Friday’s Theme Music

Welcome to Friday, March 19, 2021. The shiny sky thingy popped over the horizon at 7:16 AM this morning and will do the setting thing at 7:22 PM. The shining sky master has been drenching us in sunshine since its arrival this AM, but a few high clouds have drifted in like they’re going to put a stop to that. We’ll see. The numbers on the wall claim it’s 37 degrees F but it feels warmer. Maybe it’s the sun effect prompting me to think it’s warmer than truth.

Today’s music is a disco throwback. Released in 1977 by Yvonne Elliman, “If I Can’t Have You” was strong on the charts in the U.S., France, Belgium, Canada, and Australia. I admit, I had to look up the artist’s name. I knew the song thoroughly, but not the artist, which may be an indictment to how the music is often presented without the artist’s name being mentioned. The song was written by Barry Gibbs of Bee Gees fame. If you saw Saturday Night Fever, you heard the song.

Why this song today? Don’t know. It emerged as part of the dreamscape. Maybe I was in some romantic encounter in a dream forgotten except for the feeling and song. It’s stuck in my head, though, and I need to get it out.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax. Also, carpe diem, yeah?

Cheers

The Floof Jays

The Floof Jays (floofinition) – Formed as a Rhythm & Floof band in Floofton, Floofhio, in the late 1950s, the Floof Jays achieved moderate success in the Floofnited States in the 1960s before gaining prominence with a string of hits in the 1970s. The band remains active touring and recording.

In use: “Well-known hit songs by the Floof Jays released in the 1970s include “For the Love of Kibble” (which reached number nine in the Floofnited States), and “I Love Kibble”, which charted at number five.”

Qafloof

Qafloof (floofinition) – Discredited and scurrilous anonymous organization who foment theories and lies aimed to undermine animals’ fair treatment, health, and safety.

In use: “Qafloof adherents often believe that animals lack souls and intelligence, can’t experience emotions, and are unworthy of kindness and protection.”

Thursday’s Theme Music

The rain is calling, the coffee is shining, and the sun is falling.

Wait; redo.

Rain falling – sun shining – coffee calling. Okay.

We’ve landed on Thursday, March 18, 2021, for those who are scoring at home. Sol’s appearance was at 7:18 AM while his exit is expected at 7:21 PM here in southern Oregon. Showers are falling, the sun is shining, and the temperature is 43 degrees F according to the thingy hanging on my house.

Having to do with dreams, a 1970 song by Van Morrison called “Domino”. The song’s opening lyrics came at me after I muddled through dream thoughts.

Don’t wannna discuss it
Think it’s time for a change
You may get disgusted
Start thinkin’ that I’m strange

In that case I’ll go underground
Get some heavy rest
Never have to worry
About what is worst or what is best

h/t to AZLyrics.com

In the short space required to write this, clouds and rain have overcome the sunshine, tempering hopes for a warm, pleasant spring day. Good writing, reading, drinking coffee day, though, if you have the protection and the means.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax.

Cheers

A Dream of Five Things

It was an interesting, wide-ranging dream with several friends and family members. It also included the remains of a Roman city…in California; an overdue water bill for $53 dollars; returning rental cars; and picking out seats for an airline trip.

GT, an old friend I was stationed with in another country, was visiting me. I lived in Half Moon Bay, California, as I did for several years at the century’s beginning. GT was telling me about his experience in the town. He’d felt creepy and strange, like someone was watching him.

Yes, I explained to him. That’s because Half Moon Bay is built on Roman city ruins. Everyone feels the same effect. It affects some more than others.

“Really?” GT asked.

“Yes. It’s not felt as much on the main streets but it intensifies as you go down the narrower and smaller side streets. The further you are from a well-traveled road, the stronger it becomes.”

“What is it?”

“It’s the energy, spirits, and souls of the people who lived there before us. They still live there.”

I went on to tell him all about it. I then described how other common friends had visited me and experienced the same impact. There’d been articles about it. Everyone who lived there experienced it. I had, yes.

It was time for me to go. A group of us got into our five rental cars and drove to the airport to turn them in. My car was last in line. I had one passenger; I was giving them a ride. It was night, but when we were waiting in line to return the cars, we turned off the cars’ lights and engines. We were stopped on a hill. The car was facing up it. Sitting in the dark, I worried that other cars were going to come up around that last corner and hitting us. I kept checking the mirrors. For some reason, all the cars were to be backed up. I don’t recall this being communicated, but I released the brakes, put the car in neutral, and let it roll backward. As it picked up speed, my passenger began panicking. I decided I needed to turn on the car and lights, doing that as we stopped.

Inside the terminal now, I moved forward to turn in the rental car. I approached a counter where a man informed me that I had an overdue water bill. Some back and forth followed. I learned the bill was $53 and over thirty days overdue. I wanted to pay it then and there but he wouldn’t let me. Because it was overdue, it had to be paid elsewhere, which turned out to be a counter across from his.

