Wallet and Keys

For a brief moment I forgot I placed my wallet and keys in my book bag, and was walking around carefree. It was only after I was in the middle of returning a cart to another department that I realized I didn’t have the wallet on me, or my keys, so I panicked.

How was I gonna eat, or get back into my home without either. I sincerely hope I didn’t drop  them.  Then it downed on me that neither was lost, but in my book bag. A few moments later, they were back with me. I felt safe again.  If this isn’t a basis for a story, well, then I’m doing something wrong. At least I got a sense of relief.

I almost feel like getting a latte, however, I won’t be getting one.  That’s a story for another day.  For the moment I just want to back in the glow that I didn’t forget or lose my wallet and keys.

Happy creative endeavors.


Monday, Not Cranky

Sometimes I have to be grateful for little victories. I sometimes get up and am crank the whole day. Today I woke up, did what had to be done, and now I’m awake with no signs of being highly irritated. That alone feels great.

That said I was a LAZY writer over the weekend. I lived to distract, procrastinate, and have time for family. Decided maybe, just maybe might be time for an RPG game because playing MOBAs has stressed me.

When playing with people, they either work together, or they fall apart as a team. After a few matches that turned into hot messes, I had enough. None of that made me want to write though.  I embarrass myself.

I’ve also been in an online class to write better for TV. Typing my notes gave me an opportunity to review what I was processing, and I rethought the spec pilot fantasy script I wrote a while back. For clarity, I wrote a pilot and two additional episodes.  HATED the first episode, and rewrote parts of it extensively.

The second was tossed and rewritten, and I liked the third.  It seems I worked my way up to a likable spot. Still, I need to look at this and see if I can make it work. I enjoyed writing, it was that I was inadequately able to give the material the polish it needs.

Writing is very much a long, long road. Yet, I never want to give it up, or not try to make better stories.

Happy creative endeavors.

I Need A Distraction

This distraction needs to be a writing task. For some reason I feel I am so far off track with ideas and can’t get myself together. Perhaps it’s time to start a new screenplay or script for a comic to get my mind off my current project.

So this will get my gears going and help me focus on something that’s productive since I can’t get this novel to gel the way I need to.  Screenplays I can get done and focus on.  I feel like a mess right now.

Something’s stressing me out, and I need it to go away ASAP. This means looking at what’s going on.  Time to start a day journal and see where my time goes. It may be that I’ve gamed too much and now I’m bored that I’m not gaming.  Life is more than games, despite the fun they are.  Games ain’t paying my bills, nor is it 100% fulfilling me.

If it were a job though. I wonder how good I’d be.  LOL

Happy creative endeavors.

Revisions (Part 2 of 3)

This is my second pass at revising the dialog for the scene/story. I wanted something a bit more abrasive, and less agreeable between the two characters (Timothy and Felix).

I didn’t format it properly, as I knew if I liked it, I would add it to Word (from my Notes app) and adjust it.

It’s essentially the exchange between Timothy and Felix, so I know its two characters.

Timothy watched Felix apply the solution to the glyphs.  It looked shinier, and he appreciated that glow.  Timothy stood back after the last coat and admired the glow.

T: Nice job, Felix.

F: Thank you, Mr. Guthrie. I’ve already cleaned the benches, good sir.  Don’t want you messing up those fancy clothes of yours.

Nonsense. I’m more curious as to your new solution.

F: Pay it no mind. Just boring new regulations.

T: “They’re facts, Felix,” He said, “and facts are never boring.”

F: Then the amount of bird dropping per square inch on a plaque is right up your alley…sir?

T: No. That is not up my alley. I insist you tell me what are you using clean our glyphs in our town.

F:  Why that’s classified, sir.

T: Classified? With taxpayers money? Really? Does this sparkle orange concoction have a proven track record with maintaining a secure protection from rogue magic?” It could do more far more harm than good.

*he waited for a response. None came.

T: You know if the wards don’t work, we’ll be in a world of pain.

F: Your bench, sir.  It’s gonna get taken.

T: Rest assured, I’m contacting the mayor.

F: Be my guest, sir.

Revisions (Part 1 of 3)

Hello all,

A fellow poster asked about my revisions for my novel, and I decided to post a small section of it. I’ll start with the original draft of this scene, then the subsequent revisions (I made two additional ones).

