Summer Break, Day Twelve

I have a problem finishing stories. And songs. And journal entries. Lots of things really. My problem is that I'll get into the story, crank on it for some time, and then I'll hit a snag. The characters have been speaking to me up to this point. And like a dog, I've been dumbly trailing along behind. Led by their leash. Watching where they go. Writing it down. Suddenly they stop talking. They stop moving. They stare out from the page and say "ok what now, Mr. Writer?" And I end up shrugging because I'm nowhere near ready to carry on with them. I've tried to avoid this with the rider. Anything he does has opened new doors. Those doors have raised questions, and I just nod and say, "what about this?" and he does the rest. I've hit a dull spot with him, and haven't added to his story in weeks now. Instead I've picked up a fresh story and I'm trying some new ideas. Getting myself bogged down further.

While being a writer is fun, sitting in front of blank pieces of paper and declaring loudly that "I know you're in there, story, so come on out!" It also helps to be able to have something to show for all my hours of play. Be able to take something tangible that's 8.5x11 and fits into an envelope with stamps. This is usually a good thing, because this is what publishers are looking for. This is what they like to then copy into magazines. For which they will send you copies of said magazine, and sometimes (hopefully) little slips of paper that can be exchanged for other little slips of paper that can then be exchanged for edibles.
With all that preamble said, I have a new idea. Another short story that is speaking really loudly to me. It's starting to look like a very likely entrant to the Rosebud Mary Shelley competition I've been hotlinking here for the past few weeks. The current working title is "Bern and the Society of Miracle Workers." While the connotations are right, and that is, more or less, what the story is about, it's not the title I want to send it in under.

It's been almost two weeks since school ended for the Summer Holiday. I've not written much more than ten pages in those two weeks. Many of my non-writing friends would choke at the mention of that many pages written for pleasure. As I writer I choke at that many pages for a wholly different reason. I'm sinking cash on this program. Or, in all actuality, I will be sinking cash on this program for the next thirty years (hopefully less if I manage to make money (see end of paragraph two)). I should start to see some return. With that said, it is time that I start writing again. I want to start actually showing product. And, dear reader, I am going to set myself a goal of 100 pages by the 31st of August. That should give me enough time to be amply productive, and amply lazy. Anyone who reads this should feel entirely comfortable harassing me via email, facebook, myspace, or any other medium of communication. Harassment is a perfect way to make me feel guilty.
I found a really interesting blog the other day. Its title is "Geoffrey Chaucer Hath A Blog," and it can be found here:
http://houseoffame.blogspot.com/

For the most part life has been on the quiet side. I've been running the past couple days. I took today off and walked the dog instead. It's a very enjoyable mode of exercise. I went and saw the new Harry Potter film (nothing to write home about, but nothing to shake a stick at either). Last week my dad won tickets to see Blues Traveler at Meadowbrook Music Festival in Rochester Hills. That was this evening. My friend Zach and his brother and I went to see them. They were good, but a little too long and repetitive by the end. At the very least it is getting me stoked for the Dave Matthews Band two night concert at Alpine Valley that my friend James and I are going to see at the end of August.
Now I'm going to write, and enjoy my pint of Monty Python's Holy Grail Ale.

Chicago is the single most bipolar place I've ever been in. In the winter it blows terribly. It's always gray. People walk around with their heads down, angry at everything, at the world, at you. No one is polite. It's dismal. During the summer it's the opposite. People come out in droves to exercise. They are friendly and excitable. It's almost too much for one to handle.

I went for a walk today from the corner of Chicago and State, out to the Lake and then all the way back south to Michigan and 8th. As I did I had a hard time remembering what exactly it was that I disliked about the city. It was beautiful and warm. I especially love seeing when all the boats are out in the harbor. The countless jolly rogers blowing in the wind along side the different flags for other yacht clubs.

Today has been mostly a homeworking day. Lots of catching up from my weekend at home for Ben and Kate's wedding. I did about twenty pages today. 10 of which I feel good about. The rest is just schlock I'm turning in for a grade. After a while that tends to be what happens. You do things, if only for a grade.

I'm starting to get through chapter two of The Center, and except for some minor changes, which I'll make later, I'm feeling really positive about the direction its going. It drives my teachers nuts when they start asking questions about things in it, and I can only respond with "I don't know." I know it's kind of a cheap excuse to say that, but it's also nice being completely baggage free while writing. If it's going to happen, it going to happen, if it's supposed to happen some way, it will, and if not, oh well, something else will happen. He's about to get some major payback against the guy who killed his wife. I get the feeling that it's going to take a sacrifice to achieve it. And then maybe I can actually start getting him West.

So in a vain attempt to fix the issues that Firefox was having with blogger, I lost the entire entry I was working on. Tomorrow is my free day. I may sit down and fiddle with it then. If it works I'll eventually have links and pictures and interesting things again. Until then I'll attempt to recapture what I was writing...

My "week" has come to an end. I've managed to get Fridays off for the third semester running. With that free day I can do what I want or need. Run errands. Write. Sleep in. Go to the movies. Whatever strikes my fancy. Leisure time is undervalued and overly wasted in this country. Being able to sit back and reflect, meditate, or do your own thing is very important to maintaining a healthy soul. Maybe I'll go for a run.

I gave the first two chapters of the Center to Lila (my Prose Forms and Fic II teacher) to review. I got that back from her today complete with her series of notes. It's interesting that this is the second piece that I have sent to both her and Mort. I find it amusing that where they differ in their editorial opinions it is mirror opposites. The opening section Lila wanted longer, more fleshed out. Mort on the other hand suggested an edit that would cut the two paragraph section down to about two sentences. When I told Lila this she made a concession and said to follow what Mort says. Other than that her criticisms have been helpful and will be helpful when I finish pounding out the first draft (whatever and whenever that may be), and finally go back to edit.

I'm still caught in the middle of my constant state of traveling from Haslett to Chicago and Chicago to Haslett. Though tonight, for once, feels like a bit of a reprieve from it all. I go back again this coming Wednesday for a wedding. It'll be nice when all that is over so that I can settle into a bit of a routine. I feel like I haven't quite gotten a grip on this summer semester, or this new apartment.