90k Words

It's not a lot to me. I've gotten that far in a short period of time. It all felt really easy and I was doing fine. I think I wrote too much today and yesterday though. Today I hit about 16k words and yesterday about 12k. I'm pretty sure that's a lot for two days. I also got a few personal things done so I am rather exhausted.

Dealing with some significant pain as well. I've always been able to find ways to manage my pain since I've not had access to Vicodin. I had a feeling the time would eventually come when OTC's just weren't enough. Last wednesday, I OD'd on OTC pain meds. It was accidental, I assure you. My average pain lingers at about 3. Wednesday night and into Thursday morning I was at a 10 almost constantly. It got so bad that I started hallucinating. I maxed Aleve, but kept taking more. I then switched to Ibuprofen which I never take. I took 4 to start on top of the Aleve and then i went from 8 to 10, even with that much in me. After that, I kept thinking I hadn't taken any meds so I just kept taking more and more. At some point during the night, I also though it was a good idea to start taking my diphenhydramine. I'm not really sure how much of that I took, but it put me out.

I'm fine. Didn't end up in a hospital or anything. Just had a really mad hangover the next day and I'm sure my liver was severely pissed at me. Thankfully, I rarely stress it so it seems to be working just fine. Only thing worrying me is that my average pain isn't a 3 anymore. Now its closer to a 5 with suddenly spikes to 7. I'm not gonna lie. I'm worried.

I am still going to finish this series though regardless of what happens. Of course, if i suffer a brain aneurysm from these massive headaches then there isn't much I can do to stop that. Hopefully I can finish though before something serious happens. I'd like to say this is just stress, but I know it's not. The one good thing about all this? The dreams have been amazing.

Interesting Chapter 3

A very interesting chapter indeed. Never written anything quite like it so I know I will definitely need to come back and do some big revisions. It was a challenge to write but I was able to get through it. As it sits, it has 25 pages, but I know that will increase as I will need to add further details.

The next chapter is one of the ones I was looking forward to. It has an old character yet to appear in this next book and I am looking to see how I can write this encounter. Chapter 5 will be another interesting one as it comes right after this one does without any break in the action whatsoever. Chapter 5 will involve a study on sleep and our perceptions while we are snoozing. I think it will draw in all the right interests and spell out exactly what i want to do. I'm a little excited about it and I want to get started on it right away.

After Rumbling Heart

Maybe it's just the feeling I have right now, but from what I have been thinking about the last few nights is this. I think I will write a few more books, those that have to do with my current characters, and then probably call it quits. Why some might ask, or based on my sales maybe just a handful of people will ask. The answer is simple. There isn't anything left to write about.

I've a strange and often tortured life and for more than 90% of my years, it seems as if I were living for someone else and not myself. I kept telling myself that once I was able to write I book that I would want to read and enjoy that life would somehow suddenly change; like it would take on a whole new meaning and I could finally live for myself and no do all the things I am simply expected to do. Yet, here I am. My book is out and available and while a few people have felt strongly enough about it to see fit to purchase it, I can't help but feel like nothing has changed at all. Here I am, still doing all the things I don't want to do and feeling as if I am only here to service the needs of others. Sure, it's easy to see that writing a book, in a sense, is the same thing, but I beg to differ. I wrote the book not for fame and fortune. I wrote it because I felt I had something to say. I had a story that I thought was amazing and sad and beautiful and terrible and so utterly consuming that i felt the need to put it all down, so that's exactly what i did. I worked so hard on it that while some dreams of making a real living off of it did seep into my mind, I stopped thinking about that all together and instead focused on writing the best book I could write.

That being said, the story is far from over as the characters will go through changes and, as in real life, both tragedy and wonderment will come into play. Unfortunately, after all that is said and done and the story is out there for all to read, I think, based on my current feelings, that I will be done. I will in no way lax in my style of writing simply to get all this over with. That has not and will never be my intention. Once I give my characters a respectable send off, I will be done and that will be that.

I don't even care about school or a job or living for that matter as most things I have been a part of in my life, in the end, never really mattered. I don't have friends and I don't expect to gain any and I am too old to go out looking for them anymore. Those I knew when I was young have grown and moved on and that's great. I am glad they were able to make a life for themselves. I look at them now and I think to myself where in the grand scheme of things do I fit? Either I have the absolute worst timing ever, or I simply don't belong anywhere. I've left towns and tried to restart my life in different places, but i began to wonder why things never seemed to work. Now I know why.

