There is No Antidote for Time

I had a draft of a post half-written, created some time back in 2020, updating on the previous year and how things had gone down. Needless to say, given that it’s now early 2024, things in my life did not go as planned, but I feel at least somewhat vindicated by the reason for everything going wildly off the rails.

I had to go back and read what the last published post had said, but I see that I did mention that my wife and I were expecting a child. Our daughter was born in May of 2019. We named her Savannah after the city that I’d fallen in love with. What we didn’t expect was for her to be born with a severe neuromuscular disorder that has yet to be diagnosed almost five years later. The doctors, having no predicate cases to draw from, estimated that she’d live a year. Two, at most. This May will be her fifth birthday, so she’s been beating the odds from day one.

I don’t want to get too deep into what life has been like over these last four years and change, but it has been difficult to say the absolute least. There is a unique and profound solitude inherent with having a child with a disease so rare that she may, in fact, be the first ever documented case of it. There is no body of research to reference, no prognoses to derive expectations from, and no community of other parents with children that have the same disease to lean on.

To say that this has derailed my grand plans to have the book finished by now is an understatement. I set out to finish the book in 2019, but that didn’t happen. I hoped to have it finished in 2020. I hoped that everything getting shut down by a global pandemic would give me sufficient opportunity to write. I earnestly hoped that I could finish it before October 2023, which marked ten years since I started writing it. None of those hopes came to fruition.

But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been working on it. On the contrary, in fact. I’ve never been closer to finishing it. I saw in my previous post that I had said I was targeting 125,000 words. Well, it currently stands at 144,842. I’ve blown well past my expected word count, but it’s put me in a place where I have approximately 4 chapters left to write. Ten years of work and I’m finally nearing the completion of my first draft. I acknowledge that there’s still a long way to go. A first draft is just that, and there will be several revisions that will be needed to get it to the final draft. Editing. Beta readers. More editing. There are still several hurdles to cross.

And yet, being this close to the conclusion feels like finally reaching the summit I’ve been climbing for those long and tortuous years. I’m finally at the moment that I’ve been working toward, the climax of the story and defining moment for its main character. Part of me has this sense of not knowing what I’m going to do once I write that final sentence. But again, I realize the work will continue, but the most arduous portion of it, the ‘getting it all out on paper,’ will be behind me. And that’s not nothing.

That’s all I’ve got for now. After all of this, I’m still here, and I will finish what I started.

–J.

Looking Ahead in 2019

Oh, 2018.

I’m a better man for having gone through you, but I am also quite happy you are done with.

This last year was one of the most challenging years of my life.  Don’t get me wrong, my first year of marriage was wonderful, but my wife and I faced things we never expected and certainly never would have asked for in our first year.  This included a couple surgeries, a cancer diagnosis for my wife, another surgery to address the cancer, financial struggles, and the typical growing pains of blending a family together.  The year also came with many blessings, including the news that my now cancer-free wife was pregnant.  We’re expecting our first child together (to go along with our two girls) in June of this year!

But on to the usual literary matters:

As I wrote in my previous post, the book had taken somewhat of a back burner.  This was due to the general busyness of being in a new marriage, building a new family, but also due to some severe writer’s block that left me struggling to bridge a couple chasms in my plot.

Over the holidays, my wife, kids, and I went to visit her parents in northeastern Montana.  It’s a rather remote place with limited connectivity to the outside world, so I deemed it would be an excellent place to try to break through some of the writer’s block.  Sure enough, I was able to fashion the bridges that could span the gaps in effective and powerful ways, and started pouring words into the project yet again.

Given this newfound spark, I’m setting some goals for this project in the coming year.  One of my resolutions is to finally finish my rough draft.  As it sits right now, the book is roughly 85,000 words.  I’ve targeted 125,000 words assuming that roughly 25,000 would be cut during editing, but I’m going to write as long as it takes to tell the complete story.  That said, I’m thinking   This means I need to write 40,000 words this year (which is roughly one third of the book; this works out well as I’m just wrapping up Part II.)

