.Rish's Ramblings: August Sweeps

Tuesday, August 10, 2021

August Sweeps - Day 556

I'm really dedicated to writing today, having come to the library twenty minutes early (well, I wasted five minutes getting a soda on the way, but I hope you'll allow me at least the number of indulgences of an obese sheik in the desert somewhere). The first thing I did was open "Hatchling," which I had set in the same town as "Into The Furnace," only to realize that I had accidentally set it in the same town as "Birth of a Sidekick" instead. I made a couple of changes, switching Trueno to Bendo's Furnace, and the school mascot from the Lightning to the Firebirds. The last change I needed to make was to replace Arizona with New Mexico . . . but I didn't. I figure that Bendo's Furnace, New Mexico became Bendo's Furnace, Arizona when New Mexico Territory stopped being a territory.

I don't know how much it matters--the towns are made up anyway.

Regardless, I really like that story "Hatchling," and I ought to get it published, before the end of the year, or before you and I are both dead. Sooner than you think, Grandpa, sooner than you think.

Gosh, that reminds me, I sat down to record the second half of "The Last Friday In December," the next Dead & Breakfast story on my list, two days ago, and I got to one of those ____ bits in the narrative. Oftentimes, I'll insert a blank line when I'm writing so I don't get distracted and stop writing because I'm trying to figure out a name or location instead of continuing the narrative. It's then up to me, months or years later, to figure out what goes in the blank space.

Yes, I went there.

In this case, it was a blank for the town in the Dead & Breakfast stories where the hospital is. I talked to Marshal Latham about it one time, since he actually lives in Idaho, and I believe he suggested the hospital be in a town called Nampa.

Of course, I had forgotten this, and didn't know how to scan the previous stories for a town I had forgotten the name of. Finally, I just made up another city name, this one named after another co-worker I was friends with at the job that I named a lot of the characters and details after when I wrote the first story ("True Ghost Encounter"), but probably have never named anybody after before.

I also had this same damned problem when I referenced the overnight housekeeper at Noble Oaks Bed & Breakfast, though all I had to do there was search for "housekeeper" in the various stories until I found her.

The point is, though, after all this, I had eaten up almost an hour of free, quiet recording time, for a chapter that will be, once edited, only ten to fifteen minutes long. And then, my nephews got back from fishing, and man, that was all she wrote. This is why I can't have nice things, folks.

Sit-ups Today: 75 (sorry, somebody was sleeping on the couch when I got home from my cousin's, and I didn't dare sneak in more exercise)
Sit-ups In August: 1008

Still at the library, though the shadows are getting long outside. There are seven people up here with me, and if I EVER finish this gosh-darn novel (sorry about the language, guys), I'd like to write a bunch of quick and easy short stories, maybe one about a bunch of people trapped at the library when the aliens (or zombies, or Great Old Ones, or giant tarantulas) come. I love stories like that, don't you?

Unfortunately, I got distracted (what else is new?) and started looking over old posts of my blog, and that killed an hour. An hour closer to death, I am, and have only managed 70 words today.

But hey, I'll get to at least 500, come hell or slightly-yellow water, you'll see.

Push-ups Today: 50
Push-ups In August: 1155

My sister has a big house at the end of a block in the town the Lara and the Witch sequels take place in. And she has what she refers to as a potato room--but I refer to as a crawlspace--underneath her kitchen and living room, which is a dark, cramped section of the house not tall enough to stand up in, but perfect for putting Christmas decorations and winter clothes and deformed children . . . until you need them.

My sister never goes down there, but has been generous with me to store old action figures and such. Really, almost everybody has been generous to let me store my thousands of figures in various places. It's a sickness, I'm beginning to suspect.

So, the other day, my mother freaked out about the number of boxes I was keeping in her basement (which is understandable), and demanded that I get them out of there, either by renting a larger storage unit (not a bad idea, though I have upgraded once already), or a grand bonfire in the desert somewhere. So, trying to be proactive, I loaded up ten boxes (might have been eleven, might have been nine) and took them to my sister's house, to put down in the crawlspace.

And the lights were out down there.

So, using the light feature of my phone, I pushed each one of those boxes into the back of the crawlspace, trying not to focus on the darkness all around me, the shadows that could be hiding just about anything.

I want to write a story about this . . . but did I mention my sister insists on calling it "The Potato Room?"