Now I know why people never cared much for my company and that's fine. I know I am difficult and hard to get along with and I know it's at least partially my fault that people have faded from my life, and I am ok with that. I never expected anyone to want to put up with me for very long and based on that, I guess I have forgiven everyone and, without words, given them an out. I cannot think of a single person in my life who really gave to craps about what I thought or what I felt or cared enough to put things aside for my benefit. It may sound greedy and it probably is, but I can't help but think to myself just how many times in my life I've taken the fall for others and how many times I was left hanging all because someone wanted something or someone else. I cannot get past it and I know it's my problem and not yours and so I will so what i feel is the right thing and just bow out.

I have 2, maybe 3 more books in me and I am working on them at this moment; feverishly finding the words so that I can give my creations a proper send off. Then after that, I am done and no one will be asked to deal with my crap anymore. I'm just done. I am tired of chasing dreams I cannot catch and I am tired of waiting for anyone to listen. I sit in a room on a floor, typing on a keyboard without a desk and that's by my own choice, but one would have to think that in all that time that someone would have at least tried to intervene.

Being that I have never felt close to anyone, not even my family, I guess this is probably the way it should be. Till I am through with all this, I will keep recording my butterflies and wondering if there really ever was an Emily Martin. My heart will keep rumbling even though I don't want it to, and with each beat, I know I will always feel a little pain. No one is there waiting for me, because all my life as the minutes and hours and days and weeks and months and years rolled by, I never once saw anyone except myself staring back at me, and I've never liked what I saw. How presumptuous of me to think that anyone would see anything different.

No Cheers or Fanfair

Buy Rumbling Heart @ Barnes and Noble

Today, a dream that I've dreamed since I was young finally came to fruition. I have , on my own, written, edited, and released a book, completely of my own creation. While I admit I am not Hemingway when it comes to writing novels, I would like to think he would have looked over my book, gave it a good once over and said to me "That a decent start, kid. Keep writing." Unfortunately, Ernest isn't alive to give me such positive feedback, so I am having to look elsewhere for readers and honest opinions.

I know I'm not some amazing writer who is going to change the world. Hell, I may not even make you think twice about rereading my book once you have it in your possession, but I hope I can at least entertain you and stimulate your mind, if even for just a few nights while you make it through my novel. I've spent countless hours and many late nights working on the words and the text and the idea behind my work just so I can make it as perfect as I can just so I can release and look at it and tell myself that I did it. I really did it.

I cannot say how many times I've broken down in tears while writing and editing this book as many of the supposedly fictional scenes do have real life events intertwined in them, many of which I would rather forget, but for reasons I cannot understand, never seem to leave my thoughts.

I am sick and I know I am. That shouldn't keep me from leaving a mark on this world though. I keep telling myself every single time I wake in the morning that I should give it at least one more go around, just one more try. Just one more try before I cash in my chips. Just one more try before I call off the search. Just one one more try before I hear my exit music begin to play.

I am putting a lot on the line here and I am done hiding behind a fake smile and false positive emotions. I hide it all from everyone, even my family. They see me and they think I am ok, when I know I am not. For all I know, maybe they know I'm not ok and that's why they keep me around. I still cannot shake those events from December of 2009 and it haunts me every single day. It will always haunt me, but it will not define me. I want to leave a mark, a legacy before it's all said and done with. With these characters I've created, I hope to do just that.

John, Olivia, Emily, The Chris's, Donna, Stella, Paul, Audrey...they are all a part of me in ways many of you will never understand. While they all, within my work, define what it is to be human, they also show us a side which I wish we could all live up to. While we move through our daily routines and go to our jobs, raise our children, go to our schools, we all, if even for a short moment in time, wish we could be the best person we could possibly be. We all wish the person we were at our best would never leave. We all wish to be the greatest parents to our children. We all wish to be the children that we know would make our parents proud. We all wish to be the husbands and wives, girlfriends and boyfriends that our partners have always wanted. We all wish to be the best friends we could be, letting our friends know that they could come to us for anything and at anytime and never be judged. However, we all know that this isn't how the world really works.

