Floofumbra

Floofumbra (floofinition) – a housepet that shadows you from a short distance.

In use: “The little Corgi was a floofumbra, following him from space to space in the house, but stopping at the entries to watch and guard him from across the room.”

April Showers 1921

I wrote about a new novel that came to me in a dream the other night (“Spinning Up”). One unmentioned aspect was the newly conceived novel’s cover. I saw it in the dream. The cover felt and looked so real and substantial to me that I was nonplussed. The title, April Showers 1921, was embossed gold letters on a silver cover. It seemed so real that I looked up the title to determine if that book already existed. Without surprise, I found songs, books, and short stories called April Showers, but none had the 1921 addition, and none featured silver and gold covers. I seem safe with it.

I’ve worked on April Showers 1921 some since dreaming about it, fleshing out characters, setting, and writing some scenes, but I didn’t throw myself into it. After two days of that, I wondered, why not? I realized that indecision caused by my greatest weakness, over-analysis, was paralyzing me once again.

It’s a familiar scenario. I overthink something. That drains my resources, and I stop making progress until I resolve what I’m overthinking.

Naturally, this paralysis is all founded on a writing issue, specifically — this time — finding an agent for the Incomplete States series. I think I’ve identified several potential agents. I narrowed my search to one lucky agent. I’ve written a synopsis and query letter. That’s where I stopped.

The Incomplete States series employs several styles. In terms of recent books, it reminds me of Cloud Atlas. My series science-fiction infused, but its mostly literary, except the first novel has a science-fiction military noir feel to it. Fantasy flares strong in another book, while yet another has the sensibility of historic fiction.

Yes, I enjoy genre B&B – bending and blending – whether I’m reading or writing it.

On a side note, the great and all-knowing Internet says, don’t mention any of the rest of the series when seeking representation and publication of the first book.

For grins, I hunted down the rejection records for successful writers. I’ve followed this path before, so it’s very familiar to me.

J.K. Rowling. Her Harry Potter series was rejected twelve times, you know. Dr. Suess was rejected twenty-seven times before he found a publisher willing to take a chance on his Cat in the Hat book. The author of  The Martian, Andy Weir, had given up on being published, but kept writing and self-published. When The Martian found success, publishers came running. Kathryn Stockett, The Help, was rejected over sixty times. Madeleine L’Engle, A Wrinkle in Time, had twenty-six rejections. Catch-22, Joseph Heller, twenty-two rejections. Twenty for William Goldberg, The Lord of the Flies. Carrie, by Stephen King, was rejected thirty times. Pretty amazing was that Still Alice, by Lisa Genova, experienced over one hundred rejections. After she self-published and had success, publishers came calling, and her novel was made into a movie starring Julianne Moore, who won an Oscar for her performance.

There was also Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita, over five times, and Robert Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, rejected one hundred twenty-one times.

Reading about these rejections is invigorating and inspiring. You gotta have hope, optimism, belief, and determination. You gotta keep writing for the love of writing.

Writing about my paralysis cleared matters up and broke the log jam. (I now have a featured image of logs floating through my mind.) I’m ready to submit. (Ha, ha, I love how that can have multiple meanings.) All they can do is say no, right?

The day is full of promise. I got my coffee. Time to submit, and then write and edit like crazy, at least one more time.

Floofathon

Floofathon (floofinition) – a housepet’s race around the house, usually on an erratic course, and often at bewilderingly high speeds, typically lasting for several minutes, and usually with uncertain origins or causes; something (such as an event, activity, or session) characterized by a housepet’s great concentrated effort.

In use: “In an impressive floofathon that lasted over an hour, the four cats gathered at the window and watched the noisy little sparrows at the bird feeder.”

 

Love and Time

What about the speed of love? she asked.

Raising his eyebrows, he laughed. You can’t measure love’s speed.

Why not?

Love is beyond classic physics and quantum mechanics. Love exists in a reality of its own. Time bends love, and love bends time, and if you try to understand that, you’ll bend your mind.

She said, The Rolling Stones said time is on our side.

The Rolling Stones were wrong. Time doesn’t take sides.

Wednesday’s Theme Music

I started streaming this song today, and then started flipping between various versions that I knew.

“Route 66” by Bobby Troup seems to capture or convey something elemental that people like to sing. He wrote the song while driving cross-country with his wife. His lyrics are the foundations for multiple interpretations, from Nat King Cole to John Mayer, with a chunk of people in between. I happened to start with the Depeche Mode cover today, and then popped into the Mayer version before jumping back to Nat King Cole and then then the Stones. It’s intriguing how each performer adjusts it to their style and era of music. As fascinating as all of that, Route 66 features powerfully in the Steinbeck novel, The Grapes of Wrath. 

