AMAZON – BARNES & NOBLE – APPLE BOOKS – KOBO
More work on third chunk of Kharma part 12.
Ideas/threads to carry over into future stories pop up in my head as I edit along. I write them down in my little book for later. Bits for the next story or even the third or tenth story down.
Can’t stress enough to a new writers how important it is to carry a tiny note/sketch book. Things pop into you head at any time. For me it’s when my brain relaxes or is distracted, in meditative states. Listening to music, watching movies, reading, showering, or by water. Like David Lynch says, You gotta grab them. Write them down even if they’re not perfect. You never know what they can be later. Even years from now they may mesh with something else that could pop up later. 1+1=3
Went over final proof before publication on short story for Unwinnable Magazine. Yes, that was the short that I did many revisions on. “You Are Disturbing The Peaceful Mood I Am In” should be out in their May issue soon.
Oddly the editor wants me to send him an invoice for payment so he can remember to pay me. Which is fine and honest of him. Sometimes these editors forget to pay. Sometimes they never pay. So I will do that.
I discovered that Thomas the Tank Engine will release a new character with autism this summer which is cool. Then I thought, shit. Not for the character. For the fact that the vaccine people out there will put it down like they put down Sesame Street and their autistic character. How it’s bad to normalize, create acceptance and enlightment for autism, how parents shouldn’t be okay with their children being defective, and okay with doctors and the pharmaceutical companies making them that way.
Grrrr, poxy fuckers.
No. I’m not going to get into it.
Thomas is good. Thomas is good for autistic kids too with those big expressive faces. My son loved watching Thomas. God, the little bastard ran tracks through out the apartment and sped ten trains at a time. I had no place to walk with out tripping and stepping on them. We had all the DVDs and I had to watch that Alec Baldwin movie. I did like watching the episodes with George Carlin in them, though.
Still have the tracks and trains in storage. I should bring them out for my daughter to play with. She’s gonna be 4 this summer, she’s just about right for them.
Anyway, here is episode 3 of Stain Boy:
Finished the draft/revision of Hacker’s Moon (Miki 11) and sent it out. Hopefully I should see it back in two months and another few months of revising it again with said comments I can have I ready for the world.
Tomorrow I will work on one of two stories for resubmitting. After those two are done I need to revise two more to send out to markets.
Today I send out two more stories to markets. Been keeping busy, trying to make money. It’s hard out there trying to find high paying markets but since I write so much in various genres it’s been helping.
Which reminds me of my life. My writing reflects my life in that I can’t stick with one genre or type of person or group.
In a book I have horror, mystery, sci-fi, romance, comedy ala kitchen sink. Like my life. I have many kinds of friends but I don’t stick with one group. I have no tribe. Not even in school when I was a kid. I hung out with one kind of kid one day and another kind of kid a different day. Sometimes I brought the two kids together the same day but not all the time. Sometimes that shot me in the foot. Those two kids would get together and not invite me and I would have no one to hang out with.
As I grew older I had fewer friends but more groups. Don’t ask. I don’t know how that happened. They just didn’t ask me to go with them. In all fairness I was home writing or watching TV or depressed or whatever.
Same thing happened in college. Many groups. I stood alone.
(My isolation is another blog post)
Today being in a tribe is nice. People have your back. You never feel alone. They stick up for you. They bank on you. Cover for you.
I would probably hate it.
When I worked for Met Life they tried to get me to join their lunches and after work drunk fests and weekend picnics and overtime and I decline. Of course they subtly made me feel like I was doing something wrong. I agreed. It was wrong for me to do. But I wanted to go home to be with my wife.
The one constant was how I felt in these groups. I never felt comfortable for long. I didn’t belong. I wasn’t normal with them. I was the alien. I didn’t speak their language. I couldn’t fake being human long enough. Maybe that’s why I didn’t stay with each one for long. (again, another blog post)
Now I have my own group. My wife, son, and daughter. I don’t want to leave. I don’t feel alone with them. I’m comfortable. I feel the have my back and take care of me. I’ll do the overtime. Go to the picnics. Have the drunkfests. Three years old is a good age to start drinking.