Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Some Light
Tell me all your secrets
I’ll share a few of mine
We can talk and have coffee
Or maybe a glass of wine
You can tell me about your first love
And what you do for fun
About your first kiss, about your last love
And how that came undone
We can walk together under stars
Mention all the past
Or remember funny movies
And laugh until we cry
We can shake hands before we go
Or maybe kiss good night
I’m not looking for that much
I’m just searching for some light
~ m.w.seidel
I’ve been sparking with new novel ideas. Concepts. Characters. Settings. You know. Novel stuff.
Nothing worked up enough energy to be a dance partner. Disappointment dressed in depression put in an ugly appearance.
Wait a second, I reminded myself. I have three other starts which I can pull up and fertilize and build into something. All were good concepts, pleasing to write, fun.
Also, self, your writing process has never been to figure it all out and then sit and write. You usually/almost always just write. Let it flow. Get out of the way of your thinking and just do it. So why are you trying to figure it all now? Dumb ass.
I acknowledged all this from my inner writer as true. So, okay. I decided I’d open a start and let it rip.
But instead, washing the windshield before departing for the coffee shop, a new seed from all that thinking sprouted. A new chapter positioned itself in my head. Setting, character, plot began growing out of that new sprout.
Sitting with coffee at hand, I punched out five pages in half an hour. A new novel was underway. Damn, it’s good to be a writer.
An email arrived. Tricare4U received and processed a recent claim.
Uh oh.
I expect to have a bout of acute passworditis soon.
Many Americans suffer from passworditis. The condition is brought on by websites not accepting passwords despite meeting all their stated requirements. Symptoms may include deep depression, a desire to drink heavily, incoherent screaming and swearing, high blood pressure, and a feeling of deep exhaustion accompanied by a temptation to go to bed and pull the covers over your head.
I also sometimes expire these symptoms of passworditis while using WordPress, but that’s about ‘features’ which act in capricious ways.
Tricare4U is part of the Defense Department’s healthcare labyrinth. I’ve been using Tricare variations since 1995, when I retired from the Air Force. Dealing with any Tricare issue is rarely fun and never easy. Logging on is usually the worse part. This is done through DS Log On.
As my friend Jill would say, GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
The passwords expire every 60 days. Installing a new one is a pain from hell. They have nine requirements. All are reasonable requirements. My new password meets all nine requirements. I know that because all nine requirements begin in red. As you fulfill one, it turns green. .
I must fill it into the new password box. Everything is green.
Then I add it again to confirm the password. These again show colors when it all works.
Despite everything showing as green, i.e., good to go, the submit button to complete the password change won’t come up. I stall out at that point every friggin’ time.
I used three different browsers.
Closed all windows and rebooted my computer.
Cleared my cache.
I have made twelve attempts in sixty-five minutes. I remain mired in password hell.
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
I’m shutting it down for now. More coffee is required before I try again. All this to see what they say about my claim. Will I owe? What obtuse reasoning will they use?
Sigh. Not a fun beginning to my Twosda. It’s not good for my health. Ironic?
Don’t ask me.
I completed revising and editing the novel in progress. Gravity’s Emotions.
I wrote the novel I wanted. The story I wanted to read. As ‘they’ always advise and suggest. ‘They’ are the establishment. The writers who made it. The teachers who teach it. The editors who edit it, the publishers who print it, the agents who represent it. Of course, once the writer writes the novel they want, ‘they’ all take their turns on it. That’s the art, and the business. Then it gets to the readers.
Woo, boy.
My doubts have been kicking me, heaping scorn on my effort. Those doubts are always ready to jump on me. Doesn’t matter what’s going on. They are what they are.
“Your idea of inconsistent consistent inconsistency is ridiculous,” they growl. “It’s too complicated. Too surreal and too far out there. And the book is too big. That’s also a stupid title.”
“Thanks, guys,” I answer. Because there is no arguing with doubt. Let it come, beat you up, expend its energy, and walk away. Don’t engage your doubt. That’s what ‘they’ say.
The doubts do present legitimate points. The manuscript is an epic monster. 700 pages. Umpteen billion words. Lot of fun to write, edit, revise. Amazing that I wrote that thing in a few hours a day. I started it in July of 2024. I often ponder, HTF is that possible? It neatly slots into my thoughts about duality: it was at once hard work and a long time and a lot of hours, and not much time, not too difficult, and a lot of fun.
Meanwhile, the draft is being distributed to my small core of private readers. See what they think. Decisions will be set regarding their feedback. Then, into the submission maws.
While that’s all happening, another novel is already underway.
Michael Seidel, writer 