In an effort to help me stick to it, I’ve decided to start a Patreon page for the project.  On a weekly basis, I still see reviews and private messages trickle in on fanfiction.net and read of people who loved those stories and want to know about upcoming projects.  I suspect there may be a few who still follow this blog and eagerly await news of the book’s release.  Well, for those people who may want a more inside view of the project, as well as up to date information on its release, the Patreon will be a useful tool.  In addition, the contributions people make will aid me more than financially.  They will also keep me focused on writing regularly, providing updates, answering questions, etc.

If you’re interested in supporting me in this manner, please check it out here!

I will keep this blog updated from time to time, but the Patreon page will host most of my book related updates including some exclusive content.

I will finish this book and it will be worth the wait, that I can assure you!

–J.

What Happened and What’s Going On

A lot can happen in two years.

I look back at what life looked like two years ago versus what it looks like now and I can hardly believe how much has changed.  Let’s do a rundown:

• In September, 2016, I reconnected with Lacy, a gal I’ve known for years but had fallen out of touch with.  We started dating immediately.
• In January, 2017 I went to Montana to meet Lacy’s parents and spend some time on their farm.
• In April, 2017, I returned to Savannah with my sister; a last trip as siblings before one of us presumably gets married.  It was just as wonderful a trip as the first, and it bums me out that I wasn’t able to return this year for a third consecutive time.
• In July, 2017, I returned to Montana with Lacy and surreptitiously had a conversation with her parents about my intent to marry her.
• In September, 2017, the day before our one-year anniversary of dating, I proposed to Lacy.  She said yes!
• Two and a half months later, in December, we married in Hastings, MN.  It was the perfect day, surrounded by friends and family.
• I became a stepdad to two girls, aged 8 and 5.
• I moved into Lacy’s townhouse with her, the girls, a cat and a dog.
• I got promoted at work to a senior-level position.
• My wife had surgery for endometriosis and I had surgery to repair a deviated septum.

I’m sure there’s more big events I’m forgetting, but as you can see, it’s been quite the whirlwind.  So you’ll forgive me if it’s taken me two years to get back around to writing on this blog again.  I know some, maybe most, people assumed that my novel is dead, and I can understand that assumption.  There were times when I wondered the very same.  I still write every time I fly, and here and there on occasion.  But life has gone from a more relaxed pace, one where I could spirit away to my favorite coffee shop for a night of writing, to a more, well…. strenuous pace, where I’d love to be able to spend an evening simply working on writing.  Now, my evenings involve trying to get two girls to spend less than two hours eating dinner and down at a reasonable hour for bedtime with minimal amounts of tears.  Writing time is very hard to come by.

During the numerous trips we’ve taken driving to Montana, I’ve had plenty of time in the car with Lacy, part of which I’ve spent reading my novel to her.  Hearing her feedback is very encouraging; it’s a unique feeling to have someone you deeply care about respond so positively to something you’ve created.  I haven’t spoiled anything about how the rest of the story goes to her, and I don’t intend to, but she’s very invested in hearing the rest of the story.

I have every intention of finishing the rest of that story.  It will just take longer than I would have originally hoped.  So bear with me.

And heck, maybe I’ll start writing in here again.  Or maybe it’ll be another two years.  Either way, if something big happens with the book, it will end up here.  Of that you can be certain.

–J.

the Savannah recap; the topic of history

As Archer would say, “Oh, that is just so him.”

And it just classic me.  I make it seem like I’m going to be writing daily posts during my time in Savannah, and then I post one for the first day and that’s it.  Classic.

I’ll do my best to summarize my trip, with the help of my Instagram feed (images help jog my memory.)

Tuesday morning I walked to a nearby cafe called Clary’s which I had been looking forward to since I started planning the trip.  I had heard rave reviews about their food, especially breakfast food, so I dove in head first and got the crab cakes benedict.

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It was almost painfully delicious.  The walk there wasn’t half bad either.

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I can’t overstate how beautiful Savannah is.  Having been a few weeks removed from my trip now, I’m counting down the days until I can visit again.  I spent most of the week down there with the album “Struggle Pretty” by Penny & Sparrow on repeat, so every time I hear tracks from that album, it brings me right back down there.  (It’s an excellent album, by the way, highly recommend it.)

I spent a good portion of the day on Tuesday walking around the city, stopping here and there at cafes to do some writing, and soaking up every bit of feel and atmosphere I could.  Savannah is the oldest city in Georgia, older than the United States itself (technically,) and it has a mysterious air to it.  It’s quite haunting.  While there, I learned that it’s been dubbed the Most Haunted City in America, and I could definitely buy that, given its long and storied history.  Also, where else can you find a sight like this?

