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stabbott
Wow, that last entry was a long time ago. Hmm. I'll have to do something about that. Forgive me if I take most of my entries to Private, as I'm working thru actually writing this book. My goal is 15-20 hours of writing per week, maybe actually getting the first draft done in a couple of months. Then comes the dreaded rewrite. I know one of the major things I need to rewrite is putting the musician and addict into my work. I think I'll just finish writing as I've started and worry about that stuff

Current Mood: determined

I remember dying. I remember moving through a tunnel with a bright light. I also remember the vibrating calliope shattering the light, causing my brain to ooze through any orifice it could, leaking out my ears and eyes. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t think.

            I also couldn’t hear. I felt a rumbling that I couldn’t figure out that seemed to be coming from a tree. Trees don’t speak, do they? I shut my eyes, shut out the world, tried to reboot the computer inside my brain.

            It didn’t work.

            At least, not totally. I was able to reboot my brain enough so I could see and hear and it made sense. I opened my eyes and the tree spoke to me again. This time I could understand the question. It asked me for my name. What was my name? Where was I? Why did I have this uneasy feeling that I wasn’t where I was supposed to be? And then I opened my mouth to answer the tree, I discovered I forgot how to speak and all that came out was a low groan.

            Of course, that might have something to do with the fact that I ached from every pore I owned, even the ones in my hair. It felt as if the bed I was in was made of dirt and grass. Course, that could explain the tree talking to me.

            I focused a bit harder and found a man sitting under the tree. He kept calling me ‘Angel.’ Was that my name? Some memory that refused direct acknowledgment told me no, it wasn’t my name, but it wouldn’t tell me what my name was. All that came through was “Jack.” I tried to say it, but it came out as a croak. I shook my head, trying to clear it a bit and immediately the calliope threatened to overwhelm me again, dragging me back into the chaos that finally started to make sense.

            When I opened my eyes again, the man was still there against the tree. He seemed to be looking at me curiously, as if I had said something he hadn’t expected.

            “Angel, I sure am glad to see you. Your daughter really misses you, and so do I.”

            Angel? I’m not an angel. My name is . . . what is my name? Why can’t I remember my name? Isn’t that a fairly fundamental thing to forget? The spring sun warmed me, playing against the breeze that whispered over me into the leaves. I moved my hand, testing my muscles. The voice sounded again, softer and making a question of the single word. “Jack?”

            “Did I say that out loud?” I thought.

            “Okay. If you’d rather answer to the name ‘Jack’ than to your own name, I can do that. I’m really sorry that you can’t recognize me. Of course, if you’re in the park like this, you can’t be well. Are you high or something? That’s okay. I’ll help you regain your health. Let’s go see your daughter, shall we?” His hands plucked at me, trying to get me to sit up. I opened my eyes wide with alarm – that hurt – and a low moan that was half groan, half scream came rising out of me. And then I remember floating on a sea of blackness. Time had no meaning here.

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I'm reworking my original outline so it's now a mystery. It was supposed to be a mystery to begin with. This makes it really interesting. Also, I'm finding a lot of original notes that I'd forgotten I'd written. Some of these notes will be really good in this book. Now, I need to get busy and write it.
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3 books I'd take with me on a 3-month long vacation for one, somewhere hot and sunny. Okay. Maybe not so hot or sunny, just mildly temperate and beautiful. I'm photosensitive (light sensitive for most of us) and burn really well. And I get sick in the heat. So...........back to the books.

I've just about decided that I'll take an empty sketchbook to record what I see and what I'm thinking; it just needs to be a really big book. Three months is a pretty long time. So that's one book.

The second book would be one of my design books that I bought, read one chapter of, put aside and haven't touched in 3 or so years. So that would be a great time to actually read it and absorb what it's teaching me about design principles. With the sketchbook I'll be able to make notes and even work on some designs. Since I wasn't told I couldn't take my knitting needles and yarn with me, maybe I'll even come back from my vacation with a sweater or two that I designed.

The third book is a bit of a sticker. Do I want to take a fiction book I'll read in 2 days or a textbook type book that I need to study? Some days I really hate remembering what I read......I know. Maybe I'll take The Fuzzy Papers by H. Beam Piper. I've wanted to try to animate the book and 3 months sounds like a great time to do preliminary sketches and work up a screenplay.

Okay, so that's not really what was asked, but that's more than likely what I'd do. If I were allowed 1 book more, I probably would take my Bible, because almost every style of writing is represented in it. Also, it's a good piece to think about and meditate on. But that would be pushing my limit, I'm sure.

Current Mood: contemplative contemplative

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okay, so I'm new to this. I'm sure you can tell. I got this for my writing class/community and yeah, about my writing. It might go faster if I actually started practicing it every day, do you think? I started to look at previous incarnations of my working story and discovered something kinda interesting: I need to rewrite everything to make it all work together. Just like adding a new body in the house, everything's kinda off routine for a  little while, same in my story. I changed one thing and now I need to trace it and figure out all the implications. Life is grand - sometimes adventure, sometimes irritation, but always grand..................

Current Mood: working

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