In the real world, we seem to casually wade through our lives, looking out only for ourselves and never looking back to see the people that we've stepped over to get to our final destination. While some of you read this, you all will surely say to yourself "Well, I've never done that...," but sadly, we all have. We get angry over things that do not matter. We sweat the small stuff. We yell at our kids and our friends and our spouses. People lose their jobs and are forced out of school. Parent's abandon their kids and children disappoint their parents. Our friends get into that car even though we know they've had to much to drink, and yes...sometimes our friends lose control of their car and destroy a family on New Year's Eve.

It's been said that we are the sum of all the people we've ever known in our lives and maybe that's why I am still going. Maybe that's why I'm still writing. Although I cannot remember many things from my childhood, there is still something pushing me to write and to speak and to talk about what I cannot recall. Maybe this was the way it was supposed to be. Maybe I was supposed to die when I was a child. Maybe I was supposed to die when my ex wife held that gun to my head, and maybe I was supposed to swallow all those pills in 2009 while all those voices steadily urged me to kill myself.

I release a book, and with it, I release myself. I release all those feelings that were supposed to have died within my trembling soul all those years ago. I know that this was what I was meant to do in this life. For so many years, I asked myself "What's this life for?" Now I know. It was to think and to feel and to smile and to laugh and to hurt and to cry and in so many ways, I've already loved more than I could possibly love in an entire lifetime, but I've also died a thousand deaths.

Each night, just me and my keyboard, the pain bleeds out of my hands as I write. All of those long nights have finally produced something of value. And with no cheers and no fan fair, I present to the world my Rumbling Heart.

Synopsis - Rumbling Heart

Here is the synopsis I came up with for my book. This is what will appear on both the Amazon and Barns and Noble listing. As soon as the purchase links are available, I will post them. Some of you may already notice the updated links to the blog. While I am getting things set, the book is not yet available, but will be in the next day or so. Enjoy.

Rumbling Heart Synopsis

After escaping the clutches of his abusive ex-wife, John finds himself living a rather dreary and reclusive life in Eureka, California. By choice, he works at a menial job where he gets paid very little, and barely makes ends meet. One day he comes home after quitting his job during an altercation with his boss to find a strange note taped to his door, instructing him to check his email. Letting his curiosity get the best of him, he checks to find an email waiting for him from the international conglomerate known simply as The Company. The email offers him a chance to secure employment with one of the most employee friendly companies on earth so without delay, he replies to the email and provides The Company with all of his personal information. Within minutes, he is contacted by phone and an interview is setup. As he gets additional information about the company, he is told about all the benefits he will reap once he is employed. One such benefit is so bold and unique that is takes him completely by surprise and because of it, he is eventually introduced to an emotionally odd, yet adorably quirky woman named Anna who is also employed by The Company.

As their friendship progresses, John is forced to look inside himself and reexamine his life as he and Anna’s relationship begins to morph and change into something much more than he expected. Weary of getting close to anyone, John struggles with his past, but ultimately decides to try to open himself up to new things, but little does he know, his new companion is hiding something from him that will rock the foundation of their friendship and send him into a tailspin of emotion.

He also unexpectedly grows closer to the beautiful and intelligent Human Resources manager Emily, his first contact within the company, who appears to have only his best interests at heart. As he begins to trust the bold and confident Emily with more, he finds that she too may not be who she seems. Soon, John finds himself in a minefield of mystery and deceit and over time, he finds he must either deal with the gatekeepers of secrecy or devolve into lunacy as his past continues to haunt his thoughts and his life.

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Acknowledgments

So since my date of release is looming, I decided to get together my acknowledgments page and I am trying to think of all the people who have helped me in getting this project off the ground and kept me inspired through its development. Some people are very obvious while others I am still trying to nail down. I am not putting people in it just to appease friends or family. I am looking for those who have offered some sincere insight into what I have been trying to do.

Looking back to the end of October when I just opened up Word and started writing with no real purpose, things have changed a great deal and some people have played a role in the completion of my book. It saddens me to think that there have actually been 2-3 people who have looked down on me not only for writing, but even for going back to school. I kept thinking to myself how awful their lives must be to find nothing better to do that to try and tear someone's dream down and make them feel as if they will never accomplish anything. Well, I am happy to say to those few people who hated on me...KISS MY ASS.