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I mean, that gives you a small idea of the kinds of sights there are to see down there.  Live oaks positively dripping with Spanish moss.  Buildings from before the country was a country.  It’s something else.

I ate lunch down by the riverfront (outdoors of course; I think I had maybe three meals indoors over the course of the trip.)  The riverfront area is specifically mentioned in a section of my book, and it’s something I wanted to make sure I captured well.  The geology and architecture of the area is something truly unique.

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The area in the above photo is called Factor’s Walk, and rather than explain it, I’ll let you Google it.  It’s unlike anything I’ve come across in all the cities I’ve been to.

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I walked this area thoroughly, taking mental notes, before sitting down and doing some more writing.  I didn’t make a ton of actual new-content-progress on the book, but I got a lot of invaluable research material.

I also ate a lot of really, excessively good food.  Tuesday evening’s dinner was at a place called Cotton & Rye.  It had the best rye bread I’ve ever eaten in my life.  I had several helpings.  I also had a Daddy Greenback (southern twist on a Manhattan) and sweet tea, of course.  These paired nicely with my dinner of fried chicken and mac ‘n cheese.

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I enjoyed this meal outside on the patio, with the nice accompaniment of an electric guitar player gracing us with some smooth tunes.

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Wednesday was a big research day.  I resolved to take a trip out to Cockspur Island, about fifteen minutes down-river.  A big chunk of Part II of WLAD takes place on Cockspur Island, so I wanted to get out there and actually walk the land and see the vegetation, landscape, wildlife, etc.

But first, I had a breakfast of biscuits and gravy, cheesy scrambled eggs, and cheesy grits.  Real authentic southern breakfast.

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It didn’t quite match up to the previous morning’s breakfast, but it was still delectable.  I walked around the city for awhile, including along the riverfront again, before calling an Uber to take me out to Cockspur.  Chatted with the driver regarding why I was in town and gave him the full rundown of the book.  He made sure to ask the name of the book and assured he’d keep an eye out for it.  Little encouragements like that are nice.

When I arrived on Cockspur, the first thing I wanted to do was explore the Civil War era fort that occupies the eastern portion of the island, Fort Pulaski.

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It was fascinating to walk the fort grounds, reading the placards that told various tales of the siege of the fort by the Union forces.  It did not fare well, as you can see in the image above.  After walking every inch of the fort, I ventured out to the nearby beach and walked it for a long ways, watching the crabs scuttle into their holes.  I headed inland, plunging into the maritime forest along a walking path.  I had no idea what kind of foliage would be on this island, so these couple hours of just walking around Cockspur were great for reference.  I even found a location that would be perfect for the facility that plays a big role in this part of the book and took a picture of it (which I didn’t post to Instagram, so tough break.)  All in all, my trip to the island was time well spent.

Back on the mainland, I did some more walking (seriously I walked something like 10-12 miles on Wednesday.  My legs were tired by day’s end.)  The evening walks were my favorite.  It really sets off the houses:

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I had a fried flounder reuben at the Crystal Beer Parlor for dinner (sadly indoors; can’t win ’em all) and then walked to the Gallery Espresso cafe, where I enjoyed arguably the best cup of Turkish coffee I’ve ever had.  They did it the real way, with a cezve (though they were missing the hot sand for boiling.)  It was great.  Sat and worked on the book for awhile.

Thursday, my last full day in Savannah, was probably the least “eventful” of them.  I actually spent a great chunk of this day sitting and writing due to my exhausted legs.  I had an excellent sandwich for lunch at a South African place the local’s swear by called Zunzi’s.  The picture doesn’t do it justice.

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I made sure to take a trolley tour in the afternoon to give my legs a rest.  The trolleys were open air and the tour was informative and included some actors in period costume coming onboard and speaking to us.  It was a great time!

That night I decided I had to eat a meal at the infamous Pirate’s House.  This old pirate tavern is the oldest standing building in Savannah.  Inside its walls are the original walls of the Herb House, which was built in 1734.  The exterior walls of the tavern aren’t quite as old, only dating to 1754, but it’s a very storied place.  It’s even been tied to the story of Treasure Island.  It was even visited by Edward Teach, better known as Blackbeard.  So yes, I had a meal in the same building that Blackbeard once drank at, which is pretty neat.

