I’m reading the third novel in the Dire Earth series by Jason Hough. Like most books that I read, I research the author. I’m curious about who they are.

I liked what I learned about Jason Hough and his writing. The first novel in the series, The Darwin Elevator, was a NaNoWriMo effort in 2008. He didn’t finish it in 2008, though, but kept writing, and found publication for it in 2013. That’s persistence.

Others did it, too, like the author of Water for Elephants, Sara Gruen, Hugh Howey, who wrote Wool, and Erin Morgenstern, author of The Night Circus. Their books were all the results of NaNoWriMo efforts. They didn’t always finish in one November, or in one year. That’s the point: they kept going.

Persistence is invaluable for a writer. Let your vision flow, and let it carry the words. Becoming side-tracked isn’t a problem, as long as you come back and continue. Time isn’t a problem, either; just keep going as the days, months, and years lap you. Endure your self-doubts, and then put them aside and write.

Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.


When you start chasing butterflies, stalking spiders, and trying to catch house flies, you may have been around cats too much, and might need to take a break from their presence.

This is also true if you get excited when you hear food being opened, or if you try to get into a room when someone else is in there and have closed the door.

Dreams of Change

Last night’s dreams were all about change. Of what I remember, one was a vignette where I made coin change for people, including my wife and other family members. Another sequence featured me searching for and trying to change my clothes, which originally were white and light gray, and then trying to change my shoes. That moved into me trying to change the cat kibble, and being totally confused about what I was doing and why I was doing it. An additional series had me helping others change things. In one, I helped my father and friends trying to change a tire.

They’re laughable in the morning light. I realized that each scene and story shared elements.

  1. I was confused about what I was doing and why I was doing it.
  2. In the end, nothing that I set about changing required changed.

It was amazing. I’d make change for peoples’ dollars, and then they’d discover that they had the right change and didn’t need anything. They’d thank me and move on, leaving me standing there with change. The tire that we were trying to change was okay, just a little low on air, giving us a laugh. My clothes were the best choice, so I ended up not changing them, and the people with the other clothes suggestion left, and the cat kibble bowls were full, and the cats were eating them, so, confused, I realized, nothing was required of me.

Hmm, I wonder what message I’m trying to convey to myself with this night of cryptic dreams?


Floofstead (catfinition) – a cat’s territory and its adjoining location; a place a cat claims by its presence.

In use: “The door was open, so in true floofstead fashion, the tiny diluted calico walked in, completed an inspection circuit, and then settled down for a nap on a chair, establishing that this was her place.”

Spider Update

We thought a black widow spider had started homesteading (websteading?) in the master bath. We go through these drills a few times per year. Per the household spider policy, I tried capturing it without clearly seeing it. The spider successfully retreated.

I haven’t seen it since that day. My guess is that it saw me naked and departed for somewhere else. After all, they’re more afraid of us than we are of them.

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Blame this one on my wife.

Which had me thinking of how couples and families related and socialized through different eras. Thinking back, imagine them gathered around a fire in a cave or a camp. Imagine them in chairs on a porch, or around a radio, and later, gathered in the living room, watching television. Now we’re gathered in the office, on separate computers.

I was playing Sudoku when she played “Seasons of Love” from Rent. Naturally, the song’s lyrics entered my stream and started looping. All through yesterday’s walking and yard-working, I’m singing, “Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
Five hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear. Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes. How do you measure, measure a year? In daylights? In sunsets? In midnights? In cups of coffee? In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife?”

I also added/slashed modified the verses. After coffee, I added, “In words? In pages? In kibble? In phases?”

It became a little goofy after that. But, I must pass this on to you to rid myself of it.

Sorry about that.

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