In less than a month, my dream of putting my work out there for people to read is going to come true, and to be honest, I don't care if i sell just a measly 10 copies. I will be happy to be read by any and all readers, and if my work can leave even the slightest impact, I will feel as if I have accomplished my goal. It's not often that people can see a life dream come to fruition, but I am thankful that it will for me. Obviously, any money I make off the project will be welcomed as I am still just a poor college student. I never expected to get rich off of this; all I wanted was to be heard.

Well, as the day draws closer, I am clearing my throat and hoping for the best. That being said, even if the best doesn't happen, I will never stop writing...I can't stop writing. My mind will never rest. I have accepted that. It is the reason I cannot sleep. I wake in the middle of the night after maybe an hour's rest and cannot help but turn on my computer and write until my fingers tingle with pain and fatigue. And the few hours I am able to sleep, the dreams never stop coming. They haunt me and speak to me and the voices carry on like a choir of musing. The inspiration surrounds me from all sides as if i am being pursued by a ghost of ideas as it desperately pleads with me to share it's ideas with the world.

I will always be that outcast and I will always be different from everyone else, and now I know why. I am who I am and I write what I feel, and the voices in my head will not rest. Ever. My legacy will be intertwined with my creations, and through my work, they and I will live forever.

Home, and My Company

I watch the breakers as they approach the shore,

Their frothy texture bubbling up

The distance exposes the horizon

My hand in his, and I feel home again.

 

Exceeding vistas caress my view

We go walking between the trees

The cherry blossoms, aiding my demeanor

Stroll along and smile, beside me, he breathes

 

The bustling rush and the crowded streets

Remind me of things I’ve grow tired of

While my work keeps me traveling, on the go

I long for serenity, a peaceful scene

 

Still I find myself missing this place

I’ve moved on to another

Quiet nights, and I watch him sleep

I touch his hand, and thank him for coming

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5th Day

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5^th Day

Cherry blossoms trickle down from the sky, and the grass is soft, lush, like a bed of down on a cool, spring day. I look skyward and speculate on the clouds before me, wondering what each one looks like. Trains and trollies, and teddy bears consume my being; the light, northern breeze kisses my exposed skin. My knees are pointed up and I feel as if I am being watched, in fact I know I am for I can see her out of the corner of my eye. She stares at me and wishes her wish of carefree days and endless nights, the pattern of bittersweet days having taken their toll. Her red hair sways out across her rosy lips as the wind plucks her lavish locks out from under her hand which attempts to hold their listless flight at bay. Her heart beats and rumbles, and her blue eyes glisten with sweet delight as she steps closer to me. Finally, I turn to her and our eyes meet, and startled shivers exert their force upon her shadowed visage. Her eyes show her grief and we both know I cannot stay here like this, relaxing in her silhouette for long. Four days and six hours have passed, and every waking moment we have spent together, and every moment in slumber she has been in my arms. I’ve read her mind, her thoughts melancholic, and I know her heart for she has told me of her incorrigible desire to keep me with her. We hold each other’s gaze as we listen to sounds of children at play, our unborn child still just a dream.

The breeze picks up and she sits down beside me to show me her cruel and lovely intentions. Her theft, of such brilliant and tireless devotion, was only the beginning of our unforeseen affinity, and the loss of such a strong defense was not bitter, but a welcome circumstance. Her company was not granted, but more a luxury, a state of which much due diligence had been paid. As I turn my eyes back toward the heavens, she joins me for the critical view, and I take a breath that precludes all fallacy of reason.

Revolver

Revolver

 

Unrealistic transformation, hidden revolver

Bursting bulbs, the lights, the tone will be fine

Cheers or jeers, I don’t care which

Collision into hindrance happens regardless

 

I look over to the mirror, dim luminescent glow

The colors I wear, dark and dazzling

I see my hair draping down and consider it fine

The rings on my fingers click against the crackling hiss deity

 

I look at the door, listening, that relentless vociferate

Repetitious existence, hundreds a year, yet still neurotic

Welcome thy dead souls, intrude my horizon

It’s what they expect so I exhale, and cry again

 

Enervating and worrisome, and loosening my grasp

The phantasmic ritual recovers memory, inception manifestation

I walk to the door and carry my affliction

They will all get to see what they paid for

 