I made sure to cap off the trip with a visit to Leopold’s Ice Cream, another must-visit destination in Savannah.  Made sure to get their trademark Tutti Frutti ice cream.  It was a great end to a great trip.

https://www.instagram.com/p/BEe6TdLqhqw/?taken-by=jahelget

The next morning, I arose and tidied up the carriage house.  It had served me well as my temporary home away from home, and I remember as I walked out the door a forlorn feeling.  I hadn’t even left the city, and I was already missing it.

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I caught an Uber to the airport and flew home.

Savannah was wonderful.  It was a great week to get away from it all and spend some time along, work on my writing, enjoy some beautiful weather, breathtaking sights, and food worthy of becoming a glutton over.  I truly miss that place and I’m seriously aching to go back.

---

Not long after going back to work, my coworkers turned me on to a podcast called “Hardcore History,” which is narrated by Dan Carlin, who is surprisingly a journalist, not a historian.  I’ve found this podcast to be nothing short of riveting, in large part because of the storytelling prowess of Carlin.  I’ve enjoyed it so much, in fact, that it’s affected my personal writing.

For a long time, I’ve kind of shied away from working on the journal entry portions of the novel.  I think the story-within-a-story found in the journal entries is fascinating on its own, and could probably be its own book’s worth of content, but it’s always felt a bit laborious to write for me.  The main character is documenting a historical account of what has brought the world to its current state, and often does so in the monotonous tones (if there is such a thing in the written word) and styles of a history book.  Hearing how Carlin retells great stories from history to his listeners has caused me to shift my perception of the journal entries in the book.  It sparked a new creativity in their delivery, which will stand out in contrast with the earlier, more dry and factual entries.  Don’t worry, this transition actually makes sense in context of what’s going on in the book.

Last Wednesday, I went to my usual writing spot and churned out over a thousand words of journal entries, the largest chunk of single-sitting writing I’ve done in quite some time.  That amount used to be commonplace in the early days of writing this story, but as of late I’ve had my fair share of struggles.  Nevertheless, having my perception of storytelling shifted by Hardcore History has been a very positive change on my writing, and any spark is a good spark when you need to light a fire.

Here’s hoping for more momentum going forward!

There, I made up with my lack of entries with an exceptionally long one, by my standards.

–J.

down ol’ Savannah way: day one

Yesterday around noon I landed in Savannah, GA for my writer’s retreat of sorts.  I’ve never traveled alone to this extent.  When I travel for work, it’s always with at least one other person; usually more.  This is my first experience visiting a city in a far-off land in solitude.

Spoiler alert: it’s freaking great.

Savannah is a lush, hauntingly beautiful city.  The plentiful live oak trees are all gnarled and sprawling, with their limbs draped in clumps of Spanish moss.  It’s the oldest city in a very old state, and that storied history permeates every block, square, park, and monument within.

Check-in at the carriage house I rented wasn’t until 4pm, so I took an Uber from the airport right to Mrs. Wilkes Dining Room, a famous local lunch spot in the middle of the historic district.  The Wilkes family has run a restaurant out of the lower level of their home since 1943, only open for lunch 11am-2pm daily.  It’s such a must-visit destination that President Obama stopped their for lunch on a trip to Savannah (they have the chair he sat in set aside with a ribbon on it; incidentally, I sat at the table the president ate at.)  It’s certainly a unique experience.  Everything is served in communal tables, family-style.  The wait was over an hour, but it was worth it.  Once you get in the door, you sit down and the food is waiting for you on the table.

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Since I’m traveling alone, I got seated at a table at which I was easily the youngest by 25+ years.  My lunch guests were friendly and talkative; communication is key when you’re passing around plates of collard greens, mashed potatoes, rutabaga, mac and cheese, creamed corn, and so much more.  The main attractions were the fried chicken (best I’ve ever had, so much flavor,) barbecued pork, and beef stew.  They brought fresh biscuits, steaming hot from the oven.  A glass of sweet tea awaited me at my place-setting.  Once we had had our fill, they brought out small dishes of banana pudding with chunks of banana and crumbled Nilla Wafers, and I also got a piece of blueberry pie with ice cream. It was delectable, and we all left very satisfied.

