He was enjoying himself. He was working and revising, either the third or fourth draft, although an incomplete draft. The ending was tentatively written but he needed to reach that point, had to bridge yet the first huge chunk — four hundred pages — He had an urge to rush it but there was a lot to still be told. Patience, he kept telling himself. Patience.
Yes, he was still learning the story. The story fascinated him, and he was having a good time learning it. Someday, maybe he’d know the whole.
Pasflooferine(floofinition) – Animals, including birds, who enjoy singing. Although some species are specifically known for their singing abilities, pflooferine isn’t defined as a species or genus, but as a individual characteristic.
In use: “Jade was a pasflooferine of the first order, singing just before dawn so others would get up and feed her, singing to be freed from the house at midnight and then singing again outside the bedroom window to be let back in, even singing a sad lament when she found her litter box not up to her standards.”
I know all of these things. Think most writers do. ‘Writer’s butt’ — the ache of sitting too long, massaging lines, sentences, paragraphs, intentions, plots, and so on — strikes on too many days. I often feel like I can’t do this and think about giving up. Just live a normal life, right? Not think about plotting, pacing, characters, endings, and beginnings. But the itch remains. There’s a story. Write it. Finish it. Move on, and torture yourself again. Isn’t this fun?
I did have thoughts for what is now my third book release too, but they weren’t so funny. Why? Because this was the hardest book to write.
And it wasn’t because I was writing it during 6 COVID lockdowns that spanned 290 non-consecutive days. Or the hell that was months of homeschooling. Not even the mental and physical toll of three postponed surgeries, one major surgery, one unsuccessful surgery, and a follow-up surgery I’m still yet to have, made the book hard to write (although none of those setbacks helped).
You ever think about changing your calendar? I wonder how it would affect us if on each New Year, our first day was 365 (366 for a leap year). Then the days count down, like a Julian calendar in reverse. Today, instead of August 26, 2022, it would be something like Friday, 128, 2022. Then you’d think, oh my goodness there’s only 127 days left to this year. Your conversations would be interesting as people suggesting having a celebration on the 120, and you reply, “Is that a Friday?”
Today’s particulars aren’t notably different from yesterday. When I awoke a few hours ago, the temp. was 61 F. We’re up to 20 C now. Sunset is expected at 7:55 PM after a sunrise of 6:30 AM. Our high will be about 93 F. No clouds in the sky, and it’s blue. Air Quality is 2, so pretty darn good. On the news front, the GOP has shifted targets from the DOJ and are no longer chanting about defunding the FBI. Now they want to defund the IRS. Their cycle, from the false statements of the former GOP POTUS to their continual insistence that the 2020 POTUS election was stolen to some who lost claiming they won (yes, I’m commenting on you, Laura Loomer), to verbal attacks on different government departments seems to be about sowing discord, distrust, and confusion, which destabilizes our government, polarizes our politics, and disrupts our society. So no changes in the news, other than, oh, yeah, flooding, fires, droughts, baseball, football, and other sports. But yea, people cry, Lake Mead’s water level is no longer falling. We’re saved!
From reading news and reflection on my dreams and daily activities and routines, The Neurons feted me with John Lennon, “Watching the Wheels” from 1981. Do you remember when he was gunned down? I surely do. Anyway, The Neurons have “I’m just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round, I really love to watch them roll,” repeatedly playing in the morning mental music stream. That’s how my mood is, to some degree. Moods, like so many things, are a spectrum, so I’ll be sliding along to something else sometime, and then probably back again, and off again, and so on.
Yes, I have my coffee already, and I’ve eaten brekkie — waffles today. Now I’m contemplating the cats washing themselves and contemplating their fur, ears moving as a car passes, a bird breaks cover and tweets, caws, or screeches, pausing as a far dog barks and a prop plane drones closer. Stay positive and test negative and so forth. Here’s the music. Sing along if you will. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 