Behind!

I've used up my cushion of words. I went off on vacation and didn't write more than a page or so, and that hand-written. Should I have brought the typewriter and disturbed the entire campground? Should I have been more disciplined with my time? Should I stop "shoulding" all over myself? Probably. August 6th has not yet passed. My class gets its final on Tuesday. I'll have some time to write. I know the routine: set the coffee maker on auto, get up at 6, stumble to the studio, tie seat to chair, put words on page. That's all it is. words on page without worrying about quality. I think I can do this. It's ten days or so. Much can be accomplished when the deadline is at had. Hell, I used to put together a 52 page tabloid sized weekly with a staff of four. More importantly, I've had support from those reading this. Thanks a lot. I appreciate it. Truly.

Past 55

I passed the 55 page mark and the story seems to be taking different turns. What had begun as a lark is turning sinister and darker. Still not sure where it is going but the last time I looked, the main character ran out of the house naked. He is running from everything. Running from the life the Intuitor has taken him into. I'll see what happens tomorrow morning. Thanks for keeping up.

Week One Ends, Week Two Begins

I'm still at it, going at five pages per day of 400 words per page. I've 45 pages as of this morning. Morning seems to be the best time to write, and drink coffee. Fourteen cups this morning. The problem with Rough Draft is the lack of toilet facilities. Being male has a certain advantage. The characters continue on in their own ways and something major is about to happen. Don't know what it is, but it is. All hell is about to break loose. I'm sure of it. If I can keep up this rate, I'll be able to meet the deadline. Typing on a manual typewriter has been exhilarating as long as I don't look at the massive number of typos per line. I hope I can make head and tail of it on the rewrite. With classes running down the next few weeks, I should have more time to get more done. The cool weather has been a welcomed blessing. Keep in touch.

Success from Rough Draft

So far so good. Twenty-five pages to date, with 400 words per page. Do the math. The story is progressing word by word without any real direction. Merely words and a main character and such. Since I"m composing on a manual typewriter I won't have anything to share until the second draft. For those who haven't composed on a manual typewriter, you should try it. No carpal tunnel when the keys have to be forced down for an image to appear. Great for the hand muscles, and great for the typing skills as well. Every typo, every misspelling, every spatial error shows up. To some this could be humiliating, to others merely humbling. For me, I don't look at the page at all, but hunch over the typewriter keys and pound away. I am not quite sure what is coming out on the page. I don't look at it at all. At least not yet, that's for the second draft. And the keyboard layout is a bit different as far as the apostrophe's and double quote marks and the tab key, the rest is still the old QWERTY. I'll let you know more of how it's going if you are interested. If not, then ignore the blog.

Off and Running- Almost

Day after tomorrow it begins. I mentioned that I was about to embark on a new project-an absurdist novel of 50,000 words written in 30 days. I know it will be rough, even with a family vacation stuck in the middle of the 30 days, as well as the closing off of the summer IVY Tech term, but so what? Are there not always extra activities, etc.? Duties, delays, and what-not? Tomorrow is Sunday, and I can get most of my IVY tech stuff out of the way. Then comes Monday morning. Six-thirty and the coffee pot goes off. Then to the Rough Draft for a really rough draft. On the Voss typewriter I need to complete 5 pages. Coherency is not a requirement. Nor is spelling. Nor is grammar. Nor is a decent plot, dialogue, or anything else. What counts is word-count. I don't know when I'll be able to respond again. If I have good days, I'll report that. If not, I'll be sullen and unresponsive. The Gummi bears are praying for me. At least the ones not devoured. They have formed a monastary of sorts. Finding little robes to fit was a problem until they realized they could get their outer layers wet and then roll in lint thus taking on the feel and appearance of velvet. This also keeps them out of mouth's way. Every now and then tell me that I can do this. I will need moral support. Thank you.

A new mileu

Okay. I'll try to write dead-pan humor. Like I tried to do once about gummi theology. Or the comment I gave to Jess a moment ago. Humor is good as long as it has a bite to it. Slapstick is painful and can't be delivered over the internet. You would have to slap yourself and then fall down on your own banana peel. No surprise there, and why would you want to. I could comment on the world around me that doesn't make any sense at all, as if no one was paying attention to what is going on. Like where do women get nylon quilted jackets that are grey in color and fit too tight and are only worn by people who look like they have used up their lives? I never see those coats in any regular store. Are there special stores that I don't know about? I realize I seldom go into a woman's clothing store. I'll walk all the way around in Target so I don't have to look. Maybe it's because of a bad memory of having to sit quietly and watch my mother try on dresses at a really nice department store. Or that my sixteen year old son alwasy points out the bra and panty sets that I hope the girlfriend he doesn't have never buys and wears, at least with him knowing about it. Quilted nylon with snagged stitches aren't found there. Where are they?
I tried to write humor and I think it flopped. Like telling a joke from the pulpit. Tried it once and the listeners were too polite to laugh, but then they were trained Lutherans.

Stretched too thin

Lately, I've been feeling stretched thin. Teaching duties, parental duties, and now, preaching duties (the second and fourth Sundays at St. Paul, Otis, IN, east of Valpo) has been impinging upon writing duties. And the writing has been neglected for the past three days, which means It'll be all the more difficult when, on Wedneday, I finally get back to the novel. The last time I was at it, little came out other than the feeling that this was all very insignificant. Yes, that's the word I entered into the journal, insignificant. I suppose what I'm looking for is someone whom I trust to tell me that it is significant and that I am skilled enough to finish the first rough draft by Sept. 8 (the anniversary from when I began it).