Special Edition add-on
This one is for Mike in FLA,,, Since the bugger can’t hear me when I tell him, NO about giving donations,,, I figured I had better come up with a little sumpin’ for the Mad Bugger.
Special edition podcast, no politics, absolutely NO politics in this’un.
prelude,,,Bad vibes.
driving back to the shop from the jobsite (job done!!! fini!! Complete,,, WoooF!!!!) passed by a tractor trailer combo, but the name on the truck clicked something out of a Matt Bracken book. AMERO,,,
Now, those that haven’t read Matt will need an explanation,,
In his Enemies trilogy, the north American countries, USA, Canada and Mexico joined up similar to the Europeans and formed a financial UNION,,, conglomerating all currency into the Amero, or sometimes refered to as “North American Dollar” “NADS,,,”; which I thought was a quite appropriate term. Gonna take some nads to pull that sort of shit with the European countries in dire straits.
And I wouldn’t put it past this set of administrations, what with Puddin’ head Joe, the puppet, Turdboy Castro, and while I don’t know the name of the current Mexican Prez, I have read some headlines that indicate he is left of center: maybe not full on Marxist, but only slightly right of Lenin,, And the Mexican.Gov would have incentive to hope for this since tying all of the currencies together would lift theirs up.
How would they do it. Zeros!!! say $1000 dollars NOW, would Equal ONE NAD,, Suddenly the debts are back into the Billions instead of TRILLIONS and MOST PEOPLE wouldn’t do the math enough to know its just a ‘magic trick’,,,
Its just an illusion. Same as our fiat money is now. The only thing floating fiat bucks is consumer confidence, and that is getting pummeled like a Mike Tyson spouse.
Think Zimbabwe
Think Weimar Republic (which we are far closer to than many realize).
And if you think the change would be a benefit to those on fixed incomes, like SSI,,,, How does getting a monthly check for $12 sound? (using the dollar symbol for NAD in this case), or $1.20 They would address current debts the same way they ‘eliminated’ Trillion dollar deficits, by slashing the zeros,,,
Only one group is going to prosper if they do this,,, This is the sort of thing that Soros made his wealth on,
Is this “The Plan”,,, Dunno, way above my paygrade, but I have this suspicion that we may soon find out. and if so,,,,,
BOHICA,,,,
UPDATE: worst scenario, they ADD zeros instead.
anywhoos, if either aspect comes to pass, you know full well who will and who won’t be affected by it. And it will be written into whatever legistlation that the ones ‘makeing the law’ will be the absolutely least effected,,,,
apologies for such a downer post,,, Bad vibes are some of the hardest to shake. t
slow start morning and a memory
Its the beginning of my weekend and I like to take it easy getting going. Have found if I start in a huff, things get expensive and with the way prices are, that doesn’t take much.
But I woke slow and was dwelling on a memory of my past. There was a kid I grew up with that was the seed of my thoughts, though what those thought centered on was “Value” and perceptions; Personal perceptions specifically. See, this kid was a die-hard comix collector. He would buy two copies of every X-men comic and all of the various spinoffs. One was for reading, the other would be bagged and tagged and stored in a footlocker. After he had read the one ‘for reading’ IT would be bagged, tagged and stored in another footlocker (he had his “A” books and “B” books and each was labeled as such) Now, that may not seem like a bad thing and it wasn’t: when he went to go to college, he used that second footlocker as collateral for the student loans. The entire footlocker appraised at well over 20K, and that was his “B” books.
But it was a concept I could never understand. I don’t know if its the way I was raised, or just that I don’t attach a monetary value to every single thing in my life. I see value beyond a price tag. Like with Books: yeah, they cost a certain amount of cash to get, and thats expected, but what do they HOLD inside. I’ll use “The Hunger Games” for now. Entertainment, 5 stars. But there is far more in those books than just entertainment: there are mirrors held up to look at the world from different perspectives, allowing the reader to see things in new light. They pull back the curtains hiding the ugly side of people, even the good ones. She mentions frequently that at some point, the decision to kill an ally is going to be forced on Katniss. That may be an extreme point, but there are actions that every one has to make that are not optimal, and that was one way of showing it.
