Friday’s Theme Music

I’ve been head-streaming this off and on for the last few days. Fragile by Yes was an album we frequently listened to in art class. I always enjoyed the silent communion among students as we listened to rock music and worked on art projects. This song, “Long Distance Runaround,” grew on my consciousness, first because of the unique sounds they employed in the song, but then the lyrics drew me in. It’s progressive seventies rock at its finest.

 

Pulling Threads Together

When I finished writing yesterday, I’d completed another chapter. Now I had three chapters that needed to be pulled together. Each was a thread that seemed unrelated to the others, even though I knew they were related.

Walking along, I thought about that writing process. I’d envisioned something happening to these characters, gone down several side trails (creating the three threads) and now had to tie them together to return to the original story line. I thought about how much of my writing seems like problem solving, and things I’ve done all my life, from solving math problems in school to logic problems done for pleasure, personnel issues because I’d become a manger, on to difficult business cases that required me to find, compile, and analyze data using spreadsheets.

I’ve heard people say that they wrote something but didn’t finish it, because they didn’t know what to do next. Resolving those things shouldn’t stop us, if we’re writers. We dig more deeply, searching for ways to finish the story we’re telling. How we get to that point that we find a way varies. I walk and noodle, and sometimes read other books. Reading fiction often seems to open another door in my mind. It’s a fresh reminder of the importance of reading if you’re writing. Reading stimulates my imagination and creativity.

While I walked and thought, I recognized that I was also intimidated. I was afraid of making a mistake, tying the three together. It’s a major moment in this series.

That amused me, since I knew that what I wrote when I write like crazy is rarely the finished product. I make mistakes, and correct them, trying to improve the story and how I’m telling it. But I also realized that I was over-analyzing what was going on, a regular problem I have with myself for everything from deciding what to order on a menu to, well, writing a novel.

I also laughed at myself because I thought, a million words written, and it seems like a million more to go. It staggered me to think that these four novels plus the support documents for this series added up to over a million words. It didn’t seem like a million words, but I never thought about the sum total when I wrote them. I just wrote, word by word, and it all came together.

It reminded me, too, of walking to get somewhere, and stopping partway through the journey because I’m hot, sweaty, and tired, and realized, I’ve come so far, but there’s more to go. So I pause, look around, accept that I have to walk on to get anywhere, and continue on the path that I began to follow.

So, deep breaths, I told myself. Just sit down, have some coffee, and write. I’ve written a million words; what’s a million more?

Okay, I’ve had the coffee, and I’m sitting down. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

The Golden Egg Dream

I started out with a dream about eggs. Not surprising, given that Easter is soon. Coloring eggs was an entertaining annual experience when I was a child. We always had a big bowl of colored hard-boiled eggs for Easter.

But my dream eggs weren’t colored. I was looking for eggs, first in the kitchen refrigerator, which was an old, white Kelvinator model. Not finding the eggs in the refrigerator, I went out a side door to where I knew there was supposed to be a chicken coop.

I stepped out onto a small porch painted gray and went down rickety steps to a green hillside. Cumulonimbus clouds were mounding against a blue sky, partially obscuring the sun. A strong wind was blowing, whipping my jacket around me. People on the dream’s periphery were trying to draw my attention to other things going on. They had somewhere they wanted to go. It seemed like they were back in the house. Exasperated, I kept telling them, “Just a minute, I’m looking for eggs.” I was becoming angrier as they kept heckling me, refusing to be patient as I searched for eggs.

Entering a sagging chicken coop made of old graying lumber (I’ve never been in a chicken coop in my life), I finally saw some eggs, and then I saw a dusty half-hidden egg. It looked like gold. Disbelieving, I picked it up. Amazingly heavy, it taxed my strength. I had to use two hands to hold it. Wiping the dust away by rubbing the egg against my shirt, I confirmed, yep, it’s gold. The more I polished it, the shinier it became. As heavy as it was, I thought, it has to be solid. I couldn’t imagine anything being inside of it.

Unsure whether I should, I took the egg out to show the others. It was sunnier, but colder and windier outside. Nobody else was out there and the house was silent. I realized the others were gone. The dream ended with me standing alone by the chicken coop holding a golden egg. I awoke feeling isolated and alone.

