so as to shift what I'm writing from what I planned in to the unknown of creativity. Making those ideas flow. Y'know.

I also find inspiration in good music, which drives me to want to create things for other people to like as much as I'm liking track seven or three or twelve.

On the other hand, when I want silence, it's when I'm most focused and set in my ways on what I want to write, or that I'm in a very emotional state (I'm such a pansy) in which I don't want anything to add to or take away from it. Maybe I'm super happy and just want that to reflect in my work, or maybe something went horribly wrong and I'm writing to get it out. I need that concentration to even get me motivated to write when I'm in such a mood.

Right. Thanks for the question, Corey, it helped me update.

I was writing a bit of my secret project a few seconds ago, actually, not listening to music. Only because Allison (my sister) called and interrupted and I had to hit pause, which then led me to take a bigger break. A productive one, so thanks to Allison for this post too.

And back to writing.

Of Muffins and Coffee

Hello again.

I suppose this will serve as a warm up before I start my notes on this script once more. I've chosen again to write the notes by hand, for some reason the process of doing it that way helps me follow through. Also, I suppose, I look a bit more professional to these people occupying this coffee shop. That's a plus. I hope one day they'll ask me for a business card, and I can say, "No."

I am also currently listening to a Rayess Bek album that I bought the other day. He is pretty freaking rad, flipping between languages as he hip-hops in my brain. I wonder if it'll be conducive to good writing. Haven't tried yet, tonight will be a test.

And so I sit, with a cup of coffee and a chocolate chocolate chip muffin, ready to write.

Thanks for the company.

(I read Neil Gaiman's blog, and it seems like he has things to say all the time. Maybe it's because he gets asked questions. Ask me questions. Or maybe its because he keeps bees. Or maybe its because he is an accomplished, famous writer. Whatever.)

A Breath of Fresh Air

I've gotten second wind in my writing life. It seems like every day this week I've been off to the park or coffee shop just to write and work on things. I'm currently making notes (handwritten. that's just how I felt, and it got me going. do what it takes.) on some of my partner's section in our anti-hero script. This is long overdue, and I'm a douche bag. I get it. Better late than never, because we've got a good idea that just happens to be marketable. It's not every day you get those.

As a writer, you can't only just write things with marketing in mind. You just gotta write it down. Evict it from living in your head and make it set up shop written down somewhere. Even if it isn't complete or done, just get it out. It'll get all jumbled and overwhelming if you don't purge every once in a while and I need to get a lot better at keeping my hand on that release valve. I'm consciously aware afterwards, however, if what I've barfed onto my laptop's hard drive can be published or marketed... though, I have never really done either of those. I can just sense it. Just because I rarely go out on the limb to try and get stuff out there (YET.), doesn't mean I'm not right about feeling that stuff out. I've trusted this feeling before with other people's work to some success, so maybe that means I'm a better reader/editor/gut feeler/producer kind of guy than I am a writer.

Anywho, on the same good news front in the realm of writing: the project I'm writing with He Who Must Not Be Named (yes, that one.) is going swimmingly. After my bout of writer's block, a bit of inspiration came from an amazingly inventive and well written section by him. He single handedly kicked me in the idea factory and I ended up producing my section way before my deadline. So, thanks to him. What we're writing means a lot to me, and probably him, so whatever it ends up being, I'm sure we'll both love it and the process.

Time to flip back up to the opening thoughts of this post and talk a little about where to write. The short answer is: Wherever pushes you to fucking write.

I've rarely found that I get a lot done at home; there are too many distractions. Maybe that's just what I tell myself, but I end up surfing the web or playing videogames. Watching a movie or whatever. None of that is bad until it eclipses what I want to get done. So I leave. I may still have internet access at these places, but I am more embarrassed to check Facebook and read really nerdy things in public. Fark is okay, I can read that as a break out there in the world, but checking Gamepro religiously is just... well... unacceptable for some reason. It probably would creep others out just as it does me. I still listen to music no matter where I go though, and I can take breaks just to stop and watch people as well. If I want, order a drink and a muffin. And write write write.