Even as entertainment, there are lessons to be learned. I don’t recall many of the ones from those comix, but I am certain that they are hidden inside, even as I could bet that some of those lessons are closer to indoctrination of Marxist ways. (said indoctrination is insidious and has been quite dominant for decades). But the Value is far more than just some arbitrary monetary value assigned by some accountant. And there are some that are absolutely valueless (IMO) for lack of anything other than escapism, which has some value all its own. Me personally, I want to read about the thoughts in the heads of the protagonist, see how other people think when the shit’s hitting the fan, even if its fantastic and somewhat unbelievable, it may have kernel of truth that gives me options later down the road when I am in some fucked up situation.
Even in books like “The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy” there are lessons. The various races of aliens are mirrors to differnt mental states of people and how Arthur Dent bounces his way through the Galaxy like a pinball with no control of direction is analogy to how most people live their lives.
Those books have much more value to me than the price tag, and I have copies of them all, and NONE are ‘bagged and tagged’ awaiting some assayer to attribute some monetary value to them. They are all dog eared and torn covers (all but the hardbacks, and those may be missing the outer sleeve, but they tend to be better kept then the paperbacks.).
And every time I move, my ‘friends’ go with me, and take up far more space than my personal effects. (and those boxes are HEAVY!!!). Only one time did I not take all my friends with me, and that was when I split from my last GF and I have been slowly replacing those lost friends over the last fifteen years. It wasn’t an easy decision to make either, let me tell you. But the situation dictated I needed to ’empty my cup’. (and I have picked up quite a few new ones along the way as well as old ones that were waylaid.)
And its not just books. One of the reasons I would probably not make a good business owner is how I see the value of people. I would have a hard time assigning a ‘wage’ to someone, and some people would be given next to nothing (because the bring next to nothing to the table) or so high that I would go bankrupt (because those are the people that actually build your business for you.). And of course, there are all the regulations and Minimum Wage laws, and now, here. locally, demand that certain federal/state fees MUST be accounted for before you can work within city limits. (Workmans Comp payments must be shown or you can’t work as a contractor. EVEN IF, you have never had a workmans comp claim laid against you,,, EVEN IF, you are solo contractor without employees,,,, ).
IMO,That last is an example of “Value perception”. and just how skewed the value can become when Government gets its paws involved.
But I digress. Maybe I have more than a little bit of poet in me, since I see value in things far deeper and richer than just ‘Money”. I see experience as far more valuable and being able to get experience through the words of others, via book, spoken word, or in modern ways, in video, holds more value to me than just the price tag assigned. (and look at how much experience Rittenhouse and the latest Defender gained through FPS vid-games. Maybe it looks like a game, but that level of expertise in shooting, that has career operators applauding, is astounding. Those games hold more value than I formerly suspected.)
So, what brought up this memory? I heard that when my friends dad had died, he had his dads library ‘bagged and tagged’ and sold it piece-meal through EvilBay. I recall that library and those books and just how large it was ( all four walls of the basement, ceiling to floor and several stacks of boxes full). I wouldn’t be surprised if he had multiple copies of every single early release of Heinlein (and I know he had them all the way to “Friday”, because that was my introduction to Heinlein, and I picked it up from his library.). I can garan-danged-tee you that said friend NEVER read a single book in that library. No pictures, so they held zero interest to him and were only worth, to him, what someone else was willing to pay for them.
I don’t get that. I guess I never will.
And I am okay with that.
Straits of Meh!
So here we are, The Good Ship Dio’s Workshop, aground, rudder fouled and rigging shot through by ScamDemic fallout. First Mate Voodoo is running about 30% both physically and mentally, and the passengers, Grumpykat and her boys, are wondering when we are going to hit a good port of call, not this barren mess they see off the bow. The WindGenny (called J.O.B.) is moving enough electrons to keep the bilge pumps running so the lower holds aren’t flooding, but not much more. We may be aground, but we are not sunk, so there is still hope of better to come.(and the corollary of that: could get a shit ton worse, but we’ll strive for the better.)
TIme for Cap’n Dio to strike out land-bound and get a lay of the area, maybe see if any of the charts we have on hand match what I see. Currently I am looking at a peak on this shoreline; a peak I am calling mount WTF!!! and I will head there to get a better view horizon to horizon. Maybe there is a way off this rock yet.