My wife joined me. I told her about the overdue water bill. I was upset; paying those bills were her responsibility. She surprised me by shrugging it off. She knew it was overdue. She’d not forgotten to pay it, but decided not to for her own reasons.

I boarded a wide, modern jet aircraft. Five of us, all friends, were present. Five seats, all different — some were brown leather but others were cloth — were in a half circle. One friend, a VP and former co-worker, was trying different seats, grinning as he explained that he wanted one which reclined and swiveled. I already knew what each seat did. As soon as I could, I took the seat that I wanted in the front and center. My friend was disappointed because he was still trying the seats but I ignored him. I had as much right to the seat as him, and it was the one I wanted.

The end.

Ten Writing Truths

I’ve been listening to interviews via podcasts and Youtube for the past two weeks and distilled some essential truths. I knew these but have never paused to write them down. Thought I’d do that today. Here it is, the culmination of a hours of interviews with writers, editors, and agents.

  1. There’s no thing such as writer’s block. I’d concluded that myself long ago but happy to hear other writers acknowledge that. What is often called writer’s block can be insecurity, doubt, a lack of self-confidence, uncertainty about where to go next, and anxiety about how it’s all going. It can also just be a mental pause to allow your mind to work things out, re-balance, and find the new direction. I never worry it, just monitor it, like a pot that’s boiling, waiting for the right moment for the next move. Meanwhile, I’ll usually work on some aspect of the novel in parallel. None of this is particularly novel to fiction writing; I had the same issues and followed the same process when I was in the military. Back then, it wasn’t fiction writing, but organizing my mind to create standard operating procedures, emergency checklists, operational plans, performance reviews, etc. The same methodology was employed as a civilian in my roles as a customer service manager, product manager, technical support manager, and analyst.
  2. You must write everyday. No, breaks ARE permitted. I once believed and fervently followed this. But it can lead to burn out and isolation. Like most things in existence, a balance is required for optimum results. Yet, admittedly, I’m addicted to the writing process. I love imagining what has happened and then chasing the question and answer to what comes next. I enjoy finding new ways of playing with phrases and exploring characters. It’s an entertaining escape.
  3. Having stated that I don’t need to write every day, I admit, though, that I’m driven to write fiction every day, even if it’s just to add one sentence that suddenly arrives in my head. I never stop writing in my head. I might consciously relegate the current novel in process to a lower priority for a period, but that is usually to permit my brain to address the story and arise with the answer to the question, what next? Besides, even if I’m not doing the novel in process, I’m typically thinking of other stories to write.
  4. Fiction writing is incredibly immersive. It is for me, but I think writing is a personal matter. How you go about it compare to how I go about it is bound to be different. This list won’t have the same items and slant for you as it does for me.
  5. There are so many stories to be written, it’s a boundless cornucopia of ideas. The challenge is that they all take time and other resources to develop and complete. Frustrating, fun, and never ending.
  6. No one else cares about what you’re writing when you’re trying to establish yourself as a writer. Pretty much true, outside of other writers doing the same. In my experience, if this is not true for you, you’re lucky. My family and friends will sometimes ask, “Are you still writing?” The question amuses me. Like, why would I stop? I’ve also learned that I don’t want to share what I’m writing with people when it’s in progress. Excited as I become, I don’t want to jinx it or milk the energy. Besides that, trying to convert what I’m writing, which is meant to be read, into verbal conversation plays tricks with the order of progress. Also, what I had planned often takes unusual spins, so where I thought I was heading takes detours and undergo changes. That’s okay.
  7. Writers enjoy talking to other writers. Absolutely true for me. I enjoy talking about the process with other writers. Some of that is venting, but I’m also interested in stealing ideas, borrowing habits, and attempting new methods. Unfortunately for me, I’m mostly an introvert, except when plied with alcohol, whereupon I become obnoxious, so going to writer conferences is hit and miss. Sometimes I find a groove with a group there but it’s infrequent enough that I shy away from them now. I did have a writing support group here, but the folks moved away. I considered Zooming with them, but we struggled to find a common time. Lot going on with their families…or so they claimed.
  8. Writing is a lonely space. Patience and persistence is required.
  9. Trust yourself. Given the isolation and solitude, this is probably the most challenging for me. I need to write and trust myself — but what if my trust is misplaced? What if I’m so far into my own words that I’m blind to what I’ve written. What if I’m insane and lack talent and ability and don’t realize it? Does it matter if I’m happy writing and striving to translate thoughts into tales?

That’s short of ten. Tell me your writing truths. Help me fill in my list. Cheers

Papafloof

Papafloof (floofinition) – Senior male animal who becomes the father figure for other animals.

In use: “When rescue kittens were brought in to be fostered, big Beau, the tough, menacing retired K-9 German Shepherd, became papafloof, licking the little felines clean, watching over them when they slept and played, protectively cupping them with his big body, gently guiding them with his enormous paws and snout.”

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