I spend so much time in my room at home that the idea of Getting Out uncorks my creativity. Isn't that the basis of much imagination? To get away? For me it is.

But alas, the Grind is closing as I write this, so I will clean up my dishes and head home. Probably play xbox until tomorrow. Have a wonderful whenever-you-read-this, everyone.

Jobs.

It's been a while, but I thought I'd update for the sake of updating.

I, like most of the nation, am looking for a job. A job with benefits that I do not hate, preferably in Ohio or in eastern Indiana or western Pennsylvania. Hopefully Ohio so I can just go to school here while doing it. Grad school. Yep.

Jobs are scarce. There is still talk of me nailing down a job with that producer in LA, which would be sweet, because then I could work from Ohio, and I'd be doing something I love. No benefits, but I could totally go to school while working it. Win win. Which reminds me, I'll call him today to see what's up. I think he's got a short film in production this month that I was invited to be on the set of, but due to financial woes I will no be able to. Yes, it IS a cool horror film. I wish I could check it out.

MONEY, for god sakes, people. MONEY.

Well, back to this project I'm working on/taking "breaks" to look for jobs.

Maybe a full update later, complete with my awesome sense of humor.

WARMING UP

A lot has happened since we last danced, blog, but I want to focus on writing. So here's a brief list of all that happened:

- Driving

- Girlfriend

- Philadelphia

- Golf

- 4th of July

- Bachelor's Party

- Wedding

- Grandma's 80th Birthday

- Puppy Visit

- Driving

- Girlfriend Leaving

- Golf

There. That's about it. All of it was good.

Now, writing.

Didn't do any. That list is devoid of it.

It's my turn for a deadline on the Secret Project, and I'll be working on that next. Blog is first, blog is warm up. Then after the SP, I'll move on to the script that has been hell of neglected by me, and I'll try and take some weight off Mike's shoulders. At least I've read what he's written. That's a start.

Oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit. I lied. I did do a bit of writing while I was gone, and it ties into what I want to pontificate on tonight. I wrote a speech, for the wedding, as one of the best men.

Public speaking is horrifying. I was talking to my cousin at my Gma's birthday party and he threw out a staggering statistic that more people think that public speaking is scarier than death than the other way around. People would rather die than have to speak in front of people. I blame technology... and that speaking in front of people is a literal evil.

I knew I had wanted to talk about us as friends, our group, instead of focus specifically on Skip and Emily. This was a risk, and the internet told me not to do this. It was their day, after all, and I should be focused on them. I just really wanted to get to the point of how much the groom's side of the wedding party loved Skip, and that even after everything we've been through, that it didn't mean shit in the face of us still being friends like we used to be. In a way, reassuring him that nothing was really going to change now that he's married.

This, my friends, is the UNEDITED, not-note card version of the speech that I wrote. A lot of it was kept in, but I did cut stuff out and reword things. I will try to remember and mark what I changed:

Hi there – sorry to interrupt any scintillating conversations that might have been going on, but I’ve been told a few speeches are in order, and that because I’m a best man I’m require—I mean--- lucky enough to take part.

Many of you don’t know me I’m sure, my name’s Brian, and I’ve known Skip for about 11 years. I’ve known Emily for much less, having met her only a few times because of distances and school, and that’s probably why I wasn’t chosen to be a maid of honor as well.

I wasn’t quite sure how to go about writing a wedding toast, so probably like every single other person giving a speech tonight, I googled it. All the websites claimed that I should walk the fine line between being delightfully charming and intensely funny, both things I probably have never been, regardless of what you’ve been told.

[If you look at this table of groomsmen and the groom, you will see a group of friends that has not changed at all in the decade we’ve known each other, no matter where in the country we have been hiding this whole time. I’ve always been told that I’m not supposed to talk about the bachelor party after it has been completed, but we are a different breed of friends, and there was a moment that I’d like to recall that sums up my point.] Taken out. Thought it was redundant.