We all make choices, some times those choices work for us, other times against. Some of my choices, solid when made, did not hold up to current events or the black swan of a purpose made virus and the gullibility of sheep. Nor were my choices made with the idea that maybe, the federal government would make the same stupid fricking mistakes it made in the 1920s and collapse an economy. If you aren’t feeling it yet, stick around, you will. While I knew the economy was tanking, I missed the ‘slowly, then all at once’ aspects of things. And I admit, I floundered in the good times of Trumps economy. When I should have been sticking to my guns, I started playing a bit more than I should have.
Went to a local grocery store, one where I am a regular and have a decent rapport with the manager. They were in the middle of a floor renovation this last week. Took out one entire row of shelving, split the remaining rows in half and ‘added’ a middle walkway through them. I asked what was going on (this is not a big place) and was told, byt a regional type working there at the time ; “we’re remodeling to bring the store up to date”. Talked to the manager as I was leaving and her response was “they cut the shelving down to make it look like we have more stuff. Too many products we can’t get anymore.”
Think this is going to wrap up with some Selection cycle? I think not.
I personally think this is just the top of the hill and that the snow is still falling while the ice shelf below the snow is creaking frightfully. I haven’t paid much attention to what the markets are doing the last month or so, but I would say that they look a lot more shaky than that ‘To Infinity and beyond” shit they have been doing since 2008.
Choices. I have some choices to make and sooner than later. You all know one of them and that one keeps getting put off; I won’t go into details of that right now. Another choice is to take one of the several offers I always have laying around, but there is that ‘grass is greener’ thing, that is never the case. One master traded for a different master is still being owned by someone else. And that is where my angst with all of this is laying. I don’t WANT another J.O.B.
I’m getting a view, and looking for some landmarks to shoot an azimuth for: Figure out just where the hell I am currently. Maybe I can get something to make sense on the Straits of Meh.
___________________________________________________________________
I wrote the above yesterday afternoon, and scheduled it. Between then and what you are reading now, I chanced upon this post by Sarah at the Mad Genius Club. This is her group of fellow writers and a hella resource for up-n-coming writers (such as meself) so may not be for everyday reading for most peeps, but is on my daily check out. With all the fun and games of fouled rudders and no bearings on upside-down charts, I missed this post the other day.
Let me face one fact, right up front: My problem right now is as simple as this: Depression. Yup, I’m feeling more than a touch depressed right now, between Dawg, finances, and lack of relief by kayak/camaraderie of friends, I hit my slump. What really tipped the scales was seeing my tax documents for the year,,,,, No need to share that figure, but it was quite a bit lower than I expected, to the tune of ten grand lower.
Soooooo,,,,,, I read Sarahs “Be the unicorn” and sat back and thought about things a bit. She’s right!!! In my mind, (and it’s something I work hard against) I am so flipping average as to be flat boring. Its a self image thing, one reinforced over decades by some that would have me be ‘just that!”. High school counselors, some of my teachers, a few acquaintances that I thought were friends, all fed the self-image that I am not worth the mould that God made for me.
*cough* Look out on your porch at those kayaks YOU built, Dio. Look on that book shefl where the books YOU wrote are sitting, Look at the ‘me wall'(I can’t, its in boxes still) with pictures and backstage passes from all the years touring with ‘rockstars’. Look at the White House Communications Citations from 2004,,,,,,,,,,
No, I am not average, no matter what my self-image is. I may not be that wildly successful person that my Da wants of me, but, DAMMIT, I’ve done shit,,,, DO SHIT, that ‘average’ people only dream of. (and thats part of why I don’t want a J.O.B. I have enough skills and talents that I should be able to make my own way without the ‘one good day job’.). And with the writing thing, I may be way behind on ‘paying my dues’, I am quite aware of that, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t ways to make it pay SOMETHING, in the meantime. I am no Terry Pratchett, nor Heinlein, but I can spin a tale, and get people to forget about things around them for just a few minutes. Thats not ‘nothing‘.
Still, I need to get my bearings. Things are changing in the world, in my world, and seriously, after seeing that W2 for 2021,,,,, No, that shit can’t stand. I did ‘alright’ seeing how I am not buried in debt, but that level of income does not bode well for moving forward either. As I stated above, the J.O.B. has been keeping the bilge dry, but sure isn’t powering the radar or GPS or the radio in the Goodship Dio’s Workshop.
