18jun16 changes

Submitted my first story for the writing class. The original plan was to write three stories encompassing my childhood ending up till joining the navy.

Turns out the class is so full only two stories can be submitted this semester. There's also the fact I did a trilogy before. It was kind of limiting and suffered from structure issues when not properly planned out.

So...the first one's on wattpad titled "summer sixty seven" along with the three I did the previous semester under "megans tale"

The next story is about an older man trying to find love but struggling with his preconceptions a out a woman. Shaking my head here. I would prefer it take place on a space station but...

Not literary fiction. Smile.

30May16 Perspective

I've lived in New Orleans almost twenty years now. That's twenty sweltering Summers with me bitching about the heat.

Every year I wonder how people three hundred years ago managed to not only survive but thrive in this place. 

No air conditioning, no indoor plumbing; hell, I'm ready to kill most summers and I have both of those!

Except for today. Circumstances force me to see things from their perspective.

The kitchen sink has been clogged for a few days dispite my best efforts and I'd resolved to get the plumber round tomorrow. The last week or so I've been doing dishes and dumping buckets of water out the back door.

last night the air conditioner started throwin off sparks. It's down for the count, its eighty degrees inside right now.

I guess I'm bitchin, but not really as its not as miserable as it sounds. It even feels survivable. Everybody is still coming over to eat and watch movies and instead of cranky mymood is reflective.

I guess it all comes down to attitude sometimes. You can't change shit do why sweat it? 

I know, puny.

22May16 update

Roughly one more week before class starts. Like I mentioned in the last post It's another fiction writing course, this time online. I'm tryin to get ahead of the game this time by starting my three stories early.

The program frowns on fiction writing of a non literary type so fantasies and science fiction get no traction.

My plan was to continue my Maple Leaf series, an extension of the three I did last semester but sort of a prequel. Wanted to base the stories in the early days of the complex, nineteen fifty five or so.

That led to childhood memories of growing up in rural Ohio. I felt it a more appropriate subject matter for the stories.

Now trying to remember those times is stirring up so many memories. Momma, daddy, my friends; I can't even remember their names anymore. Wild how closing the book on some things mentally an be so effective. Also how emotionally charged those memories still are.

The first story is loosely based on my first experiences with violent death, around age ten or so. I'll post it when finished.

06may16 summer, vacation?

Not this year. Southern fiction writers here I come. Class has been physically over since last Thursday but I mailed in the last final today. Now I get two weeks or so before the summer session.

I bitched all semester long about school but the prospect of having no mission disturbed me. I'm glad I'm going this summer.

28APR16 Almost Light

One more class to go, teaching composition. Have to do a presentation on the viability of teaching a writing course using a multimedia platform. Rough five minutes where I tell the class about my plan to use wattpad as a teaching tool. Then a ten page paper for her about the whole process.

I got much more out of the class than I expected. I can see why teachers love it so.

Had the last Ascetism and Decadence class a couple hours ago. Still have to submit a final of about eight pages and a final essay of ten to twelve. Oh my god the writing in that class! Learned tons there too but my mind is so fried from the philosophy! The last works are on Oscar Wilde. Every line he wrote makes you stop and take about five or so minutes to think on. No more thinking. More drinking!

May be a slight chance I'm going to summer school. One class, southern Literature. Shouldn't be too bad, some pretty good writers I'm guessing. Thought hard about just sitting the summer out but an idle me is no good. I just think and drink and whine. Lol

21APR16 updates

In the final stretch here. One more teaching presentation and a final paper and the spring session is done. Meeting with Dr. White shortly to decide on a thesis for the paper.

Either the treatment and status of women in Victorian England as presented in Dorian Gray, or the artist/critic muse relationship in the same piece.

Submitted my last short story Monday with a harsh but fair review.

I was required to write three short stories for the class but decided to write one three part story instead. That decision opened up a world of problems.

I hadn't properly planned the whole thing out so ended up trying to make the latter parts mesh with the first story; nota smooth outcome. The end critiques involved all the flaws in the structure that needed fixing. My professor did tell the class

 "this work is ambitious and good piece of creative work that's too big for the writer as shown by the lack of craftsmanship. But, craftsmanship can be taught! Not talent."

I come away a much better writer, aware that the things I leave out as obvious are important to enough readers to include them, also that I can write. I always tell myself that but it's nice to hear it from others.

Prince is dead! Damn, there ain't even nothin else to say to that shit. I mean I found it almost unbelievable and I wasn't even that big a fan. I recognize genius when I see/hear it.

I found myself watching as the world got on with its business. It stopped for nobody I saw here on campus. I realize this is a surface view, I've no idea of their inner lives and concerns. I just felt an overwhelming sense of indifference, like the same non reaction will present with my own demise.

A dark, selfish thought. Too much alcohol lol.

13APR16 little glimpses of God

 As I was leaving the school across from my house last Saturday I was approached by an elderly gentleman. We were there voting on yet another tax increase but kind of drifted into conversation.We spoke of the political shape of our country, details of which I won't bore you with.

Eventually we joked about our age. I told I'm I'm about as old as him and he pointed out he was eighty and had a daughter my age.

What I'm driving at is how much he impressed, no, inspired me. I marveled at this man so mentally sharp and full of life. I could feel the power coming off him and the pleasure he got from just living on this earth.

I have a tendency to whine as those familiar with me know. I also tend to think too much about everything and not act nearly enough. Lately it's been over getting older and running out of time. I feel I've wasted it and there's not enough left to accomplish anything.

That gentleman reminded me to live, that I could easily be eighty like him and to stop thinking, worrying, and make it count.

I guess my point is God talks to you all the time. It's not always through prayer, some times it's people.

I'm reminded to listen, to be present and pay attention.