Maybe I could write a story about an eighty year old hitman who…oh…wait

Yeah I’ve got absolutely nothing for this week.  And I’m still sick.  And I can’t think.

I had the day off today.  I got my haircut, ate reheated fried rice and slept through about ten of the eleven episodes of Monk that I were on my DVR.  Love that Tony Shalhoub.  Also, Captain Leland Stottlemeyer created my absolute favorite, “Where have I seen that guy before” moment for me a few years ago when I first started watching the show.  Obviously if you’ve never seen it then you have no idea what I’m talking about but if you have seen it then you can probably place Stottlemeyer’s sort of low pitched mumbly walrus voice which bothered me for weeks because I knew I had heard it somewhere and I didn’t want to IMBD it for some reason.  Anyway, the guy who plays Stottlemeyer also played Buffalo Bill in “Silence of the Lambs.”  The revelation was shocking.  I’m still waiting for the writers of Monk to craft a scene where he’s demanding that Monk puts some lotion into a basket for some reason.  Good stuff.

I’ve got nothing.  And my head isn’t working.

This could get ugly

I have nothing going on in my head due to sickness, so I’m going to complain about being sick for a bit. Or rather, I’m going to attempt to figure out why being sick makes writing so freakhog hard. Of course, trying to write about why writing is currently difficult is…confusing. Basically, I don’t feel that bad, but I have no imagination. I have no playfulness inside my head. I have no interior monologue. Actually, I have an interior monologue, but it’s talking to me like it’s embedded inside of a giant marshmallow. It’s very difficult to hear and even when it does get through all I receive are bland white descriptions of mushiness. And this is bad. Because coming up with a story is all about being playful, all about listening to my inner voice, all about taking in the world around me and screwing with it, all about solving a riddle in reverse. And my brain is currently capable of doing none of these things.
It’s getting to a point where I’m hoping that two people on the subway next to me will suddenly engage in a heartbreaking love story for the ages so I can just take that and slap it onto some paper and not have to work through this marshmallow.
Below is the short video, “George Lucas in Love,” which is a fun little take on how Lucas might have come up with the Star Wars universe. Some days I wish it actually happened like this:


So, I’m fairly out of it.  My head-cold is progressing and I don’t feel so bad, but my brain just isn’t working.  I hate being sick, mainly because I’m so not myself.  I just sort of wander around being confused.  Which, actually, sort of sounds like myself.  It’s just different.  Either you know or you don’t.  Earlier today I thought I was back in high-school.

All of this is fascinating, I’m sure, but my point is that, while it’s pretty easy for me to come up with stories in this state of mind, it’s very difficult to remember them five minutes later.  Also, the stories tend to be about jello monsters who come barging through my door (by the way, never get me started on NyQuil), and I’ve already written a story about a big blobular monster, so that’s out.

Point being, I’m nowhere.

Oh, you two-faced devil god!

The witty witty title of this post is in reference to Janus, the Roman god of doorways and the namesake for the month of January. Yes. He’s the god of doorways. There are some other things under his jurisdiction, but right now I hate him and his stupid month so that’s all he gets in my mind. Also, janitors are named after him. Suck it.

I’m sick. Again. This month started out with me being sick, then there was a middle part, then a family member was in the hospital, then I threw up all last weekend and once that passed I came down with a head-cold.

So this is for you, Janus. Go <BLEEP> your <BLEEP>ing <BLEEP> into a <BLEEP> with your stupid doorways and then <BLEEP> with a <BLEEP> until your stupid little month <BLEEP>s! You <BLEEP>ing <BLEEP>!

Sweet sixteen

The more of these stories I get through the more relaxed I am at the start of a new deadline. On the other hand I think my freak-outs at the end of the deadline are becoming more frantic. But still, with each new story there’s a stronger sense of possibility at the outset than with all the one’s before it. I can write about anything I want. This euphoric feeling will last until about Wednesday, at which point I’ll have to actually get to work and things will go crazy.