NO, This is NOT a bleg for donations. If you feel the need to support me in anyway, buy some of my books and give them out. I would much rather that than someone sending me ‘sympathy monies’. (Sarah had a special case and as many donators said, they were just returning the favor of good work provided non-gratis, previously. I know I am not in that boat, yet. )
I’ll be working on that ‘getting my bearings’ for a bit-while yet; I don’t jump just because it looks good; I like a certain amount of insurance/assurance as well. (and no, OhioGuy, the lottery ticket DIDN’T Pan out, or this depression would be kicked like a bad habit.). I’ll keep posting, just wanted y’all to know that I ‘feel better’ now. Knowing is half the battle, Right GIJoe?
The sanctuary. FICTION
“Your aren’t getting it” he pleads to me, looking stern and plaintive at the same time.
“I hear you but it isn’t making any sense. You’re saying that I am now a dead man, but I feel quite alive.”
“Oh, you’re dead alright, just by being here and talking to me, your fate was sealed, and that of your family. By the time this interview is over, your immediate family will have been killed with a substitute body for you, and there will be a pre-written investigation given to the news outlets. Your life is already written off the books of history.”
“Seriously? You are NOT that important in the world.”
He sighs and mumbles ‘he still isn’t hearing me.’ and some other less printable words. “Look, they granted this interview so that I can pass on what I know. I know my time is short, and they, like most despots in history, want someone kept close to keep the secrets, know where the bodies are buried, and to have someone to confide in, in utter confidence that the confession never sees the light of the public eye.” He grabs a glass from the table between us and pours some amber colored liquid tnto it. He does not offer me anything. He continues,” you are going to be my replacement and you had better listen close. There are things I don’t remember, and why I know my time is short, but the Gist: engraved in my soul. When you finally hear it and understand it, it will be burned into your soul as well. And you will NEVER be allowed to leave this sanctuary they made for us.”
“Why me, of all the reporters in the world, why did they choose me? I’m a nobody in the great wide world.”
“because you are that nobody. Makes killing you that much easier and no one will question the story. You fade into history as a footnote at best, all the while you will live out your days here, knowing that thing that they don’t wish loosed upon the world. You are the Cobalt rod in the reactor to keep things operating smoothly, and you are the confidant they need. Or I should say you will be, If you pass the tests. If not, they bury you in the grave they already planted a corpse in, and no one is the wiser, and I keep giving interviews until they find what they want.”
This is the part that confuses me. I have no idea how I was given this interview: my editor called me in and said I needed to come here and interview the ‘most important man in the world’ but I was given no name. Even my edttor was ‘off’ and it seemed like he was saying things and not knowing where they were coming from. It appeared he was trying to see his own lips while the words were coming out, like he didn’t know his mouth had a mind of its own. Now, here I am, and I don’t even know where here is, I don’t recall driving here: I was in the editors office, then I was here, and I have no idea if there was travel time, or if I just ‘materialized” here.
I don’t like gaps in details like that. I’m a reporter, not a fiction writer, but the last hour or so feels so broken and scattered that I feel like I’m in a story.
As for this “most important man in the world”, he mostly looks like a drunk that has seen too many bottles of Maddog pass by. He’s in fine physical shape; no old age paunch, good tone to the muscles exposed by his shirt, but that face,,, Its the face of someone that has seen way too much with no relief of that view. His face alone makes me curious as to what he knows that is so important that some group would be willing to do what he says they have done. Maybe I am the dead man walking now: I doubt it, but with the last hour or so, there is a crack in my doubt. I have to play the bluff through or I feel I will never leave here at all.
“How many interviews have you given already” I ask, hoping to change the subject. His resolve that I am a deadman is giving me a small anxiety.
“You are number six. They have started increasing the interviews so I know I haven’t much longer. You are being tested right now, to see if you are compatible with our hosts: You probably feel a bit anxious right now, don’t you?: he asks, not waiting for me to answer,”Thats the probes they use on us: they tingle our gabons and it translate to the physical as anxiousness, or worse, nausea.”
“If I feel nauseous, thats bad: is that what you are saying?”
“You aren’t are you?” He asks with concern
“No, but I am feeling anxious. Anxious to end this interview, and get back to work. I was told you are the ‘most important man in the world” but other than the grounds here, I see nothing to back up that statement. I don’t recognize your face, I have never heard your name in common conversation, other than as a by-line like “John or Jane Doe”. Mr Smith, You don’t stirke me as very much of a person that would bear that titile of importance.” I have to hit the facts as bald faced as I can. I have a feeling that anything less will get me nowhere with this personage before me.
