Holiday Break, Day IV

Writing was absolute shit tonight.

It's the first time I've put pen to the page, or fingers to the keyboard in this case, in like three weeks. Everything is feeling truncated and abridged. I'm hoping the mere act of starting will be enough to get the ball rolling again. If this is what it's going to be like over the next month or so, than it's going to be a long long slog to the finish line. But reaching the finish line is what's important. For a first novel I can definitely do some serious editing and re-editing.

I only got about a thousand words and everything felt flat. I want to watch noir murder mysteries to get inspired, but I'm afraid that if I do than I'm going to be just rehashing what was already done.


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We got hit with a nice blizzard last night. Not as bad as what you'd imagine a blizzard to be, but at least I'm going to be getting my white christmas! There are about 6-8 inches on the ground, hopefully more is on it's way this week. My dad got out and used his snow blower. I was hoping he'd let me shovel. I need the exercise.

I took my dog for a walk today, and she enjoyed the cold weather. We'd bound through the unshoveled sidewalks and she would grin and then bury her head in the drifts, bringing it up again covered in white.

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I saw a cart in a parking lot on Friday that said "Do not Oogle someone else's cart."

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I'm still waiting to hear if my friend can go to my cottage for the week to be all writerly. If he can't than I'll probably head back to Chicago earlier. We'll see.

Holiday Break, Day I

I'm home.

I did a little update to the blog, changed the name, added a section. Made it feel a little more homey, I think. I had pictures I was going to upload into this entry, but the plug is down on the main floor and I'm feeling far too lazy to go and get it.

It's been a while since I've done a real entry, so this is gonna be one of those rambling posts that go all over the place. The others won't be as bad. Here we go.


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I've kinda stalled out on The Long Goodnight. It was going really good for the past few months, and I went blitzing through the 20,000 word mark and just hit a wall. I'm still hoping to finish it by January 1st, but I'm being realistic enough to say that getting 60-80,000 words in 2.5 weeks is a little ridiculous and intense. That's not to say I'm not going to try.

In terms of story it is still barreling forward and I'm still wholly invested in what it's trying to do. The reason that it came up flat is that I've been buried in a swamp of school and grad school application work. And I bought Mass Effect for my Xbox 360. Dumb move. Avoid at all costs. It will swallow your soul.

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The semester is over.

I took the GRE a week ago and it was exhausting, but I'm glad that it came out alright. Now I've got to finish the rest of the application process and cross my fingers. The thing that made it interesting is that all the math is made to be complicated but also really easy to solve in a totally out of the box manner. This balances the engineering majors taking it with the English majors. They suggest six months of studying to fully prepare. I crammed a twelve hour session the day before and did alright.

This semester has been all sorts of grueling, for really no reason whatsoever. People I've talked to agree completely with me. The weight of it all. Just the mindset. People are tired, and now it is break. I've got one more semester left and I'm counting the days.

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I'm home, but for the first time I'm not sure it's where I want to be.

Things are changing. In Chicago I'm finally getting a small group of friends that I actually want to hang out with, and who I (in the month I've known them) hung out with from time to time. It's making city more than bearable and actually somewhat desirable. I don't know quite how to comprehend my feelings on that. I was so determined to be done and be gone and never return to that city, but if I have friends there it's not so bad. And suddenly I'm kicking myself (only somewhat) for living like a hermit for so long. I had no excuse (that made sense), and now I'm kind of paying the price. We'll see what next semester holds.

I started writing music again. When my muse shut up for a while life became really strenuous. I mean there is only so many times you can leave prayers and burnt offerings to that wonderful person living in the basement of your brain before you start to wonder if they ever plan on unlocking the door and chatting with you again. It's not a lot of song. Only a repetitive chorus and a verse. I really like it though. My friend Ryan has been rubbing off on my writing style a bit. I can feel myself reaching for hooks and trying to find something more poppy. Doing that has always come very tough to me. I can point out good ones in other songs but I am terrible about doing it myself.

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I want a cat.

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here are those lyrics:

If I let you through this door
than you'll be wanting more and more
but all that's left is me
my old house you blew away
and I thought that would sate your hunger
no, what will it be?

come and knock knock on my door
what are you waiting for


I promise that I'll actually finish that song.

To bed I go. Tomorrow there will be pictures and stories with less ambiguous rambling.

School Week 2

I'm starting to wonder if scheduling an 8am shift at the library was such a good idea. In order to make it here on time I've got to leave my apartment (in Roger's Park, on the northern edge of the city) no later than 7am. Really, in order to have time to stop at Dunkin Donuts (which is just around the corner) to fuel up, I have to leave at about 6:45. For me that means waking up at 6 just barely gives me enough time to fly through a shower, shave, pack the bag, finish any last minute homework, and hop on a train. Then I sit for an hour.

We're starting to scout out locations for the diner. On Sunday Mike, Andrew (his director of photography) and I went to this diner near the White Sox's Cominskey Park. It was the closest thing I've seen to the diner I have imagined. Has the counter, and the kitchen divided by a high bar. The corner enterance was perfect, and the exterior (while not the single story trailer I had in mind) was gorgeous. The inside was not quite it. Too much wood, too many soft tones of browns and pinks. The diner both Mike and I imagine is far more sterile. Gritty. Colder bluer tones. And a little smaller. It has to look as though it could be run by only two guys, a waiter and a cook.

The diner, which appears in many forms, in many of my stories, is fairly similar to the highway one that Edmund stops at. And, here's the creepy part, the waitress we had was the exact waitress I had imagined in my mind at the diner along the highway. It was very creepy.

My friend/mentor, Mort Castle, just got an editors position over at Doorways Magazine, a horror and fantasy journal. They have a winter issue coming out, and are accepting submissions. I'm working on preparing a horror piece based around this constantly perplexing (and very Eastern European pagan) tidbit on a lesser known helper of Santa Claus.

The Krampus is a demonic like helper who comes along with Santa Claus to take care of the kids on the naughty list. According to Austrian tradition, instead of coal, the naughty kids get whipped and even carried away. Krampuses (plural) are depicted as the iconic devil, or sometimes shaggy. I'm going to do a slight take on it, mixing with another of Santa's less jovial helpers, Knecht Ruprecht, or Black Peter. It just seems so perfect for this horrific but very applicable take on the Santa Claus legend.