After lunch, I still had about an hour until I could check-in, so I walked over to Forsyth Park, which is a block away from where I’m staying.  It’s the largest park in Savannah,  and a bustling center full of pedestrian traffic, runners, bicyclists, dog-walkers and whatever else you can think of.

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I sat on a bench and enjoyed the beautiful weather, light breeze, and pedestrian traffic until 4pm, whence I sauntered over to the carriage house at which I’m staying, punched in the door code, and walked upstairs.  It’s a comfortable studio apartment situated above the stall they used to park the carriages in.  I tried to look inside the stall but they blocked the door.  Cannot confirm whether there’s a carriage within or not.

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It’s a great space for a little solo getaway for a week.  Once I got comfortable and situated, I’m pretty sure I closed my eyes for about a half-hour (I got up at 4:20am to make the plane, cut me some slack.)  Afterward, I walked through Forsyth to the far end, where there was a coffee shop I found on Google Maps called the Sentient Bean.  I got a “giant” iced coffee and took a seat outside.  I’m hoping my lunch yesterday will be the only meal I eat indoors on this trip.  I sat and wrote for an hour or two before deciding to walk to dinner.  A couple friends of mine who had visited Savannah recently recommended a place called the Treylor Park.  It was over a mile’s walk, but that’s no big deal in a city like Savannah.  I welcomed the stroll!

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The scenery was hard to beat.

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That jasmine smelled so good.

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I reached the Treylor Park after my leisurely stroll through downtown Savannah and immediately headed to the beer garden out back to start my eating-all-meals-outdoors streak.  I took a seat at the bar, ordered a local IPA and the Nachos Grande (we’re talkin’ waffle fries covered in fried chicken, bacon, country gravy, cheddar cheese, pickles, and balsamic gastrique… I know, they were amazing.)

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My father told me about his trips he’d taken in the past, solo vacations not dissimilar to this one.  He’d gone to Amsterdam and London, if I’m not mistaken, which is a bigger culture shock than goin’ down home to Georgia.  He told me he loved the solo trips because they forced you to meet the natives.  Sure enough, while sipping my beer, two ladies my age sat down next to me and struck up conversation.  Their company, as well as the bartender’s jovial nature, made the dinner much more enjoyable.  I finished the meal with a Georgia Mule (local twist on a Moscow Mule) sipped out of a copper cup, as is tradition.  I said my farewells to the ladies and we went our separate ways.

The walk back to the carriage house was peaceful and the air had cooled nicely.  I opened the windows when I got inside in hopes of getting it nice and cool while I slept, and turned in for the night.

I’ll probably summarize today’s goings-on later tonight, or perhaps tomorrow, but for now, I’m gonna get back to working on the book.  So far, Savannah’s everything I hoped it’d be!

–J.

a milestone; a forthcoming journey

After what feels like an eternity, I finally lurched past the 80,000 word mark on WLAD.  I don’t feel like rereading my previous posts to figure out how long the last xx,xxx words took, but I’m sure it’s longer than it should have taken.  So it’s a milestone, yes, but I have a hard time celebrating it.  It’s been a long, hard road.

I mentioned in my previous post that I was thinking about taking a trip to Savannah.  After that post, I did indeed start looking into it, and eventually decided to book my flight and my lodging.  It’s officially happening.  A week from tomorrow I’ll be taking off for five days in Savannah, GA.  The main object of the trip is to get away from everyday life for awhile, to spend some time in a city that’s featured prominently in my novel, and to write.  I’m hoping to spend the lion’s share of each day writing, preferably outside at a park bench or outdoor cafe.  I’m looking forward to experiencing a new city, eating a lot of good southern comfort food, and soaking up the old antebellum atmosphere.  This is my first solo vacation.  I’m very excited.

I’m also a bit apprehensive about it.  I want to get a lot of writing done down there, but my momentum as of late has been worse than a snail’s pace.  In preparation, I’ve been attempting to outline the rest of what has to be written.  I know, I know, I’m sure you’re like ‘you haven’t outlined the story yet?!?’  And, well, no.  I haven’t.  I’ve always written without a formal outline.  Sure, one’s always existed in my head, and clearly that has its limitations (as I’ve been learning of late) but on previous writing projects, the lack of an outline hasn’t hindered my progress or writing quality.  It would appear I’ve found the limitations of living that reckless writing lifestyle, so i’m trying to rectify that situation and give myself a clear path forward so that once I get down to Savannah I can hit the ground running.  Here’s hoping.