Kyle, the other Best Man, began to tell me how much he loves how we as a group can just pick right back up where we left off. That’s it’s like we never went our separate ways. [I took this in for a moment and decided, yes, what with all the mountain dew and Super Mario Brothers we were playing it was as if this was just a normal weekend in 8^th grade.] Changed and reworded and reinserted later in the speech.

[And while writing this and recalling what Kyle had said, I was very pleased that I FINALLY had a segway into being able to talk about the glory days of middle school.] Reworded. We were all locked into the three year “smart kid” classes together, and we all had our categories. Isaac always seemed to have money, Jason could remember and quote Algebra books, I think, Brent read more books than were published those three years, and I was your average “heartthrob.” Skip, now Skip was the quiet one. [The doodler.] Kept his trapper keeper to himself and worked on his art. We cornered every kind of personality category in our group. We were the unstoppable Justice League of dance-going, button up shirt-wearing, afraid to ask girls to dance, cologne wearing boys and we ruled that school in eighth grade. Who were we to guess then that we’d conquer those fears of girls and be getting married someday. [Who would have guessed that that quiet artist of us would be the first to get on that train to marriage town?] Removed completely, and I regret it.

And then in 9^th grade, everything changed. Brent was the first to go. He moved on to St. Pete’s here in Mansfield, paving the way for Skip to meet Emily a few years down the road. I moved shortly after Brent. It wasn’t great, but it taught us early on how to deal with what would come in college anyway, and it made us mature and grow and realize that we had a different form of friendship, and that every time we would be together it very well could be just like 8^th grade all over again. Plus, like I said, it led to Skip meeting Emily.

Skip: I am, we are, honored to be here in your wedding as your friends and your family. Just because I didn’t bring up anything embarrassing about you tonight doesn’t mean I won’t later on. Watch yourself.

Emily: Take care of our dear friend when we’re not around. We know he will be the very best husband he can.

Please raise your glasses:

To this beautiful wedding and the parents who provided it and worked to raise the two wonderful and beautiful people married tonight.

And to Skip and Emily, I’m so honored to know you both. And I know I speak for the whole room when I say we wish you all the happiness and luck in the world. Congratulations.

I was told by being singled out by some people a few time afterwards that it was good. No, no just by my Girlfriend or my Dad. And that was a bizarre feeling for me. I'll tell you why it was weird and a shock to hear that I had done well: The night before, I started to panic. I thought that everything I had written was lame and that my jokes sucked The Big One. I was afraid that I hadn't talked about Skip enough, let alone Emily. But I think that the main reason I was worried was that it was the first time outside of school that I had to creatively write something specifically to be read aloud.

Now, I guess everything should probably sound decent read aloud if it's good, but I hadn't ever thought of that when writing short stories and the such (other than dialogue). How was I to cue myself to read it a certain way, what way did I want to read it? Would I sound stupid? Is the language pretty or just plain stupid?

Not only that, but I'm not even remotely the most confident when it comes to things that I've written that aren't to be read aloud. Let alone confident in front of a hundred people. Strangers. Their eyes fixated on me, ready to stab my neck and face if I say something that falls flat. Those horrible, judging people. *shudder*

By the time I was transferring and doing last minute panic-induced editing to note cards, it was too late to write a new, less lame speech in my mind. I couldn't wing it, that would have been bad for me. No, I had to say, "Oh well" and be aware of the cards burning in my jacket pocket the whole day. There wasn't anything I told myself to be reassuring. No "it'll be okay" or "they don't know you, so fuck them and their thoughts" or "come on dude, 'marriage town' will absolutely kill." I just had to go through with it. And hey, it didn't turn out so bad. People laughed where I wanted them to, I wasn't shaking very noticeably, and I got through it. Everyone liked it, and it was a very cool feeling...

... a feeling that will be forgotten and replaced with fear the next time I have to publicly speak again, I'm sure.

