Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofschach Test (floofinition) – Process animals use to access new objects and creatures to determine the best response.
In use: “With many animals, the Floofschach Test begins with an alert glance and sharpened listening, followed by sniffing and a mental appraisal. Some, though, employ an abbreviated Floofschach Test, seeing something and deciding, nope, I’m gone.”
“Floof Purple” (floofinition) – Hard floof Flooflish band in 1968, credited as pioneers of heavy floof music.
In use: “Known for songs such as “Treats in the Water” and “Flooftrucking,” Floof Purple’s energetic blend of vocals, organ, guitar and drums introduced many young animals to new ventures in music.”
Floof-effect (floofinition) – 1. The weather impact on fur or feathers.
In use: “The air temperature was thirty-seven degrees but the sun was shining, so the floof-effect was fifty.”
2. Impact of an animal on a mood or atmosphere.
In use: “Everyone was quiet and pensive, waiting to see what happened, until the floof-effect of a cat sauntering in changed everything.”
After watching David Byrne’s performance on SNL last night (very entertaining) and then viewing some clips of Concert for George (2002) (oh, a few more of them were gone), today I have Aerosmith with “Back in the Saddle” (1977). Monday morning – where else you supposed to be? Ride on.
This live version rocks, just like classic rock should. Defiant and bold, sing it loud, and it’ll take you fearlessly out into the day.
A storm of words struck. Three thousand, thirty-one hundred more were added when I’d finished after typing and revising, but that was it. The muses said, “It’s done. Type, the end.”
Really? It’s done?
Well, no. Writers know that more remains after typing the end on a draft. Like having a baby, delivery is just another step in the process. There’s the afterbirth and then, life.
(And yeah, writing a novel isn’t as painful as childbirth. I know it’s a weak simile. The point isn’t about pain, but process.)
There’s uncertainty, finishing a novel, for me. Officially, this is the fourth draft. Unofficially, many parts of it were written multiple times, worked and reworked, trying to mold it into something that follows the three c’s: comprehensible, compelling, and coherent. I don’t know if I succeeded. I’m flush with the emptiness of finishing and the uncertainty of what I’ve finished. I’ll need to re-work all of this tomorrow that was done today; that’s my practice. Then I’ll go back to the start and begin again, reading, reviewing, revising, looking for holes, confusion, and weaknesses. Many likely abound.
I like the characters. They’ve been good to me. I’ll miss them, if this is done. I’ll miss their voices saying, “And then I say this and think that and did this, and then that happened to me.”
Looking back on a couple posts that I wrote about the process, it’s fun to note how cracking some aspect of it seemed more satisfying than finishing writing it. It sort of makes sense, as writing a novel, for me, is a puzzle to be solved. Working on it is the challenge. Finishing it means that the challenge is done.
As always, writing a novel has been an entertaining experience. I want others to read and enjoy it. I want it to challenge their thinking as it challenged mine, and to provide them an escape as it has provided me. That’s a whole other process, getting it out there where others can enjoy it. That’s a more daunting challenge.
Final counts. Time – started November 1st, 2019, finished March 1st, 2020. Wrote almost every day, as I was forced to take time off for holidays and illness. One hundred eighteen thousand words, three hundred ninety pages, and uncounted hours of thought.
Yes, and final working title (who knows if it’ll hold?): Other Moments, Different Times, a speculative novel about life and memory, with science fiction nuances.
The coffee cup is empty but the coffee shop has become noisy with socializing and music. It’s cold outside, despite the sunshine, but it’s time to walk and reflect, time to stop another day of writing like crazy, at least one more time.
Flooftrodden (floofinition) – Oppressed or treated badly by an animal, parti”cularly a housepet.
In use: “She often felt flooftrodden as her big ol’ tom, Deadpool, jumped onto her abdomen, knocking her wind out of her with a big, “Oof,” or worse, stepping on a nipple when she was in bed. She loved him (he was very sweet), but the big fella, twenty pounds (and wasn’t all fluff), had no idea of what he was doing to her.”
“The Floof Seasons” (floofinition) – American floof and pop band that became internationally successful in the 1960s and 1970s. The band’s name was changed in 1970 to “Floofie Valli and the Floof Seasons” as a reflection of the lead vocalist’s increased popularity and focus.
In use: “Vocals and harmony always dominated The Floof Season’s music as they discovered success with songs such as “Walk Like A Cat” and “Big Dogs Don’t Cry”, their second and third Floofboard Top 100 hits.”
When he came in, none noticed him. He drifted from table to table, touching others’ food and drinks with impunity, giving them little “Boops” on their noses like he was playing with children. He hung around awhile as others came and went, not doing anything but loitering, and not taking up much space.
They didn’t know him then but they soon learned who he was. It was always that way with a virus.
Michael Seidel, writer 