I'M BACK

     Sorry for the unannounced leave of absence. Lots of things have been happening, none of them very interesting (except for my knee exploding...though I have begun to walk somewhat normally again), just a lot of life happening. I've also been fussing with IMMOLATION, trying to get the ending right, and I believe I've finally got it. I finished the rough draft about ten minutes ago and I'm going to polish it up and hopefully have it ready for this upcoming Monday.

     In other news, I don't have any plans to replace IMMOLATION, so I'm not sure what will happen to my Monday posts. I'm thinking it could take more of a film making slant as I will be shooting a couple of films over the next few months. Behind the scenes, production photos, cast and crew bios with perhaps a few blooper reels. We'll see. I don't know exactly how much time will be sucked away by the films and I may put Mondays on hold for the time being.

     Thanks for reading and I look forward to hearing your thoughts on the final (reworked) chapters of IMMOLATION.

POETRY: SHIFTING

Standing on the curb

Waiting for that which won't come

Cars, like life, go by

*

In our sleep, we dream

Worlds and lives that never were

Feared horrors, wished hopes

*

Seasons pass, we age

How long the Spring and Summer

How swift Winter comes

*     *     *

    I had the hardest time naming this set. Each one's about a different aspect of life that we may or may not find ourselves in, depending on how things go. And yet, each of them, for me, share a particular quality; that of inevitable change. Even for those who are stuck in a rut will experience this change as different people come and go in our lives, as we age, as we grow.

THE AGONY AND THE ECSTASY OF REWRITES

The final chapters of IMMOLATION have been rubbing me wrong. I knew how I wanted things to end, but I couldn't seem to get there. I wandered, I detoured, I even tried a few meanderings but nothing worked. Joan wouldn't go to where I needed her to be, and even when I just plopped her down in the place I wanted, she wouldn't do what she was suppose to do.

What's a writer to do?

I suppose this is one of the advantages of being a writer of fiction; I get to rewrite history, or at least the history in the fictional world. Thankfully I'm only having to go back a few chapters to make things work. It could have been a whole lot worse. My other novel, the one I'm working on getting ready for agent queries and all that jazz, is currently getting a pretty thorough work over. It's not that the writing is bad (I've got that polished), it's that one of the main characters motivation never sat well with me. Every time I made a pass over the manuscript I'd make a note to fix her, and then I'd move on, never getting around to actually fixing her problems.

Well, it got to the point where I could no longer ignore her. Before I could fix anything else in the book, I had to figure out what to do with Sarah. Her original motivation was guilt over getting the protagonist, Erick, in trouble (and by trouble I mean secret government conspiracy/world domination with a dash of super powers trouble). But it didn't work, not sufficiently to explain Sarah's willingness and desire to see things through to the bitter end.

I tore her character apart, did a complete deconstruction, and began anew. Much of her original character traits, behaviors, quirks, and personality stayed the same. Her essence on the other hand, her background and plot points (which were weak or missing altogether before) all changed. Suddenly I had a fuller, more dynamic character that matched and drove Erick's plot development, rather than simply complimenting and adorning it.

It's refreshing, not having that nagging in the back of my mind every time I think about Sarah. Now all I have to do is fix Erick's family and I'm all set to begin the quest for an agent, and ultimately a publisher.

IMMOLATION: DELAYED

I know you're expecting a new chapter to Immolation today. Unfortunately, I've not been very happy with the last few chapters, and then this morning as I was reading over the next chapter before posting it, I realized what was wrong, and how to fix it. The downside is that to fix the problem requires some rewriting on the last few chapters. So, I'll be working on that today and as soon as I get done I'll get it all updated.

Sorry for the delay and thank you for your patience.

POETRY: BESTAMORE IS NORWEGIAN FOR GRANDMOTHER

Healthy at ninety

Going strong and loving life

First great grandchild soon

*

A slip and a fall

Hospital rooms and slurred speech

Who is this stranger

*

Bestamore, she's called

Family and friends have come

Say their last goodbyes

*     *     *

Bestamore is not my grandmother, exactly.  She's my older brother's wife's grandmother. For many people they wouldn't know their siblings spouses grandparents, but I'm not most people. I lived with my brother's wife's parents for a couple years and became an honorary member of the family. I've spent the last two Christmas's at Bestamore's house and have come to know and love her. Then, this past Tuesday, she slipped and fell. Such is life.

THE STUFF DREAMS ARE MADE OF

Today's post will be shorter than usual because I have a lot of writing to do today, and it's all my subconscious's (s's, or just s' I can never tell) fault. You see, I had a dream last night. In fact, I had several dreams, most people have 3-4 a night, interspersed among the various stages of sleep. But that's not the point. I'm not writing today about sleep cycles. No, I'm writing about dreams. My dreams, for the last four nights, have had what I call a serial dream; a dream that has continued to pick up where it left off night after night. Pretty cool, huh? I still have all the other normal dreams: flying, showing up to work/school/shopping in my underwear, etc. But for these last four nights, without fail, one of my dreams has been the continuation of the same storyline.

This happens to me from time to time, not sure why. And why do I call them serial dreams? Because that's what they are, serials. They're not recurring, just continuing. Some of them reach a conclusion, others simply stop after a while without ending. It's like television without reruns. Sometimes you love the show and it eventually ends, other shows get canceled. I've often wondered if other people have dreams like that.

My point to all this rambling is that I have to write these dreams down. So nice of my subconscious to hand over a freebee once in a while, but it does add to my already long list of stories to write. My serial dreams are always well crafted, filled with dynamic and interesting characters and the plots just drag me in.

POETRY: NEW LIFE

Life begins so small

And at once it starts to grow

A heart beat is heard

*

Weeks pass, a bump shows

Soon movement can be felt, seen

Expectant parents

*

Long nights, early morn

Babies do not sleep so well

Strange new world is life

*     *     *

As my wife and I are expecting our second child I've been reflecting on all the wonders such things bring and thought I'de write some haiku about it.