Also, back when I started this project, I talked a lot about not being able to throw away any ideas. Usually the first idea that came into my head had to be used because that’s what the deadline demanded. Since then I’ve learned that I have a teeny bit of wiggle room and I can toy with different ideas. However, I still don’t think I’ve gone with anything but my first idea yet. It turns out that my initial ideas are usually my strongest. They may not be my best, or my most interesting, but they’re the one’s that have enough meat and bones for me to build a story off of. The end result is usually very different from where I first think I’ll be headed, but it always seems to come out of my first idea.

Also also, here is a fantastic article about ketchup.


I forgot to put the “Click here to continue reading,” bar into that last story before it posted.  I corrected it as soon as I realized but for those of you reading along using Feed Readers I’m afraid I may have dropped a gigantic story-length post into your computers.  Sorry.  Unless you prefer that.  Some people don’t like to have to click back to the site to read a full post.  I really have no idea but my gut tells me that 6,000 word long stories aren’t generally welcome in Feed Readers.  I certainly found it to be a pain in the ass and hopefully that won’t be happening again.

Also, I realized a few days ago that the amount of rigmarole I’ve been putting at the head of stories has steadily increased.  Between pictures and the print-link and the copyright and any side comments it had gotten to be a little overwhelming.  So I took most of that down off of the old stories.  I kind of liked most of it, it felt like the title page before you got to the actual story, but with the web one needs to think more like a newspaper than a book when it comes to layout.  People don’t like to have to scroll down to see what they want.  So unless I find a really perfect picture (The Nighthawks is still at the top of “Private Showing”) I’m going to try to keep it as simple as possible.  Thus, less rigmarole.

Also, it’s fun to type rigmarole.

It has a title now. So there’s that much at least

Coming into a deadline, my Tuesday night/Wednesday morning posts are always a little batty.  Coming into a deadline before a Matthew and Epp story my posts should  be expected to be batty with a hint of drunken orangutan and a dash of hippopotamus with a glandular problem in heat.

These just keep getting more involved.  So far I’ve researched the history of sushi, Greek gods, Malaysian landmarks, Italian shipping, and I’ve had a world clock open during the entire writing of this story as well as a weather guide for three different continents.

It’s been odd.

The sound you’re hearing is my head banging against my desk.

Lord, what hath I wrought?  It seemed like such a small thing to start tying together some of these stories so that they’d all combine to make one larger book.  Seemed so easy.  But I’ve never done anything remotely close to what I’m trying to do with the Matthew and Epp stories.  For starters I would have waited a little more until I had a more fleshed out idea of where it was going before I started to write this as a book.  And second, it’s not like, when I do write books, I write one chapter and then go off and write two unrelated short stories, then come back and write another chapter.  Which is what I’m doing here.  It’s awful strange.

I find myself charging ahead for a couple of stories, then stopping to catch my breath and figure out what the hell is going on for a story.  Then charging ahead again.  So I feel like I wind up with place holder/looking back stories.  Which I guess isn’t so bad but it feels strange.   And maybe none of this makes sense to you and all the stories seem to be of the same ilk.  I don’t know.  Maybe I’m just worn out.  This hasn’t been such a good month for this project.

No matter.  Back to work.

Not much to say.

I was out of town for the last few days with a small family emergency.  Everything is fine now but of course my schedule got all kinds of messed up.  I thought I’d be so much farther along in this week’s story than I am right now.  Although, considering I’ve basically got nothing, I’m not sure how I could have envisioned being less further along.

I was looking forward to the chance to take my time with this chunk of Matthew and Epp but it’s going to be a scramble as it always seems to be.  I’m just getting back into my groove here so I don’t have much to say, just wanted to explain why I stopped posting in the middle of last week.

For, in the end, it is the road that crosses you.



For some reason I find this picture inspirational. The rooster just looks so unwavering as he stands there being a rooster.

So I still haven’t figured out the middle of this week’s story. As I’ve mentioned, I’ve got the beginning and I’ve got the end but it’d probably be for the best if I figured out some words to say in between. That’s as good a description of what I do as I’ve ever heard. I figure out what words are supposed to go in between.

There’s the beginning, there’s the end, and then there’s the rooster standing stoically in the middle. Let the chickens do what they will, this guy will never cross the road…nor will he return to your side.

I have less than nothing to write about today if you haven’t noticed.  I’m going to go do some journal writing and hope the in between parts start to come together.