Blind Unicorn

I cannot write the way I want to at this point in time. I can't sleep right and when I do it's for minimal 10 minute intervals. I am awake and asleep at the same time and i cannot break this vicious cycle of restlessness. I am inspired and demotivated, I am dreaming during my waking hours and the stories never stop writing themselves. They unravel and distort, the truth is cycling through me like a virus on steroids. When my eyes are closed I can feel a presence, but I don't know who it is. I hear a merry go round, but it only goes around in a hellish cauterizing and illuminating feverishness that binds my thoughts together with super glue. I have no feelings yet i feel it all, the weight of an audacious animal biting at my strength. I'm interconnected and losing my signal, I am running in circles without a set number of degrees as I travel in time that has suddenly stopped. I've just about had it and the taste of pomegranate sticks to my palette, these sleeping pills leave me in a daze. The dreams will keep coming so I better keep running, my pen attached to my finger tips is dripping of ink and it never quits. So write on I must and face the distrust of the human condition despite premonition. This can't be real.

Butterflies

“Dreams are like butterflies, fluttering through our minds while we recover from our lives. Their colors are rich and vibrant at times, and offer us a glimpse into an ideal world where anything is possible. Yet during others, their wings come caked with nightmare and sorrow, and look only to unhinge us from ourselves, leaving our souls faded, and stained with melancholy.”

-Olivia Shirai

Static and Silence

Static is all I hear and it might as well be silence. I’m not sure what it is I am listening for, but I know it’s more than this. Highlights and twilight beckon and I am not certain of very much anymore. Nothing new I suppose, confused incontinent mind unable to grasp my foreseeable future. My fingers spitting out toying words and subject matter of the 7^th degree; not making much sense as I deal with illness and dizzying tiredness. I've lost 6 pounds of water weight just today and I am not sure if I want to look at that as a bad thing just yet. I inhale bottles of the stuff, yet it melts off me as my mild fever comes and goes. I dress in layers, warm ups covering my legs and I even place the wool cap on my head, but I can never seem to get warm enough. Two blankets I place over my body. The one I feel on my torso is soft and comforting while the other is stiff, its material eliciting an itch which I cannot help but scratch. I toss it from my chin as my patience is beyond exhausted.

No longer can I rest so now I must write and express and tell stories no one will understand, but I write them anyway. Words keep coming, but no sense is assigned. Mindless and tired, sometimes we do things out of habit more than for survival. While not bothersome, my habit is never being able to let my mind sleep. Even when I do sleep, I am restless and my body tosses about on the bed till I am sitting on the floor once again harboring delusions of fanatic assumption. I crave sleep. Admittedly, I sleep to dream and dream I do, but my mind, forever writing its stories, battles my fantasies and forces touches of reality into them. While I imagine others sleeping and snoring and perhaps unknowingly smiling in their slumber, I can feel myself moving, twitching, unable to let myself relax.

At times, I cannot tell if I am dreaming or waking up. I force myself to become self-aware which is both a blessing and a curse. Blessing so forth, the knowledge of dreaming, exhuming the fossils of my nature and the demons of my past, yet the curse lingers. Knowing my mind is lurking and hiding reality from me, sitting, waiting to procure enough sentiment to cause my logic harm, I tread lightly and wait for the storm to arrive. Still, I cannot help but let this happen for dreaming comes much easier to me that the realism of the world outside my bedroom door, for in my dreams, I can create and write however I like without fear of prudence and judgment. In these dreams, I can see her and only her and she makes me feel normal and real and safe. Her hair long and flowing, her body small and almost fragile. I look into her and she stares back, looking into my nothingness and finding what is hidden and blackened by disdaining aberration. However long the night or complacent the façade, she tears it all down and reveals what is real and I begin to feel content. The opening of my eyes enemies my infatuation and need to be with her, but I know my time with her is limited, so I must revel in its glorious splendor.

 

Life is Sweet

Been staying up a bit later than normal. Trying to figure out why. Could also be that I am doing other things rather than writing. I wouldn't say it's a distraction, but it has drawn my attention from my routine which is not all bad. Maybe it's good that I am taking a step back from the book for a little bit so that I am not drowning in it, although I doubt I would.