But yes, I’m apprehensive, yet excited and hopeful.  I’m planning on it being a great trip.  This week I’m going to come up with a more formal itinerary as far as places to visit.  I’d like to stop in at a few different coffee places, bars, restaurants, etc. so I’m going to get those lined up before I get down there.  Should be a good time!

I’m thinking I might journal my days down there on here.  I guess we’ll see.  Keep your eyes open for it!

–J.

Feedback

A couple months ago I had a friend of mine who’s studying psychology take a read through of the draft in its current state.  I still remain just under 80,000 words (my pace has not quickened) and my momentum couldn’t be much lower.  I thought it might be worth injecting some outside input to at least reassure me that I’m on to something and that what I’ve written not only makes sense but is, you know… good.  Also, the fact that she studies psychology was helpful because I told her I wanted to pay extra attention to the characters.  Are they likable?  Heck, are they even relatable?  Do their interactions seem natural?  Do their actions and interactions make sense?  All of these were questions I needed answers to, so I sent her a draft of the story before she left on a trip and waited to  hear.

Once she returned, I reached out and checked to see if she had finished reading it and if she’d be available to meet up and discuss it.  She had, and was rather excited to talk about it, which sparked a bit of excitement within me.  We met at a dive one night after she got off work and over the next couple hours she gave me her feedback.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief.  It took her two days to get through what I had written, and she loved it.  She felt especially connected to the character of Rebecca, which I expect readers will do, but I found it reassuring that she was actually able to relate with Declan.  I figured that due to his personality and general demeanor as a cold, disaffected guy who rarely emotes would alienate him to some readers, which I’m okay with because the other characters can fill that void.  So it was good to hear that she was able to feel a connection with him.

She said the ending of Part I brought her to tears.  I exuberantly pumped my fist when she told me that, since I was hoping it would be an emotional conclusion to the opening third of the story.  I won’t go into detail over what happens because spoilers, but her reaction was exactly what I was hoping for.

She also expressed intrigue regarding the journal entries that pepper the chapters, wherein Declan gives his account of what brought the world to its current condition.  I’ve been working hard at pacing the entries and making it a slow reveal, though I’m sure some readers will put the largest pieces of the puzzle together rather quickly.  The journal is going to play a more significant, deeper role than a simple historical account, but that doesn’t manifest until Part III, which I didn’t have started at the time of her reading it.

In addition to hearing her reactions to certain sections, I also learned a few things about characters I had written.  Characters I thought I knew back-to-front.  This was probably the best part of the experience to me, realizing I had written subtext into certain relationships that not even I had picked up on.

I thanked her sincerely for the feedback and we went our separate ways.

All in all, this feedback session was great for my outlook on WLAD.  It triggered a run of weeks where I actually wrote a fair amount.  Inevitably, though, that momentum didn’t last as long as I’d hoped, and yet again I find myself without much forward motion at all.  I’ve been entertaining ideas on what I can do to spur myself forward.

One thing I’m heavily considering is taking a few days off from work and flying down to Savannah, GA to spend a few days in the city.  Part I of the book takes place in the Savannah River Valley and Part II takes place in and around Savannah, so I figure it’s a place I should actually experience firsthand.  I would get to soak up the antebellum atmosphere that seems to permeate throughout the entire old city, and that’s just the impression I get from photographs.

Why did I pick Savannah?  I’m originally from Atlanta, GA, and there’s a facility in Part II of the book that takes place in a research base situated on the coast.  Savannah, being the largest coastal city in Georgia, was the natural choice.

Anyway, I don’t have any real reason not to take the trip.  I could use the vacation.  I have a significant amount of airline credit due to giving up my seat on a flight a month or so ago.  I have loads of PTO saved up.  Basically I’d just have to plan the trip, find a hotel and a means of transport around the city, and then line up something of an itinerary.  There’s a few places specifically I’d like to see, but I imagine I’d just spend a lot of time writing, outside, sitting at cafes or benches in the parks.  It might be nice to talk to some of the locals about the city.  And drink some sweet tea.  In the summer months my mother still makes a pitcher of that every day.  Gives me more motivation to pay them a visit.