Okay. Warm up complete. Onto the SECRET PROJECT OF INFINITE COOL AND GENIUS.

New Posts

A flurry of new posts soon.

I took a break from writing to spend time with my girlfriend, family, and friends. A few of them even got married, so I was busy.

Right. Real update tomorrow night. Err. Tonight.

DEADLINES = ?

The haitus and joking around get an F.

I don't know what exactly has been going on with me, but I have not been writing at all. I'm sorry I tried to trick you with those Arthur comics.

I've been all out of sorts in a lot of areas in my life and I need to get back on track. I'm becoming complacent with doing nothing and living at home. It's complete bullshit, let me tell you. I think (hope?) I'm going through some sort of change, a metamorphosis, as a person and most importantly as a writer. You see, before now I had enjoyed a rather easy and fruitful time writing things. Some of it good, some of it will never see the light of day. The point is that I was getting shit done. And I know why.

Deadlines.

I was in school, loving the idea of becoming a writer, because school forced me to write and I loved every minute of it. I liked the pressure to create, to type and scribble. Now that I'm not in school, there are zero consequence to me not writing. Every once in a while I'll get irked reminders from my girlfriend or writing partners, but they know me, and I'm not getting graded, so I know they'll let it slide. They'll understand if I don't feel like writing today. Or tomorrow. Or for three weeks. I could set my own deadlines, but that works for a whopping 0% of the times I try to do it.

I have no willpower.

Does this mean I should have chosen another career path? One with security and all that bullshit?

NO.

It just means I have to grow a pair and change. Make the conscious effort to better some stuff. I have a whole laundry list of things that need changed about myself. It would probably be easier to do just one at a time, but what if they're all connected? Hard-wired into the socket of my withering self confidence and lack of motivation?

If I work out and go to the gym, I'll see changes and perhaps that confidence will bleed into my writing, or my search for work, or my hunt for a Grad School.

I could most definitely just interchange any one of those subjects, put a different one at the front, and that small spark of confidence just might shower through in the same way. So I think it's very possible to do it all at once, because I think it's a whole package. Me. I'm the package. Get it? I go without even one part to that package and I bleed all over the kitchen. Nobody likes that, especially my dinner guests. They (and I) would prefer that I not mess up the linoleum.

I just have to start mopping and put that plug back in.

Easy, right?

NO.

I'll have to force myself at some point, and I'm going to start with writing. Know why? Because I love it. I can't live without it, and want to do it. So I'll start of doing that, because I enjoy it. I'll force myself to write a bit each day, and I'll feel good about myself. And if I feel good about myself, maybe I'll say, "Hey. I wrote that. Let's go RUN MILES."

I hope.

Point is, without deadlines on anything (be it health, writing, finding a job, or a grad school), it's easy to get lost in your own sloth. So, you gotta be your own prick of a professor threatening you with grades.

DEADLINES = B+/A- RANGE

INSPIRATION = ?

Inspiration comes in many forms.

For the past few days it has been coming in a blank-comic form, featuring the characters from Arthur:

See? See how fun that is? You can just add whatever you want her to say, and then she will get hit every time. You could have her pontificate on religion (click to make bigger):

Or just utter simple statements:

Any way you choose to do it, 99% of the time it will be hilarious.

... Dammit. If only I could work up the drive to write stuff that matters.

INSPIRATION = HILARITY SOMETIMES

THE URGE = ?

So I've been struggling to sit down and write for the past few days, including in this blog.

It was getting frustrating, let me tell you. I feel bad, because I'm STILL not up to optimum writing speed on the two collaborations I'm doing, and that just sucks for the writers I'm making shit up with.

But then I was at work. It's a small cube of an area, with bad air circulation and the constant annoyance of customers wanting me to do my job. Also, it was as hot as a pair of yak nuts. Anyway, I'm sitting there ignoring my life and reading On Writing, and suddenly after page and page of Stephen King pontificating and making me crack up, I realize that I'm in the mood to write. Itching, breathing, sweating creativity. I can't wait to get home. And then I have to clean a fucking popcorn machine.

