/begin random thoughts
I’ve been offline more lately than is usual. Well, I say offline but really I am still online, I’m just staying focused on the tasks at hand and not doing as much Twitter as people are accustomed to seeing from me. That’s because I’ve been writing.
The whole point of this stuff is to write, get published, sell some books so I hope you’ll forgive my absence and silences as the muse takes me, roughs me up a little, and ties me to a keyboard.
* * *
I tend to be a planner when I write, but not a traditional planner – at least, not so far. I plan in my head. Sometimes, I will take months if not years to think about something before I put a single word down. Other times, I will think about something for a few hours, know what I want, where I want the story to go and then I sit down and write. Not particularly the best way to do things, but there it is.
This past weekend, for example, I just had this idea hit and there was no way it was going to stay in my head for any length of time. So I sat down Saturday morning and started typing. By end of day Sunday, I had 9800 words down and Cord Cahill, space cowboy, had been born.
More on that later. Promise.
* * *
You rock, dude.
Why turn that over to someone else? I admit, it was my baby. I started it back a while ago to help drive some traffic to the Functional Nerds site. But spotty accessibility at work (I put those together during lunch and the firewall sometimes blocks me/times out when I try to access the site) meant that the posts were becoming few and far between and when I get home from work, my priority is to churn out entertaining writing with an eye on publishing.
So, something had to give.
Luckily, Scott was there to pick up my slack and has been doing a great job. Thank you!
* * *
One icebreaker is enough. You don’t need to eat two at a time. Seriously. Stop it.
* * *
A lot of people get pocket dialed. I don’t know of many who get baby dialed. I get baby dialed, have for years.
Quinn has let both of his sons play with his cell phones and as such, I get baby dialed.
The other night, I got a call from him, answered it, and heard his youngest ‘la la la’ ing while Quinn, in the background, said things like, “Who’s a baby boy? Who’s a baby boy?” or some such.
It was funny. I should’ve recorded it…
* * *
My aunt and uncle sent me a stack of comic books out of the blue.
You hear those stories, ya know? About how people move into a new house, head up into the attic, into the crawlspace or the basement, and come across a dusty box shoved into a corner or nook. They dig the box out, blow the dust and dirt from it and wonder what sort of treasure they may have uncovered (or whose dead pet).
Upon opening the box, they find a mint condition 1st appearance of Superman, or a copy of Amazing Fantasy #16. Suddenly, they are rich. All because of the box of comics left behind by someone who is probably kicking themselves.
…these weren’t those comics. These were some Captain America’s from the early 90’s.
/end random thoughts