Enjoy them all, a celebration of a classic road and a classic song, “Route 66”, about a road that barely still exists.

Nat King Cole

Bobby Troup – the composer.

Chuck Berry

 

The Stones

 

Depeche Mode

 

John Mayer

The Speed of Time

I’m returning to a favorite topic, the speed of time, because I’ve discovered more about about it.

The speed of time is not universal. As everyone knows, according to the School/Work Principle, time’s speed isn’t constant. When you’re waiting for the school or work day to end, time not only slows, but sometimes goes backward, forcing you to repeat several minutes. Some movies, are like that, too.

Learning of this, the NFL manages to employ this in their football games. The last two minutes of an NFL game often takes as long as most of the rest of the game. My wife can attest to that. She’s endured it. “When are we leaving?” she asks.

“As soon as this game is over.”

“How much is left?”

“Not much.”

That waffling, of course, warns her. “How much time is left?” she asks.

“It’s the last two minutes of the fourth quarter.”

“Okay, I’m going to go bake some cookies.”

Using that as a basis for my research, I confirmed that traffic-jam time drags almost as slow as the final two minutes of an NFL game, or the last ten minutes of work or the school day.  Shopping time remains the slowest of all, though. Even the NFL has not been able to slow time like shopping will do. Figuratively speaking, shopping time can literally last an eternity. I’ve endured several election cycles while I’ve been shopping. I found that having a Fitbit helps deal with shopping time. It doesn’t change the rate of speed, but I can get a couple of million steps in while I’m walking around, waiting.

Waiting in line time is almost as bad as shopping time. I’ve had clothes wear out while I’ve been standing in line to pay for my purchases, especially at Costco. Costco cashier lines exist in a weird time zone of their own where time gets very sluggish. I’ve spent hour-minutes in line, gazing at what others have bought and comparing them to our purchases.

On the other end of it, I’ve discovered some periods of time that pass quickly. Sleep time is very fast. I don’t know how many times I thought, I’ll just sleep for a few more minutes, and then close my eyes, and, snap, forty minutes have elapsed.

Writing time is frequently often as fast. I have three hours to write, I think, and a cuppa coffee. Then I begin, and the next thing I know, writing time is ended, and I still have coffee.

Which is sort of weird. Coffee time by itself seems to flow at an ideal pace. That’s not true for all beverages. I can tell you, beer time goes fast. Sit down to have a beer, and next thing you know, it’s hours later.

Tuesday’s Theme Music

As I piddled about this morning, I compiled a mental list of stuff that I wanted slash comma needed or should do. “It’s been a while,” I kept thinking, responding to these things, and then, was like, oh, yeah. “It’s Been Awhile”. Staind. What year?

That required a neuron convention to decide. I was certain that it was 2001, based on how and where I remembered hearing the song, but it seemed like last week, pushing me to question my results, forcing me onto the innertubes to confirm, yep, 2001.

Although I was pleased to recall the correct year, I was then left baffled with, what was I about to do? Too bad I couldn’t hit the innertubes to remember that.

 

Confession #47,236

I confess, I don’t often watch television commercials. I find them insipid. It’s a longtime stance. With that stance, I’ve trained my mind to mute the television, just tune the commercial out, turn the channel, or leave.

Do you hear a but coming? Good hearing. Do you use hearing aids? No? Just wondering.

But, a recent Apple iPhone commercial engaged me. One, it was different. Two, it had lots of moving colors (pretty, so pretty). Three, it had an interesting but unfamiliar song.

If you haven’t seen or hear it, here is Cosmos Sheldrake with part of his song, “Come Along”. Sing along.

Come along catch a Heffalump,
Sit with me on a muddy clump,
We’ll sing a song of days gone by.
Run along now don’t be glum,
Get you gone now have some fun,
Don’t be long for the end is nigh.
Don’t let moments pass along and waste before your eyes,
March with me and the borogoves,
Come with me and the slithy toves,
And never ask us why.
Come come come come come along now,
Run away from the hum-drum,
We’ll go to a place that is safe from
greed, anger and boredom.
We’ll dance and sing till sundown,
and feast with abandon,
We’ll sleep when the morning comes,
and we’ll rise by the sound of the birdsongs.
We’ll be here when the world slows down,
and the sunbeams fade away,
Keeping time by a pendulum as the fabric starts to fray.

 

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