Glamourous, I know. The point is, I realized that the urge to write comes in many forms, and for me it seems to always stem from reading or watching something. This isn't the only source of the Urge, but for some reason other people make me want to do stuff. It's like they push me without know, saying, "Hey, jerk. You've got some stuff floating in that grey matter of yours that could be read like you're reading mine now. Hell, I could be reading YOUR stuff some day. I could love it or hate it, but either way I would be reading it. The point is that you know you can do it. Like me. I did it. I'm cool. You know you want to be too."

So I need to start inundating myself with books and movies to keep me going. I apologize to those two guys, those magnificent writing partners; one of which reads this. Sorry. Please don't make me run myself through with a sword.

In other news, drowning in writer's block leads to a relapse in Halo. My skills are sharp. My grenades fly true. That's some good news I guess.

Right. Well. Maybe I'll update more later.

THE URGE = SOMETIMES COMES FROM ANOTHER'S PERSON'S BULLSHIT

[Hi.

I can't think of a topic to write about right now, but I wanted to write a little bit and see if it got me going.

I'm dragging my feet on all of my writing at the moment. I can't figure out why. Sorry to those I'm writing with. Not fair.

Can't think of anything. The title is "placeholder" because this isn't a real update.

:(

Maybe I'll write about scheduling later.

EDIT 1: Maybe I'll edit this throughout the day.

EDIT 2: Drag Me To Hell looks so rad to the maximum.]

TIME THAT HAS PASSED = ?

First off, thanks to Skip Hursh for making my sweet new title picture. Head over to his page to check out his sweet art skills.

Second off, I'm pretty livid about this whole Tucker Max at OSU thing. I just watched the video of the protest linked on Fark and I'm extremely proud of those who showed up to protest. You interrupted and everyone heard. Though it was never shut down, you guys did your best. Tucker Max is a terrible human being and I have no idea how he sleeps at night. (Did I see John Pate stand up and yell at one point? I hope so, that is so rad.)

____________________________

Right. On to other, more pleasant things.

Tonight I am going to be trudging through a bit of writing I've had a hard time getting around to, plus a little extra for a Producer in LA.

This is a part of that bit of writing, my blog, because I should update more often. I figure I'd start off with it as a way to get warmed up AND procrastinate. One stone. After this, I'll be writing mostly notes on Mike's script submission and my page or two of scriptage. I'll finish up with some technical writing for that Producer. Fun night. Good thing I've got a video chat going to keep me company. (Hi, Cass!)

So, I've started reading On Writing by Stephen King again, this time with more drive to finish it. I don't know what has sparked in me since the last time I tried, but it's going really fast now. I think I've probably matured as a writer to where I want to eat up anything and everything I can on the subject that isn't boring and pretentious. (He makes mention of another book right at the beginning that every writer should read. I'll nail that next.) Say what you will about Stephen King, the man has done a lot and has tremendous amounts of wisdom.

I hope someday I can be wise.

Also, I read Neil Gaiman's blog religiously, and found that in that link there is an awesome writer's POV on how a fan should feel when waiting for the next installment of a series. (Pretty much summed up as that the writer is "not your bitch.")

So these past few days of break from blogging has made me realize that to write, you should also read. A whole damn bunch.

- As I'm writing this I'm thinking about the technical writing I have to do and wondering, "Is it okay to be funny and colloquial?" Probably. I'll try it a few ways. -

Hmm. Let's see. Not only writing business has been going on, but other business as well. I've been working on a Best Man Speech (I guess that's writing, goddamn it.), and just got fitted for a Tuxedo for the same occasion. I'm really happy for both Skip and Emily. I just gotta keep myself from quoting Back to the Future as the opening lines in front of HUNDREDS OF ONLOOKERS.

I've mowed the lawn.

Man. I guess all I do is write. I'm okay with that.