So all-in-all the trip wouldn’t cost me too much money.  I’d get a chance to get a feel for the city in which a large chunk of my book takes place.  And I’d get a chance to sit and write for extended periods of time.

I’m gonna go try to nail down dates…

–J.

Slogging along

Ugh.

Over the last several months, I’ve been seriously losing steam.  I’m lucky if I write once a week now.  The further and further I get into WLAD, the less confident I am that it’s going to amount to a story worth telling.  At first, the words flowed from my fingertips, and it wasn’t uncommon to write a few thousand words at a time.  Nowadays, I’m lucky if I wrap up the night with a few hundred.  Needless to say, it’s rather disheartening.

I’m not even entirely sure how to come back from these doldrums.  Part of me thinks I should just drop the section I’m working on where it is and move ahead to something more engaging or exciting.  I might do that. I’m a habitually linear writer, as in I prefer to write chronologically, front cover to back cover, rather than jump around and connect things later, so jumping ahead now doesn’t seem ideal.  On the other hand, if I’M having a hard time getting through this section, I can only imagine it won’t be any better for the reader.

The problem is that it’s a fairly important section for character development, as some very significant things are hinted at that will become more significant later on.  This section is critical, so how can I make it engaging and interesting given its seemingly monotonous nature?  I don’t have the answer for that yet.

I think poor planning is to blame for a lot of my struggles.  I had, and still have, the overall story in my head.  The story arc, the big revelation and climax, all that jazz. I know what they will consist of.  I just don’t know how to get there.

Two years.  It’s been two years of working on this and it’s become more of a burden than a joy.  And I’m feeling the temptation to just walk away, or to shift my focus and just release it in a different medium than a full-length novel.  Maybe three short stories or something.  I don’t know.  But this isn’t working.

*sigh*

–J.

Been Awhile

Four-month gap in posts… blech.  I’m sure a few of you are wondering if I’ve just completely fallen off the map.  Well, I’m still here.  I’m still working on We Left As Dust at least a couple times a week.  Life is busy, and I wish I could make writing more of a daily routine, but at this point I just can’t swing it.

Since I’ve been away from this for so long, I reckon I owe y’all somewhat of an olive branch of sorts, so at the end of this post, I’m going to publish another excerpt from Part I of the book.  Proof that it actually exists beyond the first paragraph!

I’ve been learning an awful lot through the experience of writing this novel.  For one, it is hard work.  The amount of respect I have for other writers has continuously grown, especially those who are capable of churning out 10+ books. I just can’t fathom having that much content in my brain.  Secondly, there’s a lot of things I would probably do differently, starting out.  I can see the value of programs like Scrivener that let you keep detailed notes of your story’s outline and characters all within the same piece of software you use to write.  Given that I’ve been working on this book in conjunction with two friends writing novels in the same universe, there needs to be some amount of networking involved, which makes using something like Scrivener difficult.  Another thing I’ve learned… or maybe something I’ve just been struck by… is how much a story changes from its original inception.  I started writing this story about… twenty months ago, and it has changed a lot in that amount of time.  Some of the tentpoles of the story remain unchanged, but so many details, so many character traits and idiosyncrasies exist in a nebulous, ever-changing state.  I imagine the editing phase will provide me with the best opportunity to solidify them.

Anyway, I want to get back to it, so I’ll make good on my promise and post an excerpt from the book.  This is a much, much longer one than last time, and is an important scene fairly early in the story (I think it’s in chapter four?) where the main character, Declan, meets a fellow survivor named Rebecca (these two characters make a cameo in Aftermath: Part III, if you’ve read it!) The meeting, like most in the world of WLAD, is tense and uncertain.  Hope you enjoy it!

He left the can in the embers and returned to the cafeteria, kicking himself for forgetting to grab a fork.  Upon retrieving the utensil, he returned to find the fire as he had left it, but the can of stew nowhere to be found.  The rain was falling steadily outside, the noise of it hitting the ground nearly drowning out the crackling of the wood of the old chair.  He studied the floor and saw wet footprints leading from the crevice to the fireside, and then towards the gap in the wall into the next room, fading along the way.  He had no idea how he had missed them on his way to check the fire.