Thursday’s Theme Music

Today’s theme song, “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” began streaming into me as felines catgregated around me wherever I went. The lyrics are repetitive – “I want you, I want you so bad” (perfect lyrics for the cats as they follow, waiting for me to sit so they can sit on my feet or jump on my lap) – but I enjoy the song’s tempo changes and the variations on how “I want you” is sung.

Catgregate

Catgregate (catfinition) – felines gathering in a mass.

In use: “After he rose from bed and emptied his bowels, noisy felines catgregated and then followed him toward the feeding area.”

Episodic, Hyperlink, Mash-up

I’m enjoying writing the Incomplete States series. I have worried about its structure and my style, until I came across the term hyperlink used to describe a form of novel.

Eureka! That lifted my bloody spirits. Until then, I was cringing over the shape and my methodology. People won’t like this, I told myself even as I answered, so fucking what, and acknowledged, you can’t please every reader, and reminded myself, I’m writing for myself as a reader first, and this is what I like.

I really like how the first volume’s beta version emerged, and I’m happy with the third volume. Number four is in progress and is coming along well.

A sharp reader will noticed that I skipped over number two. Volume two was the first one written. As Thomas Weaver noted in comments to me during some of my postings, most writers start out in the middle. That’s certainly what I usually do, and I did with this concept. I was definitely walking across a dark and unfamiliar room when I began writing it. It ends up as the most complex of the four volumes, with the greatest aspects of hyperlinks. Therefore, it worries me the most. But when I read and review it, I don’t come across anything that I want to change. An outside editor might have another view of that. Hell, come on, we know they will.

It’s not something to worry about now. Right now I’m giddy with satisfaction over my progress.

Guess what time it is? Yep, got my coffee. It’s time to write like fucking crazy, at least one more time.

One Fine Morning

It’s my survival philosophy to avoid other people, wild animals, fires, and other natural disasters. But I’m a fucking voyeur. I heard sounds, looked for them, and started watching.

I was on top of a mall. The malls have been pillaged, and more than a few were kissed with fire and destruction, a natural target representing the corporations and greed that people blamed for the collapse. The malls that survived are often like little town-forts. This one was a little bit of collapsed ruin and town-fort. Bowie and I went to the roof for a few days of rest and recon before resuming our road trip.

It was on our third and final day when we heard the noises. The noises were coming from the mall’s eastern parking lot. Most of the noise came from a female source and could best be described as screams and pleas. That’s probably what prompted Bowie and I to take a look.

Bowie said, “Woof.” I said, “Yeah, I know.” Bowie believes in protecting others. He’s a big, gracious beast, with a lot more manners and empathy than me.

“Woof,” Bowie said with a firmer, sharper intonation.

“I hear you,” I said, “but you know our policy.”

Bowie growled.

Employing my binoculars, I watched the scene and listened to the noise. Clearly, these four men had grabbed this female, who looked like a sixteen-year-old, and planned to rape her. She was fighting back. From their laughing and gestures, they seemed to think her cries and fighting were comical.

“Woof,” Bowie said again. He looked at me.

“All right, all right. I know I’m going to regret this.”

Unslinging my Waxman, I brought up the scanner. The five bodies below were found. I targeted all of them and then deselected the girl. Two seconds of debate were embraced as my mind hovered over kill or sedate? Being a compassionate idiot, I chose the latter, pushed the button, and released the fledges. They went with a sporting hiss and struck within a few seconds.

Down went the four. Hooray for my side. Relieved from being hit and raped, the girl scrambled to get the hell out of there.

“Our work here is done, Bowie,” I said. The tranqs would keep those four down for about twenty to thirty minutes, depending on a lot of factors. I figured the clock was running. “Time for us to exit Dodge.”

“Woof,” Bowie said.

Hearing a shout from another part of the parking lot, I whirled. Someone had seen me. Hello, shit. The Waxman was employed again. But then, there were others out there looking up and pointing. Some pointed with hands and fingers. Others used weapons. Arrows flew toward me. The pop-pop of automatic weapons followed.

