Talking the Smoking Writing Tired Workhouse Blues...

... or something.

Let's just start this with the obvious. It's nearly 8am, I've been up since 4am, and I'm really tired. But I worked out this morning... which means I'm completely deranged, so...

As of this Monday, I'll have gone four weeks without a smoke and we're closing in on a month. People said it gets easier... when is that, exactly? When does it get easier? Cause I would smoke the business end of a pencil if I had a lighter... I'll tell you this, though. Quitting smoking leads to infidelity, loose morals, and prostitution. Cause I'm finding just about anything with a cigarette attractive and if I had to ... you know, to score a Camel, well...

In the meantime, I'm losing my mind.

I'm working a lot, though.

Today, I should have the first rewrites on With Eyes To See completed. After that, Billie's going to have changes for me - for where I got the "cop stuff" wrong. (It's a horror novel; it has "cop stuff".) Then, Vicky's going to have her proofing changes. Ugh! It never ends!

This weekend, we're heading out to Arizona to hang out with Billie and her husband, Dan. On the way, we'll be hitting Route 66 to take some pictures. This will help me with the book I'm presently writing, No More Blue Roses. (What's with these four-word names, anyway?) It's kind of an indie road-movie and I want to get a feel for where they're going. I've hit the 20,000 word mark and the timing of our trip couldn't be better.

People have asked what I do when I'm not writing or acting. Well, that's when my brain is following its own tangents and coming up with, what I can, Pieces. Pieces are just jokes, observations, short bits that can be thrown into some future project. They'd handy. So, I grabbed a bunch of them this morning for this book, including the immortal (as of last Tuesday):

Think of it this way. Look up above at all the stars. More stars than you could ever count. And around those stars, even more planets. Odds are there's more life out in the universe than we could ever imagine. Life that has evolved beyond pettiness and despair and sorrow and pain. And yet, they are far beyond our reach. All we have is each other. And we suck.

So, I take those pieces and, when the mood strikes me, I stick them in.

It's a lot like sex, in a way.

But without another person.

Mental masturbation...

ANYWAY, I'm also making progress on Ken 3.9. This year, I'm working very methodically, which is good, and slowly, which isn't. Here's how that gets done:

1) I spend a long time writing it and it still turns out painfully unfunny.
2) I rehearse it and rehearse it and, finally, record it... but it comes out painfully unfunny.
3) I go through the recording, editing out my coughs, burps, stutters, stammers... and still it's unfunny.
4) I change the vocal effects and add cues and bumpers.
5) Then, I send it out, hoping it's not painfully unfunny...

Now, on top of all those projects, Vicky and I are still sending Vampire Society out into the world. Vicky really believes in this book. Sadly, literary agents lack belief.

You can be a good writer without being a lucky writer. Personally, I'd like to be a lucky writer... but that's just me.