He observes me for several moments, sipping that strange liquid. It doesn’t look like any alcohol I have ever seen, the open bottle it came from is not giving any trace of smell that I can detect, and it looks almost viscous in nature, almost the thickness of but not quite the same color as Olive oil. He sips again, then returns the glass to the table. “You are absolutely correct that I am no one you have ever seen or heard of. My name isn’t important as far as the world is concerned since by record I have been dead since 1958. My family was ‘erased’ when I came here, and our hosts started telling me things. I almost feel like the reason they started talking was out of guilt. Like they feel lessened by the things they do to our world.”
“Hosts? What hosts? “
“ I guess you passed at least one of their tests, so maybe I need to backup and tell you a few things that will make the rest a little easier to swallow. First part, I was in Roswell New Mexico when the first crash was brought in. We saved one of the occupants, and then found out that we had intercepted something way bigger than just extraterrestrial life. WAY BIGGER!”
I start jotting notes as he starts opening up. Dead in 58, have to dig into that one. Roswell NM, everyone knows something went down there and may still be going on in the area, but its mostly crazed nut-jobs and UFO hunters these days. No one takes it seriously. And it maybe that I am dealing with one now, but I still have questions about “How” I came to be here,,,
He carries on while I scrabble out my chicken-scratch notes,”We thought we had an alien, but they are no more alien to this world than we are, maybe less so. The ones we shot out of the sky are the keepers, and work for our hosts. I have never physically met our hosts, and. have reasons to believe its physically impossible. I’ll get back to that after I explain some other things. That we were able to shoot one down caught the keepers flat-footed and they. were chastised by the hosts for it. It showed they were losing control of their charges.”
“You say hosts, and keepers. can you explain what you mean there?”
“First thing you need to understand, The Earth is not the rock we think of it as. This rock circling the sun is special, has been modified by the hosts to accommodate their designs. We are exclusive in the universe on that note. Our scientists keep looking for analogs of our rock, and while they find them, they find zero intelligent life of any meaning. WE were designed to live here, and no other, and that is why our hosts keep mucking up our efforts to travel beyond our world. They let us look, but they will never allow us to roam.”
“Huh? Wait a sec! You lost me just now. You are saying what, that we are not alone? That there really is intelligence outside of our solar system?”
“Yes. And if you think we are intelligent, you are in for one hell of a surprise. Our hosts are way more intelligent, and far more advanced in so many ways that we look like amoeba in comparison. The Hosts are from between the galaxies, where the dark matter is. I have to believe they are actually made of darkmatter and dark energy, not really physical at all. Even our watchers, keepers, tenders, whatever you want to call them, are not much more intelligent than we are, though they operate at a higher function level than we do, so appear more intelligent.”
“What do you mean higher function level?”
“In a word; Simple. In truth, strange to us. They don’t occupy one body, they operate across several bodies and can even swap bodies as needed if one is lacking a certain skill or knowledge. You’ll be meeting one or two yet, but it will take you awhile to realize that you are only dealing with one or two, not the dozens of bodies you will encounter. Maybe the term bodies is incorrect, more like a terminal or interface. You might even say the body is nothing more than a tool that the sentient being uses to accomplish a goal. “
“So a Hive mind type of thing?” I ask, but my thinking is closer to ‘this is one of those crazy UFO people;
“I asked the same thing and would have been laughed at, if they had a sense of humor. Maybe they do, but its not one I would recognize as such. No, the response to that question was more that of educating a slow learning child. They explained hive mind is many minds and bodies all interconnected, where they are.individual minds spread out over many bodies. And they do have different personalities: some are very helpful, others are strictly ‘do the job, don’t ask questions’ types.
“You said that the Hosts keep us here, yet we have been to the moon, right? I have to assume that this is real, and that we did actually step foot on the moon.”
“Oh, yes, we did reach the moon, we did send out several probes around the solar system and beyond, but that is as much as they are ever going to allow us to do. They cull our better minds that could develop the means to escape this prison we have been made for,,,”
“wait as sec, you just said “Escape this prison WE WERE MADE FOR. Expand on that please, Seems like you left out a lot of information about something.”