I did manage to come up with a new idea. I had originally thought to retire the characters, seeing as how the ending could have been seen as a terrific and logical closure point. However, should the book take off, I have a feeling people will become attached to them and possibly want more. I am outlining the idea now and seeing where it takes me. The plot which I was thinking about for the last few days is pretty intense. The overall idea would have my main character stepping back into his past and exploring his decisions which ultimately led him to where he is today. It's a somewhat introspective look, taking aim at the butterfly affect and making people think about making one decision over another. As most of us have thought about at least a few times in our lives, the character thinks about how different his life would be had he chosen one seemingly simple path over another. It would be something as small as choosing to go out with friends one night or something as pivotal a taking one major opportunity over another. He is eventually given the choice to relive his past and with that, facing the prospects of a very different future.

Given the chance, would any of us make different choices in our lives? I feel overwhelmingly the answer would be yes. However, I think given ample time to take all things into consideration, most of us may back away from that choice and ultimately choose to stay where we are today. We all have regrets, some of us more than others and for fewer still, regrets so painful we'd do just about anything to go back and relive our lives. I have had parent's tell me that they'd want to go back and wait a few more years to have their kids or to have their children with a different person. Many don't realize if that change is made, it could have dramatic affects on other things currently in their lives, some positive and some negative. I was speaking on the phone to a friend of mine and i posed a question to her. She has children and I told her if she was faced with the painful choice of saving one child over another, what child would she choose and based on that decision, could she then live the rest of her life with that choice? As I am sure you are already thinking, it's a nearly impossible choice. To force a parent to choose one child over another is not only cruel, but for most, unfathomable. Sadly, there have been situations where a parent has been forced into making that choice. Obviously, this choice is usually made under an extreme amount of stress as saving the life of one person and damning that of another isn't something any of us would ever wish on anyone else.

In this idea, I am posing that question and forcing someone to make a similar choice. For some, this idea may damage the character while for others it will show a very human side to them. I think ultimately it will show that while reliving life and making different decisions may seem like the greatest thing in the world, it may not always be a viable answer. As a way of thinking about it, pose these various questions to yourself. Would you have chosen a different person to be with or marry? Would you have chosen one job over another? Would you have chosen to take that road trip out of town knowing that tragedy was waiting for you around the corner, while at the same time knowing that if you did change that decision, you would never have met the person who is now most dear to you in your life? Again, I volunteer that these questions are impossible to answer for most of us. It all leads back to that heart-retching question...would you choose that other child's life over the other if given that second chance? Would you choose to let someone else die if it meant saving the life of the other if you had a chance to relive that moment...

It's one hell of an idea. Thought provoking and almost unimaginable...but I am going to explore it.

 

Lose You

I am considering writing an alternate ending to my book. I know, somethings shouldn't be redone or rewritten which is why I am still sticking to my original ending...but as with a lot of things in this world, sometimes you just have to wonder how different things would be if you would have ended up taking one road over another instead of your chosen path. Sometimes you can't help but think what more could you have done to change a particular outcome. This line of thinking is irrational, I agree...however as i previously mentioned, sometimes you can't help but wonder.

In this alternate ending, something remarkably dramatic will happen and it will change the way the book is perceived as a whole which is why it will probably be written, but never used. I can't imagine doing this in a book that's had as many ups and downs as this one has had. If i were to end the book in this alternate way, it would leave the reader with a sense of loss and despair so to use it would be ignoring the point of why I wrote the story to begin with. If this writing is successful, would I ever release the alternate ending? I'm not sure. As I've mentioned in previous posts, I don't want to sully the legacy of the characters and putting the alternate ending out there may raise questions. You may then be asking "why even write it if you have no intention of ever using it?" Again, as I said before, sometimes you just can't help but wonder what life would have been like had one simple decision been different. If you had chosen to not go to a gathering or if you had chosen not to go out with the person who is now your spouse or the co-parent of your children. One simple decision can change the course of your entire life. In extreme cases, it can literally mean the difference between someone living and dying. Will someone else die in my alternate ending? I guess I will just have to wait and see where my "pen" takes me.