So I guess I should do some writing. That and be constantly interrupted by the WOOT OFF going on.

Get used to the linking of things.

TIME THAT HAS PASSED = NOT WASTED... SOME OF IT AT LEAST.

CURRENT PROJECTS = ?

For those of you interested, I'm going to take the opportunity of this blog post to talk about stuff I'm writing and thinking about writing. Maybe it'll give me some inspiration along the way.

SCRIPT:

I'm currently engaged in a co-writing venture with a friend in Philadelphia. It's hard to do it long distance, and I find it a struggle creatively to brainstorm through instant messages. The trading off and on of written stuff isn't so bad, except it is hard to find time with both our schedules to promptly respond to one another. I should be reading and writing notes on the bit he's sent me right now.

- The script itself is an anti-hero story, reminiscent of Robin Hood and A History of Violence.
- Set in modern day, in and around a large city.
- The main character is a likable bad-guy, and he's a blast to write.
- It is being written with sequels in mind: hopefully, if we get it sold eventually and people like it, it will bloom into the trilogy as I've imagined it. The sequels and threads are written into the structure of the first installment, even if it goes nowhere. Just in case.

PROSE:

P1: One thing I've got solidly locked down is very early in it's development stages. We've got our seed idea and broad concept. Our characters, though, have yet to even be named. This project is a secret with a very definite deadline. I can't say any more for fear that the wrong people will catch wind.

I can say, however, that it is another collaboration. Different writer, and one I've been eager to work with since the beginning of my love affair with making shit up. Let's just say that they are hella rad and extremely talented. I'm lucky.

P2: I've got a ghost story haunting my head (huzzah!). I'm not sure how many projects I can take on, but this one just wont go into the light (zing!) and will probably have to be released soon. I'm thinking it will be a novella, if not a short. I think the character and the situation is extremely interesting (a closing down retirement home and it's final living inhabitant), so we'll see how much story flows out before I've finished doing them justice.

P3: A short that I started writing back in 2007 has resurfaced in my brain. I may have to do something about that as well. A bizarre tale about a group stuck on a subway car in a very unusual place.

OTHER:

I have an idea for a TV series. Love. Zombies. Dark Comedy.

MASTERPIECE:

At least I hope it will be. It will be my most serious attempt at something profound and meaningful through script. The timing isn't right for it, and I thought earlier this year that someone came out with a too similar of an idea for me to even keep it around. I have to write it though, because of a deep love for part of the inspiration: Blade Runner.


I'm a jerk for saying "masterpiece" and implying that I think it is one. Confidence is one thing, but that is just ridiculous. I only said that word because when I think "masterpiece" I think "greatest struggle towards the end result, and the only reason it was ever finished was because of some unchecked passion for it."

That begs the question, however, "Can a 'masterpiece' be accidental?"

Maybe I'll tackle that in the next episode.


CURRENT PROJECTS = SCRATCHING "LET US OUT" IN MORSE CODE ON THE WALLS OF MY BRAIN

... even though I don't know morse code.

HOW I SOUND = ?

Discussions, discussions.

For a writer, I sure do have a lot of discussions about the practice of it. It's approaching the one-to-one ratio, and that's no good. I don't want to cut back on the talking, so I should pump up the writing. DO instead of over-thinking. But, with more writing and less talking about it, where will I get ideas to blog?

Where I get the rest of my ideas: an albino leprechaun's pocket.

... I fear I've said too much. I hope the Brotherhood Alliance of Writers doesn't come after me for that one.

So I was talking with my cousin Corey (also a writer) today, and we were talking about self doubt and confidence in regards to writing.

When I'm writing, never once do I feel like I'm writing anything groundbreaking or up to professional par. In fact, it's a struggle to keep myself from quitting because I think I'm being So Lame. The same goes for reading it when it's finished: where I then proceed to edit the ever-loving-shit out of what I just slaved over. I was thinking about this earlier today, and brought it up to Corey. I'm happy to report that he at least has some idea of what I'm talking about. Then it hit me:

It's like hearing your own voice recorded, or seeing yourself in video. Something just sounds and looks weird about it, because we're all cooped up inside our own heads. Same with ideas and creativity. I get weirded out and really critical about what decides to push open the revolving door of my brain and forcibly conquer the page in front of me. It's unsettling, to say the least.

