Category: Daily

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The Strategy of the Final Days

I’ve found myself relying on the artwork of others to catalyze my morning writing over the past years. In recent weeks it seems the only way I’ve written anything compelling. I thought there was going to be a conclusion to that, but I guess not. Smile.

A fortnight ago I’d talked about making the final one hundred days special in some way. I think I only mentioned writing the same plot for that hundred, but at the time I was mulling other possibilities too: write for an actual full hour, set a page/word count threshhold, learn to touch type. Those sorts of things.

Well I missed being able to do the full hundred by a few days, and I don’t know for sure when I’ll be able to start—probably Monday. I am going to combine two of the above. I am going to pick a single plot and I’m going to set a word count threshhold. I haven’t locked in either one of those specifically, but it has crossed my mind to crescendo my word count each month or so during the remaining time.

Some of the most likely threads are: Partly, Charming, Shanty, Bringer, Hartwhile, and Crainestock. I’m not opposed to others, but these came quickly to mind. If you’d like to plead you case for one of these or another one not mentioned above then leave me a comment below.

234 words on day 902

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I Coulda Bought a Falcon

So, I’m writing after nine on a Monday evening. Cue the suckiness…

http://thecountryfucker.tumblr.com/post/11628133203/six-string-samurai

He had big knuckles and thick fingers, and it made no sense; he was a deft guitarrista. He taped the ear pieces of his Buddy Holley glasses a month back before a show in Toledo when the left side lost a screw. The right was fine, but the symmetry appealed to him. He chose a pair of black over white Spectator shoes this morning, and they already showed wear than he liked but not more than he could handle—not today. In between, he rocked a hobo’s canvas tuxedo with worn cuffs top and bottom. The uchigatana was freshly sharpened, and he was drunk.

And getting drunker, because desert was a lonely place for a performer.

127 words on day 899

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Yesterday and Way Before That

I should do some planning.

Or maybe some transcribing…

20101121 – I’ve been thinking more about plotting lately. How many times have I written that bullshit?

Maybe if I appended “…Bringer of Mist.” at the end of that sentence it would help some. Fortunately it happens to be true. I have been thinking of it. I haven’t been doing it, but have been thinking of doing it. I had a lot of stuff there. Some good intra-family conflict that could scale well I think.

Mr. Johnathan Goffe fails to save his brother-in-law from the Bringer of Mist and because of this his sister hates him, Or something like that at least. When he decides to go find the Bringer of Mist (don’t recall why) he discovers that the Bringer of Mist is his brother-in-law. The previous Bringer of Mist and the brother-in-law switched or the brother-in-law inherited the role for some reason. There are plenty of permutations available here. I should consider that most aren’t storiable.

Ah, yes, he went looking for the Bringer of Mist because no one was dying. He discovered not only that his brother-in-law had taken over but that he had refused to perform his duty for some reason.

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I’ve come down a different permutation since a year ago. I think I ended up with something I like better. The Bringer of Mist is Johnathan’s older brother, and he has inherited the mantle of Bringer of Mist from his father. His first act of bringing, a ceremony with aged volunteers and their sponsors, he selects a number of tinkers and unexpectedly brings Jennetta’s husband, Warren Harrfield, who was there in the capacity of a sponsor.

280 words on day 898