Holiday Gift

You know what the greatest holiday gift for me is? No, it's not the super special awesome wool cap I asked for or the gift cards i got. Sure, spending time with my family was great and while I do appreciate that, I have to be a little self centered here and say that coming up with the perfect climatic ending for my book is the best thing. I woke up today and it was all just there, as if i dreamed it all the night before. I was up at about 5am on my own, and not because it was Christmas because honestly, I don't really care too much for the holiday anymore. Yet on this day, I figured out the ending to my work and I couldn't be happier. It's so simple yet so perfect that I don't even have to outline it to remember. It's engraved in my heart and mind, so much so that you'd have thought I lived it. I have only one other person to thank for this literary bounty. Have a good holiday and be safe.

 

Chapter 19

The big build up is almost done. Chapter 19 turned into something I wasn't really looking to do, but it turned out really well. It had the main character conversing with two people familiar with his situation and one of them finally made a real impact on him. Chapter 20 has him doing something completely out of character for him and as he does it he is trying to figure out why and how it will all work out. 20 will also bring back our long ignored 2nd lead, but she will appear toward the very end of the chapter as most of it will be focused on the journey to her and not necessarily feature her. The 2nd major part of the storyline is to be written very soon and it seems my dreams have pushed another idea into focus. Olivia once again has sent a little nugget of inspiration to me and it makes the climax in 21 seem much easier to write.

The Sound of Silence

There was no school today. My day felt empty as it appears I have grown accustomed to always having somewhere to go and be. I woke up at 8am this morning which is an oddity for me. My earlier class used to be at 10am so I would usually set my alarm for 9am. Sleep is escaping me lately and my dreams are turning horrific for some reason. I am not sure why either. I was able to get a final done and I am sure I aced it so why was I feeling so out of sorts? I found myself in one of my books called All He Ever Wanted by Anita Shreve. I do love her style of writing, it's creative and clustering theme seems to rise and flow with the sea and it's character development is paced just right. I started the book in September, but shelved it as I was trying to concentrate on school for the most part along with writing my novel. The only problem I am having is that I cannot put a face to her characters.

Generally when I read a book, I can picture some one, sometimes an actor or a person I know and assign that image to the character so I can play the book as a movie in my head. I am having trouble doing this for some reason and I know it's not her fault. He book, while a little long, is terrific and it's keeping me enthralled. I keep thinking that writing my novel is in a way tearing at my soul. My sleeplessness is getting progressively worse as I am now having to rely on chemical methods to ensure I sleep a decent amount of hours. Without, I tend to toss almost constantly and when I do sleep, it's for perhaps 10 to 15 minutes at a time. I keep finding myself waking and looking for the clock, even though I do not have anywhere to be. In the event that I do have to wake, I always set my alarm, yet I still find myself waking up and looking at the clock. I am beginning to think that I may purposely start to face the clock away from me at night so that I may not give into temptation.

Through all this, there is no sound. It is eerily quiet and it almost disturbing. I used to love the quiet as it allowed me to read uninterrupted and there are times when I do play my music. In fact when I write, it's very rare that I do not have something playing. In the time I spend on my novel, I usually have artists like The Verve, Katie Melua, Kevin Macleod, Smashing Pumpkins, and of course Olivia Lufkin  playing lightly for me in the background. Still, from time to time, I hear nothing but silence and I find myself sitting and staring off into space.

 

Precious Things

As writers, we are often told that we lead a second life and that as we write we deal with our emotions of our real lives along with those of our "writing life". I couldn't agree more on this as I am finding it more difficult to separate my "writing life" feelings from my real life feelings. Take this novel I am writing. The first few chapters were fine, I was able to handle all the emotion quite well. However these last couple of chapters are the real heart of the book and it's getting very difficult to handle all of what I am writing. It's 100% fiction mind you, but to express the feelings of my characters I find ti necessary to take on their emotional baggage. My writing turns our great, however when it's time to turn off the computer and get some sleep, I find myself tossing and turning with my emotions working overtime. I know i am making too close a connection between myself and my characters, but if I don't have that connection, my writing suffers.

If anyone knows any techniques on how to keep my writing edge, yet be able to separate myself from the baggage that comes with it, that would be quite helpful.

Sweet Dreams

Apparently it's my turn to start dreaming of various different book and movie ideas. Tonights was a bit violent, the second one at least. The first was standard fair. And to better explain what I mean by "tonight" i was asleep by 6pm and got out of bed by 11pm, waking up several times throughout my "night".

