Today’s Theme Music

1976 was an enjoyable year for the most part. Twenty years old, I celebrated my first year of marriage, and my second year in the U.S. Air Force, and then was sent to Clark Air Base and the 3rd Tactical Fighter Wing in the Philippines on unaccompanied assignment. I ended up listening to a lot of music while reading in my room when I was studying for my promotion, walking around the base, exploring Angelis City, or working. I didn’t have a television, and besides, AFRTS’ offerings were well-meaning but not to my taste.

A friend introduced me to an Irish rock band name Thin Lizzy. She was a big fan of this group that I’d never heard before. One of the songs was “The Boys Are Back in Town,” partly because she incessantly played it, enthusing about the singer’s style. I just liked it because I thought it was a rocking tune.

 

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Eugene Said

Today’s Writing #106

The confluence of two events created an excellent writing day.

One, the coffee shop was busy.

Two, Philea seized control.

Maybe due to the Ashland International Film Festival (AIFF), or maybe because of the cold spring rains and chilly weather, the coffee shop was busy when I arrived. I found a table but no outlet for my laptop’s powerpack. Well, I decided, I’d take what I could and write. If a table with an outlet came open, I’d seize it.

Sharply aware of my HP Envy’s short time on battery, I ordered myself to be focused. There was no worry there, because Philea had taken over.

Philea is one of my series’ main characters. I mentioned the other day that I dreamed five muses rode in on horses. One dismounted and transformed into a character, becoming Philea, a character introduced to me when I began writing the second volume of this quadrilogy back in 2016.

Philea has been center-stage since the night of her appearance in my dream. Going back to a previous post about her from January, 2017, reminded me of how strong and independent she is as a character. As before, she didn’t have any stage fright today, but strode out into the action, introducing a quickly realized rich setting, a new character, and greater background information on this leg of her journey.

The bottom line of this confluence: I ended up writing three thousand words in less than fifty-five minutes. There was a lot more in the tank at that point. Philea knew exactly where she was taking me. “I need to stop,” I told her when the computer issued a warning. Half of my coffee remained in the cup.

“No problem,” Philea replied. “I’ll be waiting here tomorrow.”

I hope she doesn’t stand me up. Fantastic day of writing like crazy. I hope every writer has the chance to experience such days.

The TV Dream

Last night’s vivid dream placed me as a minor actor on a science-fiction television series. The show runner came in and made big announcements that we needed to create a special, kick-ass show. He was running around with hyperbolic enthusiasm that spread like kudzu.

I decided I would be part of that. Seeing him crossing a broad, carpeted room, I intercepted him and regaled him about my desire to be a part of creating this special show. He said with broad puzzlement, “Who are you?” I explained I was a minor character actor on the show but that I had ideas for it and wanted to write. Then I told him some of my ideas.

It was enough that he didn’t shrug me off or chase me out. Nor did he endorse me. But I accepted that I was now part of the writing and production team. They were having an off-site. Finding out where it was, I crashed the site.

The place was chaos. Groups were entrenched around tables. Food was being served on a buffet table. The head writer and creator was walking around talking to people, but he wasn’t talking about the show. None of them were, as far as I could tell. I circled around the tables, looking for an opening to join. A few people knew me and chatted with me. A couple even introduced me to others.

Sometimes the groups would get up and move around. Each time this happened, I thought, here we go, now maybe we’ll start. But, no. They just resettled and continued chatting. Then, weirdly to me, it looked like they were breaking for lunch. They hadn’t done anything, in my opinion. By then I felt like an outcast and was dejected by their lack of direction and energy. I decided to leave.

Some who knew me saw me leaving and started talking to me, trying to convince me not to go, but I’d made up my mind. This was clearly not my scene. I’d go elsewhere.

Leaving required me to walk up a steep hill to a pedestrian bridge. The pedestrian bridge spanned eight lanes of traffic. Businesses like restaurants, stores, and gas station  bordered both sides of the road. I could see a long way from here.

Some of the people from the show caught up.  Several tried to engage me. I didn’t put them off, but I wasn’t interested in their entreaties. From the top of the hill by the pedestrian bridge, I looked for where I needed to go. It seemed like miles way. I would need to walk. The sun was hot, and the traffic rushing below increased the heat. Finding my destination, I resigned myself to a long way, and began making my way.

 

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