“I said I was going to get back around to that, I guess now is as good as later. WE, the Homo Sapiens of this planet, and I don’t give a rats ass what you breed is, and please don’t say ‘race’; it belittles us. No, we, as a species have been created, fostered and groomed, the same way a botanist will groom a special plant or flower. We are livestock to the host, and the keepers are our guides, culling a bad line here, or nurturing a specific trait there.”
“If what you are saying is true, what the heck are they trying to nurture? It seems like the world has been one of strife and turmoil for ages, and we never seem to learn anything new other than technology. And that tends to just make the strife and turmoil even worse.”
He takes another sip from his glass, looks at me with sadness. “You missed the key question there and shot right on by to your assumptions. What are they TRYING to nurture? Obviously its not food, or we would have an entirely different world established for us; more like a cattle pen, than a nursery. What they are nurturing is our souls. And no, I don’t understand what the end goal is. Maybe this is like Childhoods End by Clarke, they are trying to evolve us to a higher state of being. Maybe its more like what we do with apples, splice in crab apples to make the sweeter apples better, more robust. I don’t know. What I do know, or at least so I am told, is that our souls keep getting recycled back onto this planet for their purposes, Our souls are the key purpose of our living on this rock, isolated from teh rest of the galaxies and all the beings that are a part of that. We are extremely isolated and protected, and I can’t say that the protection is ‘for us’ or ‘from us’. I’ve also been told, and if you are selected as my replacement you will as well; that they aren’t satisfied with what they are seeing yet. That may turn out to be a bad thing, like it was for the Sauro-sapiens.”
“Who?”
“The Dinosaurs. Some of them were quite intelligent and part of the very same nursery we are on, but that experiment failed and they were wiped out to make way for us.” He grows rather quiet, and I hit a wall of what to ask after that last wild statement. My earlier feeling of ‘some crazy person’ just pegged the meter in my mind.
He sits for several minutes with his eyes closed; I am only certain he is not asleep or dead by his breathing patterns. My mind awhirl trying to figure out what question to ask next, or make a break for the tree-line in the distance and hope I can figure out where in the hell on the planet I am. That ‘suddenly being here’ thing is still troubling me.
“Lex says that you are still in doubt. I can understand that. Finding out that everything you were ever taught is complete bullshit takes quite awhile to get over. I think I finally accepted it in the late seventies, when the American Government started reversing course on a perfectly good Space program. I saw the hands of the hosts at work there. All the reasons they gave were shallow and empty, but the real story was we were being told to stop trying to climb out of the crib. Again, I don’t know if the protection is for or from us. I suspect its from us: like you said, we are a troublesome lot that never learns a damned thing.
“Who is Lex? I ask, looking around for that moment to break and run. My anxiety levels are peaking.
He waves a hand in a direction and I look there. What I see makes my eyes bug. I have seen pictures of them, but never ever thought they were real, This one is very real, standing roughly 8 feet tall, appears slender to the point of structural failure, but the one thing that catches my eye first is the color of the skin. Not quite pink, definitely not the grey scale my mind had attributed to them, more a mauve tint. The eyes, large, dark and seemingly bottomless, no pupil to be seen, cat-eye in slant. The creature nods to me, and I hear in my head, “Running is not an option, you are not on planet earth, what you see is all there is to this place.”
“Yeah, I maybe should have told you that. We are supposedly in the Alpha Centuri cluster on a modified asteroid. Even if you ran, you would be right back here in 2 minutes: its a small rock.”
My heart starts racing, this entire day has NOT happened, this is just a dream, and I likely drank way too much everclear at that party. Couple that with Ghost pepper dipping sauce and Habenero hot wings,,,
“Alex, you need to relax, or you are going to fail your last test.” Mr Smith of the crazy UFOians tells me. The creature named Lex (not its real name, but our minds don’t extend to those syllables or thought frequencies) nods in agreement: a very human gesture it had to pick up from Mr Smith.
Gasping, my anxiety reaching threshold, “And what is that last test?”
“If you can drink this,” he says as he hands me a glass of that amber liquid that looks more like vegetable oil now that I can see it better.”You’ll see into my mind and won’t doubt anymore. You’ll feel all the memories I have intact still, as if they were your own. If you survive that, You take my place and I ‘go away’.”