None reached me but now the roof was a dangerous fucking island. “Let’s go, Bowie,” I said. “Let’s make like a bandit, and git.” Bowie, being smarter than me, was already on the move for the path we’d used to come up.

We had to move fucking fast. Folks might be stupid in this raw, new world, but someone would say, “How’d he get up there?” Someone else would know that we used the pile of junk stacked against the mall’s entrance by Bed, Bath and Beyond.

Leaving precious stuff behind, Bowie and I ran hard. I was ruing my intervention because of the stuff I was leaving behind, but, come on, civilization had already collapsed too much. I wasn’t going to countenance more collapse by sitting idly by while men raped a girl. If death was what I had to pay for my noble stupidity, c’est la vie.

Bowie and I made it down the rickety pile of wreckage but shooting arrived as we reached the bottom. Grabbing Bowie, I hauled myself back behind a line of scorched, toppled refrigerators as rounds made discordant sounds on the junk. Looking through a gap between the fridges, I saw a charging mob. I fired the Waxman and realized it remained on sedative. That was about all the time I had because noises behind me revealed that I’d been outflanked. Another mob was charging my position from the rear.

“Take them alive,” an ugly blond woman shouted.

Should have killed them all, I thought as Bowie launched himself, and then a shit-storm hit, and it all went black.

I apparently lived. I awoke in a silent pool of sunshine. But, as a corollary piece of the environment, I was on a bed and the sunshine was streaming in through a window. The window was above a petite tan sofa. Looked like leather. Sitting up to color in more, I found Bowie beside me on the bed. Good, I thought, but then had to deal with a headache that attacked when I sat up. Sitting up had not been a good idea.

Alas, I’m a stubborn shit (my mother was a stubborn shit, and my father was a stubborn shit, to paraphrase some Richard Pryor lines in Stir Crazy), so I didn’t lay down or do anything to appease my pain. Bowie was bandaged in several places but awoke at my touch, releasing me from a dread that he was dead.

I – we – was – were – on some elevated bed in a small room. The sunshine came through a window to my left. All I saw were sun and clouds. I jumped down off the bed, a movement that required me to pay a toll of dizziness. Bowie was up and wanted down, so, teeth grit, I helped him to the floor. He immediately sank down to rest on the blue carpet.

That’s what I should have done, but that window attracted me. I crossed to it and looked out, confirming, yep, I was in something that was airborne. It was pretty impressive. I’d flown back in the days when we’d had the means. I’d never been on any aircraft that was this smooth and quiet. I’d never been on anything, including car, train, and boat, so smooth and quiet.

I stared out the window for several more minutes, mostly because it let me minimize my movement, which assuaged my headache, but also because I was curious about our airborne location. I could see a shore and water, and buildings in various states. I’m not an expert but I don’t think we were higher than a few thousand feet. We weren’t moving fast, not even as fast as a jet on final. After satisfying my headache, I checked on Bowie, confirming he still lived, and looked around more.

There was a television, Keurig, and small refrigerator and microwave. I also found a pocket door. Behind it was a shitter, sink, and mirror. The mirror showed my familiar, weathered mug, matted hair, and thick beard. It also showed some cuts and scabs. Feeling my head as I checked my reflection, I found a knot behind my right ear. It was tender and wet, so I kept touching it and wincing from pain, because I’m stupid like that.

Satisfied that I’d been hurt, I resumed my room inspection and saw a second pocket door. I tugged on it. It remained closed.

“Well, this turned out to be a fine morning,” I said. I knocked on the locked door. “Hello. Anybody out there? Nod if you can hear me.”

I didn’t expect anything to happen. It didn’t. You’d think I’d be happy because I was right, but I wasn’t.

Nothing to do but chill and wait. My patience and willingness to accept whatever happened is probably what’s kept me alive. The frig had Jarlsberg cheese and Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. I opened a bottle of the second and took the package of the first with me to the sofa.

There was no use in starving and staying sober while I waited. Not if I could help it.

Floof mob

Floof mob (catfinition) – a clowder of cats summoned by a sound or movement to a designated location to perform an indicated action before dispersing.

In use: “As soon as the can’s lid was pulled back, a talkative floof-mob encircled his legs, with each putting forward their reasons for why they should be fed first.”

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