Please keep in mind that the post is  genre fiction  and contains elements of urban fantasy and bizarro. Also the description is OK to me, what I worked on was the exchange at the end, but for the sake of posting, I needed to give people context.

As always, happy creative endeavors.

Nutbush was a sleepy town with little to do, but maintain its peace.  The homes were simple, clean, and neatly manicured. The people were decent, pleasant enough, and always made sure their public glyphs and wards were clean. They put them on statues, posts, sidewalks, and walls.

Nutbush boasted cobblestone streets, gaslight lampposts, and steam-powered cars. The residents adored their throwback aesthetics, and that flow of the city presented a sort of background noise people either tuned out, or appreciated as part of the charm.  They were also proud of their wards and glyphs carved deep into lovely plaques throughout the town. It kept the rogue magic away and seemingly too many tourists who enjoyed the aesthetics of the town.

Within the park, a few joggers ran the path of the square, as others passed by in cars, tooting their horn from time to time, only to earn stares from everyone for being so damn noisy.  They hailed each other with smiles as thy passed each other.

Timothy Guthrie strolled through the square as he typically did, well-dressed and with the local paper under his arm.  He spotted Felix wiping down the square’s wards with a damp cloth from a bucket of water and orange-glittery substance.  As Felix wiped the park’s glyphs and the orange glitter dissolved into the plaques. He slathered a healthy portion onto the plague under the statue of Beauregard Clemmings, town founder.

“How are you doing today?” Timothy asked.

“The usual,” Felix responded. “Cleaning our good wards”

“Have they been tested recently? They look clean and all, but how potent are they?”

“You know the mayor. Less tests means less red tape, and budgetary expenses.”

Timothy laughed. “That fool’s gonna kill us one day with his cheapness.”



A Comfort Zone

When it comes to my art, I find that I am the one limiting myself more than any outside voice ever could. I remember when I feared rejection as an undergrad and kept trying in visual and written art. I remember when my visual skills failed to excite people in MFA programs, and if you don’t follow academic formulas, it can be soul crushing. It WAS soul crushing. I did less and less visual art.

Writing I’ve done since a child. I’ve always wanted to soak up more writing and reading. I always have more to learn, and I keep working at it, despite any setbacks. I’ll be damned if if I let someone tell me I can’t pursue a path I set for myself. I remember when my screenwriting skills were rejected for an MFA program. It was soul crushing then, but I never stopped writing, and I took more classes.

I have a built-in comfort zone which screams, “I have self-imposed rules too keep me apologetic.” More and more, I’m finding I don’t want to apologize when it comes to art and decisions. I don’t need to explain every nuance, and I sure don’t need anyone to tell me how to think or feel. What doesn’t meet academic heights doesn’t mean I’ve failed, or fallen.

Where is this desire to be free of all constraints and looking back coming from? More writing. The more I write stories, the harder I try to complete stories.I want to explore new directions, subject matter, emotions, and scenarios.  Taking a workshop, learning new ways of writing, and trying even harder to put together a pitch for and complete a novel has me thinking how to improve at my craft. Seeing myself as the artist is the first step.

So, for all those who read this, if your path is blocked, know that you will find a way to your goals if you truly want them.

I should do more visual art and if it don’t fit, it don’t fit. I love it though.

As always happy creative endeavors.

Thursday is a Good Day

Today is a nice day. The weather is a bit on the verge of the storm with the sun hiding. Were this winter, I think this would be dreary weather. So long as it isn’t that dreaded southeastern heat and humidity is not too bad for me.  I like to start the day with some writing. Blogging is writing. Writing is good.

Speaking of writing, I feel very blessed that I have a friend I was able to send the first act of my script to read.  My belief is that if you get the first act written well, then you’re good.  This friend really doesn’t like to sugarcoat what’s wrong with a script. If it doesn’t make sense, it gets called out for being wrong. She asks all the right questions.

At this point, I’ve put my ego aside to hear what’s not working, and fix what needs fixing. While I wait for feedback, it’s time to write something else. Revise a project, read a book. Do something.  There are a couple of short stories I’d like to make a dent in.

Happy creative endeavors.