Such ominous words that sound so innocent, “Go away?”
“My soul is ready to break free, and I am being held here until I am replaced. I’ll just ‘go away’ and you will be here with Lex.
No other options, I reach out for the glass and drink,,,,
Story lines
It’s pretty obvious to everybody these days that the story writer of our times is either suffering from multiple personality disorder or rapidly deteriorating into dementia with bi-polar disorder to boot. Or, as in my Dads take: Has a really twisted sense of humor,,,
Try to work up a tagline to describe the world at large currently and you end up with a garbled mess that would drive any potential reader away like holy water on a vampire.
These are the things I am learning about writing, and I use current events to practice my development. Yeah, I don’t choose easy subjects,,,
But that exercise has exposed so many issues with the current book in my quiver. Yup, its a first and I did hit publish, but successful? Um, not so much. It hits good with a handful of people, but the tech side of things is what drives most away. As a former girlfriend would have told me, “where’s the skin?’”. She was very much a Sex sells and more sex sells more, kind of advertiser.(lots of fun, but she wasn’t so much a candle burning at both ends as a section of lit cannon fuse.). I have been trying to write a better tagline for Wings and flopping. And why? Because there is no resolution within the book. Its a series of scenes, an occasional conflict, but no real climax, or wrap-up. You live and learn, but the only way to truly learn is too fail, pick your butt back up and keep going. And that is where I am right now. Looking at a decent story weakly done and how to pick it back up and make it WORK. I will leave it live for the time being, but once I have things re-worked,,, And that rework is essential if I want to carry the story forward to a sequel. I have half of it written, but keep hitting issues with how the first book played out. I forget where I read it, but another pantser type writer says that he has to write an entire series in order to smooth out the details in all of it, before he hits the publish button, and the way Wings started, I can understand what he means. A new development in book two would work better written into book one, but causes turmoil in book three that doesn’t see resolution until book four,,,,, And the only way to make them work is to write it all out. And that is why I am trying to work on formatting the story first, so that I can avoid the tediousness of rewrite after rewrite after rewrite. Or maybe I should be like M.Lackey, develop the world, and write books as scenes within that world,,,(thats a very loose way of describing her work, but,,,)
I’m serious about wanting to write, Heck, I have been writing for a decade now, but not as a way of making it in the world, more as a therapy for the pressures building up from a world gone mad. But the ideas in my head,,, They don’t rest; they swirl, mingle and breed,,, And they talk, A LOT. Trust me on this when I say, even sitting alone in a field, I am NOT ALONE IN THE WORLD. There are lives and stories constantly playing behind the shutters of my eyelids. Wings was the one that was most persistent and wouldn’t rest. Dunno how many nights I spent writing where I would look up and the alarm was buzzing and I had to get ready for work, no sleep. A lot of that needed scraped up, cleaned up, and rewritten to fit, but there were nights where 50000 words flowed like water. I also need to work on action; I have lots of conversations, but little action. People want things to happen, not be talked to death.
And maybe I just need to get a kayak out for a day of leisurely paddling. Not boogie water, just silence and wildlife and no distractions of phone and internet. Then get back to work on the stories that linger in electron purgatory on my hard-drive.
Time to go to work, more laters
This from a ‘writing prompt’
Only it wasn’t intended to be one, I am certain.
Just sometimes I get to reading someone else’s point of view, and my mind goes Zoomms-zowieeees over the horizon with the muse.
Creativity is IT. I create on a daily basis. I have to, or I start going stir crazy. It may only be making a small jig to make my life easier at the welding table. It may be making a Kayak on my front porch in the dead of winter. I may be sketching out an idea for a tattoo, or that next jig I need to make my next whatchamacallit. I even made jigs for making my kayaks so that all those little holes that needed drilled could be done uniformly and I not destroy a rather pricey piece of wood.
Like Sarah, much of my creativity is sourced from a scarcity background. We didn’t have much, but when it came down to it, we had EVERYTHING we needed and the rest was stuff we ‘created’ to fill the voids. If we wanted something, the options were to work our tails off to earn the money to buy it, or work out tails off creating it. Most of the furniture in our house was stuff that my dad made in the shed out back, using cast off lumber from where he worked. Everything laminated up to make larger wider boards for table tops, or thicker legs to support he gargantuan “built to withstand a truck accident” furniture he preferred making. Some of it was really fantastic as well, like his end tables made from the trunks of Cedar trees. Split a trunk in half and it may become a bench seat, or crosscut the trunk for a ‘rounder’ shape with wild edges and mount that to a thinner trunk, inverted to use the branches as legs, for the base.
