Friday, February 25, 2011

Oh yeah, that's a number to celebrate

No long post here, but I just had to share. I just wrote word #60,000 in my novel. Technically I ended the writing session with 60,231 words but who is counting?

The word was "with," not that it has some profound meaning or anything.

I'm still plugging away on this novel.

In the same session I also connected two plot lines that had been running on different paths. Successful way to start the weekend!

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

I’m not crying. It’s eye drops, really

I passed 50,000 words this week. That’s my milestone report. The going has been a little rough thanks to my eyeballs. Yep, you take them for granted until you can’t use them.

Pardon the history dump, but here goes. I had LASIK in 2001 after I got my undergrad at Gonzaga.  I saw 20/20 for about 8 years and then in late 2009 things started to get a little fuzzy. I’d already paid for lifetime enhancements on my peepers, so I got them re-zapped in December 2010.

Fast-forward a month to my second or third follow up appointment. They saw some epithelial cells under the flap and we decided to remove them. They scooped and scrapped away the bad guys on Feb. 9. Bad news. It didn’t work. They’ve got to go back in and clean me out in two weeks – Feb. 28.

The reason for my sad story? It’s really messing up my writing time! The surgeries take me away from the computer for at least two days. And given the fact that I have a real job, I’m in front of the computer at least 8 hours a day without my personal writing. Not exactly what I wanted to happen during my writing – I’ve got a (self-imposed) deadline people!

So if you see me in the cafeteria, Starbucks or through the window in my makeshift office, I’m not really crying. It’s eye drops, I swear. Mostly.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Packers to win, right?

My wife Katie and I on the red Roos Field at Eastern 
Washington University in December. Saw the Eagles
beat Villanova to go to - and eventually win - the national
championship. Fitting football picture. 
Let's make it official before the game. I’m picking and cheering for the Packers in the Super Bowl. 

Living in Washington and being a Seahawk fan means a two things. First it means I’m used to disappointment. Secondly it means that I could never, ever cheer for the Steelers since they robbed Seattle of a Super Bowl win back in XL in Detroit. Enough said.

No writing on the book until tonight. Family coming over to watch the game and most of the day was spent cleaning. Got a nice 2,400 words done yesterday morning, so I’m OK to take it a little easy today.

I’m estimating that my 70,000 word count goal is going to be too little to finish the story I’m telling, but we’ll see after rewrites and draft two or three. 

This week should be interesting since I have to have eye surgery on Wednesday - a clean up from my LASIK in December. Might be working with only one eye. Like a pirate with a patch.

OK, signing off until after the game is over.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

I lost the use of my head, lost my journal and almost lost my mind

Last week I lost three straight days to the worst head cold I have ever had. Seriously wicked stuff. Finally got back in the game by last Sunday, but by then I was way behind on my word count goals.

So, while my actual output was crappy, the downtime was actually pretty good. I was able to think about my plot and characters as complete human beings, not just people who were living in the next scene or two. I created a few new entries in my timeline and was able to clarify some stuff in my head, which is ironic since it was my head that was bothering me.

I nearly lost my journal last night. I’m keeping those “Ah-Ha” ideas written down in a little leather journal that my wife gave me. It’s getting filled with ideas that I then transfer to my outline when appropriate. I’ve also combed it for ideas – good and bad when I get stumped. I didn’t know it was so important to me until I couldn’t find it. It should have been next to the bed, on my writing table or on the end table in the living room.


So at 10:30 last night when I decide I’m too tired to write, but too awake to fall asleep I decide to read my Wired magazine. I’m thinking positive thoughts so I want to have my journal next to me – you know, just in case inspiration strikes. It was know where to be found. After 20 minutes of looking and turning on just about every light in the house I put on my shoes and go outside to the curb and dig through the trashcan that I set out about 45 minutes earlier. My theory is that somehow I knocked the journal off my nightstand, into the nearby trashcan, bagged with the rest of the “upstairs” trash and hauled it downstairs and stuffed it into the garbage can.

I can only imagine what my neighbors are thinking when they see me in my sweatpants and a T-Shirt digging through the trashcan at 10:50 at night. Sure, that guy’s gonna be a published author someday. Sure.

Oh, yeah, it was 7 degrees outside too. No luck finding it.

As I turn back to go inside the house and cry, it dawns on me that there was one other place I could have put the journal. Somewhere I’ve never put it before. My gym bag. Low and behold – that’s where it was. Three feet from where I originally started my search.

I’m an idiot, but at least I found my journal.