But then Corey mentioned his love for writing, about how he just really wanted to do it, because he loved it so much. The same goes for me. But that's only a portion of the reason why we write. Among other reasons, I write because I have a love/hate relationship with this gut feeling I get when I finally decide to say, "To Hell with this!" and pass it along to someone else to read. That horribly amazing queasy feeling of not knowing whether or not they're going to like it, and the finality of it being NOT YOURS ANYMORE is like crack and horse tranquilizer to me.

The reader, the audience, takes whatever they want or need from it, regardless of what I intend. I just hope they like it, are moved or entertained by it, read it the whole way through and just maybe realize that I loved that little freakin' baby up until I printed it's ass off. For the most part. Sometimes that baby gave me hell and just wouldn't shut up.

Writing is just an awkward, beautiful, thing that I can not stop myself from doing.

I've got 3 projects going right now, 2 that are on a deadline (kind of, one for sure.) The script I'm working on at the moment NEEDS to be worked on, and I plan on doing so this evening.

Not only that but I have about three other projects that people have given me to read and look over. I feel like such a douche for not reading them immediately, but things come up and I have to be in a mood for certain genre. My apologies to them, they will get done.

HOW I SOUND = NOT HOW I THINK I DO. OR SOMETHING.

EDIT: Upon screwing around, I ended up following my own blog over there ->

I'm not that self centered. I can't figure out how to undo it or block myself from looking stupid.

Blogging = ?

So.

This blog is a spur of the moment idea that bloomed from a conversation I just had with a friend about becoming "stuck" even when you've got some dreams. Aspirations that are put on hold due to any number of reasons: routine, comfort, lack of drive, doing what generations before has have done but That Has Worked Out So It Must Be Okay.

Specifically, we were talking about the idea of going to bars as a young twenty somethings. I disagree with the concept of it, because I feel it's a waste of life and experience to do the same thing that millions of facebook pictures tell you that millions of other people do. He claims that what's different in his case is that he's enjoying it as a place holder until he moves on. I argue that's how it originally got it's start, probably.

I brought up the "allegory of the cave" and how we should feel like the enlightened soul released and recaptured. Me especially, he's still got the city at his fingertips. Me, I've gone to school in a major city, and held internships in another, only to return home and live with my parents. It's now a year since I've returned, and I have no "real" job and the year has not made me any closer to what I want to do. Still, I refuse to just sink in to whatever else other people are doing at my age. The things that get them stuck into the lives that their parents had before them. I'm not saying their parents are terrible or a waste, I'm just saying just because they did it doesn't mean you have to. You don't have to have the same life as them, even accidentally.

So I feel stuck, but less stuck. I'm not official yet, and I won't be. And I won't let my friend back in Philly be either. I will grab him by the collar when my time comes, and drag him out of obscurity.

At least I hope to not be obscure for so long. So much is up in the air when you want to be a writer.

So I start this blog. I will be blogging like countless others, perhaps a new generation's way of becoming stuck.

Could I say stuck a little more?

Okay. Down to specifics.

This Blog:

Mainly about the journey of writing and the observations that flow forth from wanting to be a maker-upper for a living.

Sometimes about ideas and pontifications.

Mostly about my mind.

Hopefully a little about yours.

I'll update again eventually. I have a hard time doing things without a deadline, so we'll see how long this lasts. My other blog didn't last very long and degenerated into a place where I could post sophomoric pictures and laugh at them. I also have a wonderful girlfriend that I love, and she thankfully takes up time, and that time spent could never ever be a waste. She makes being stuck not so bad, even if she's a few hours away.

BLOGGING = SERIOUS BUSINESS.