The first was Olivia and I, but our topic of discussion was a little different. We sat there in a coffee shop and we were discussing her stress levels. I was offering her suggestions to help ease it so that her health wouldn't suffer. We sipped our drinks and looked outside, watching people walk by and go about their lives.

The second...was kind of insane. I assure you I am not some loony. This was just one of those weird dreams that's kind of unexplainable, yet interesting. I was with a group of time travelers and we would jump from different versions of out world, parallel dimensions. We were trying to find out way back to our world which mathematically speaking may be impossible since according to many scientists there could be an infinite number of parallel universes out there. The only way to force ourselves to move from time to time was to murder ourselves in our current time. Usually it was not difficult to find us, most of the time we found ourselves at home, school, work, etc. There were a total of five of us doing this. Myself, 3 women and another man. The man was about late 20s, one of the woman was a young girl, maybe about 15, then there was a somewhat younger woman about early 20s, then an older woman who was about 45. We had apparently been doing this for some time as we had become exceedingly good at quite literally killing ourselves. We usually hunted as a group to assure our success. We would hunt for myself and the other man...the other me and the other guy to be clear...so that we can move on to the usually easier female targets. As we hunted, we would surround the locations of our other selves and move in for the kill with precision. The other guy would usually break in and scare the other us, flushing them out of the house or into a place in their location where they would be trapped. Once cornered, we would without much talk execute the other us, then move on to our next target. We continued doing this for what felt like 50-60 times and of course we were never transported home after the final kill.

The logic told us that when we got home, we would not find our other selves and that we would simply know we got back because it would "feel" like home. Finally after another successful hunt, we failed to "jump" to a new dimension, thus ending our journey. Out of frustration and knowing we would never get home, we began killing each other. The other man killed the teenager and the woman in her 20 ran for her life. The older woman and the  other man hunted each other for what seemed like ages. Finally the man caught up to the older woman and shot her 4-5 times. While she was dying, he moved over top of her and began to chastise her, seemingly blaming her for our not getting home. While he was talking trash, she was able to lift up her shot gun and shoot him in the face, killing him instantly. I heard the shot and ran over to see what was happening. When i got close, the woman was still alive, but barely physically functional. I knelled down besides her and assured her I wasn't there to kill her. As I watched her die, i took her hand to offer her some comfort and told her that I didn't think it was her fault, that this was something bigger than ourselves. Sitting there I did not hear the woman in her 20s come back and put a gun to my head. I told her I was unarmed and had not shot the older woman or the dead man lying next to her. I told her that I had no intention of hunting her and that it was pointless for us to kill each other as it would never help us get home. Still cautious, the woman slowly backed out of the room and left again. I looked back down at the older woman to see that she had expired.

I walked out of a building covered in blood, almost in shock over the ordeal I had gone through. I fell to the ground and the woman in her 20 reappeared. She said she thinks she figured out how to get us home and it didn't involve murder. She sat next to me and held my hand as rain began to fall. The drops washed away the blood from the both of us and we fell to sleep. When we awoke we were home, sitting on a park bench surrounded by children and families having a good time there. We both knew we were home. We exchanged handshakes and vowed to never speak of the misadventure that we shared. We both turned away from each other and walked away.

Dream Camp

Ok, maybe the thought of finals coming up is getting to me, but my dreams have been weird lately. They were boring for a good portion of time, but last night and a couplf of night before...weird. Already wrote about the one a few nights ago, but last nights was...interesting.

Some how I am floating above a jeep while i control it with my mind...ya i know. Anyways, I am controlling this jeep, not very well i might add, and I am floating just above it. As i am driving it through town, I keep losing control of it and it goes crashing into other cars. I remember the feeling that I should just bolt, not wanting to take responsibility, but when it crashes I have this overwhelming feeling that I have to make sure everything is ok and that no one was hurt. Each time i go to look, thankfully no one is hurt and I offer help in case they need it from me. Each time the people i have crashed into are thankful to me for sticking around and taking responsibility. As soon as everyone is ok, I go off, controlling it again and a few moments later, another crash. This went on for a bit, till i woke myself up.

The second dream from last night was a little less exciting as Olivia was around again talking to me. We didn't say much this time around though as she seemed content with us just enjoying the night sky. We laid there on a blanket looking up, seeing an occasional cloud go by the moon.