I learned how to cast metals to make things in need of longevity or higher wear functions. I learned to work metals so that I could utilize those skills of casting even further. I picked up a touch of blacksmithing so that I could shape metal without need of the machines to turn or cut it, and that led me to learning more about welding, and improved my Arc type welding even more. Before I started mixing sound full time, I worked as (many things,,,) a mechanic, and one of the guys I worked with and myself would critique each others welds. That improved my welds even more.
I’ve even made jewelry (SHOCK!!!!) but I tend to be more pragmatic in my creativity and prefer utilitarian stuff. (I may wear a wedding band, when/if I marry, but thats about it. No ‘glitz’ in my world, not even a watch.)
And that leads me to my writing. One of the commenters over there mentions how he found out that writing is WORK, and that his notion that his first book would have him sleeping on a bed of gold was shattered quite quickly.
As for the work thing? Oh yes, its work. Skull work. Marketing work, research work. You name it, there is WORK to be had in this field. And just like the entertainment field, there are 300000 writers to every 100 Best sellers. In live music, I have seen some truly incredible talents, but they missed one key element. WORK. They didn’t push the envelope of the work things and while they could play circles around other well known artists, they didn’t have the drive to push there.
Now, I am not saying I am exceptional, Hell, my current history says that I am of that same caliber; talented, but no drive. And it may be that this is the case. I didn’t write Wings for the money (though I won’t deny that money was a factor.). I wrote wings because something said, If I didn’t it would eat at my very soul until my mind folded like a wet noodle. And since I went so far as to actually write the danged thing, why NOT publish it too.
The fact that I had no clue what I was getting into is obvious to anyone that sees the end result. The fact that I had no clue about marketing or advertising, or promotion of written word (I can ‘produce’ entertainment and do all the marketing and advertising for live shows and HAVE, but books are a whole new world to me.)
Yeah, that stuff is obviously missing from that book. And I may end up re-editing it later for better layout, and when I do, promotions and marketing will be better laid out as well. And of course, the sequel is still stewing: half in my head, and half on my external hard drive. (Patience Bruce, it’s coming. And your persistence gets you dibs as a proofreader!! Mwahahaha!!!!). And I am no where near done writing. Wings opened up a pandoras box of creativity that had been stifled by time and misperceptions. Mostly my own, but some.external (Friggin high school counselors need filleted, baked and served to pigs, in my opinion.) My learning curve is still on the low left side of the bell curve, climbing towards center, and I have no illusions that I need mentorship. I am also quite aware that current situations in my life have a priority, and what I can squeeze in will have to suffice. I read,,,, Oh lord how much I read. If one of my vicarious mentors suggest a book about writing books, I make the purchase and dive in. If someone suggests a different program to assist the writer, (Vellum is one, Scrivener another, etc etc). I check ‘em out and start another aspect of the learning process. Scrivener was the program that helped me finalize Wings to the point where I felt comfortable hitting that publish button. And it works even better in the Mac.
What hangs me up is that marketing thing. I DESPISE crowds (funny coming from a guy that used to mix live music for Tens of thousands.)(note that FOH “front of house’ is usually smack dab in the middle of the room and has a whole lot of floor space and only a a couple of peeps in it. AND, I was usually the monitor guy, behind the curtains, on stage left usually, full view of the band but not of the crowds.).And this is where I really need the mentoring (and no, I am not going through the get rich quick scammers that promise you’ll be a best selling author in 90 days if you pay them $XXX and subscribe to their program. Maybe they do handle a ton of promotion for you, but the whole thing stinks to high heaven as scam to me. )
So, I learn the ropes the hard way, and maybe thats for the best. Rougher on the knuckles, but then, I have a couple of Degrees from the School of Hard Knocks and University of Bloody Knuckles.
And I continue to create, every day, SOMETHING, and it matters not what. A paragraph for a book here, a jig for making a rudder assembly there, or a blog post three times a day (if I can). There will be something created by my hands and mind and the day they cease to happen, its a good bet my heart has ceased as well.
Dio's Workshop 