Declan drew his gun and scanned his surroundings.  The flickering fire cast long, dancing shadows on the dark walls.  Corners were black holes, and he had left his shake light in his pack.  Slowly, he crossed to the adjoining room where his pack sat on the table.  His eyes darted around the room as he crossed over to the pack, which was curiously still full.  He took inventory of his items, reassuring himself that they were all still there.  They were.  This mysterious intruder had apparently only been after the food, which meant either they were a terrible thief or were still in the building and didn’t wish to provoke him any further.  A sign of trust, ill-advised these days.

He took a seat on the chair and took aim at the door into the hallway.  If someone were still here, they were somewhere beyond that door, and not likely far beyond it.

“Come on out,” he said loudly, trying to hide his anxiety with what he hoped was convincing cool-headedness.  No response came from the doorway.  The only sound was the rain lapping at the windows.  After a minute, he tried again.  “Let’s not do this.  Just… come on out.”

The barrel of the gun emerged from the darkness in the doorway first, a black, menacing steel eye.  A pair of dirt-smeared hands followed, clutching the grip of the gun without the slightest hint of a waver.  The hands were attached to well-toned forearms, upper arms sleeved with vaguely blue fabric, and eventually a pair of shoulders.  Finally the intruder stepped fully into the light.  To his surprise, it was a woman.  She had long, dark brown hair pulled back and tied up, tactically, not fashionably.  Drops of water gathered at the ends of locks that had evaded the hair pin.  Her face was adorned with the coldest green eyes he had ever seen, sharp cheekbones, and a stern jaw.  She wore a heavy, dirty denim shirt rolled up at the elbow, spattered with stains and dripping with rain.  Dark green cargo pants covered a pair of military-style boots.  A canvas messenger bag was slung over her shoulder and hung at her back.  She looked every inch a survivor.  Declan kept the barrel of his gun trained on the space between her eyes.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” he asked.  “You had a clean shot from the darkness.”

She looked at him incredulously.  “You hadn’t given me a reason to.”  He detected a noticeable southern drawl behind her attempt at concealment, the sort of which Declan had never picked up in his time living in the south.  Hers was a native accent.

“You one of them?” he asked, assuming she knew his meaning.

She looked down at her clothing.  “Shit, do I look like it?  Hell no.  Never.  I’m Remnant… every inch.”

“Good,” he said.  After a moment’s pause, “You take my stew?”  A hint of a smirk appeared at the corner of her mouth in answer.  “Thought so.”

“Look, what say we lower the guns?” she asked tentatively.

“Why would I want to do that?” he replied.  “You ate my dinner.  People get killed for less these days.”

She shrugged.  “You’ve got another can.”

He hesitated, studying her curiously.  “Not of Dinty Moore, I don’t.”

She let out an exasperated sigh.  “Look, man… I’m sorry I ate your dinner, I was fucking starving, okay?  Now can we put the guns down, please?”

He slowly began to lower his gun in synchronization with her mirrored movements.  They each holstered their weapons and were left facing each other, hands hovering at their sides, not quite ready to stray from the holsters.

“You got a name?” she asked.

It was Declan’s turn to be incredulous.  “Why?”

“Jesus, man, lighten up.  Yeah, world’s gone to shit, but we’ve still got names.  We’re still human.  Some of us, anyway.”

He stared hard back at her, contemplating.  Eventually, he relented.  “Dec.”

Her eyebrows rose.  “Dec?  That short for something?”  He offered a blank stare in reply.  She walked over to him and extended a hand.  “Bec.”

Skepticism crossed his face.  “Bullshit.”  She kept her hand extended to him, and he looked at it for a few seconds before remembering the gesture, then shook it briefly.

She smiled.  “Rebecca.  I thought Bec might be more your style.  Bec and Dec, right?” she chuckled, then halted, disappointed at his lack of amusement.

So there it is.  I should post a disclaimer that this is raw, unedited first draft, so it is absolutely subject to change (and also subject to incorrect spelling and grammar…)

Hope you enjoyed it!  I’m still here, book is still in process, and I’m bad at writing blog posts in a timely manner.

Until next time.

–J.

And so it continues…

How prescient.

The end is nigh.

–J.