November Sweeps - Day 645

Daylight Savings Time ended, and hey, I got an extra hour to write or edit or blog.  Or surf the internet, right?

I felt like I had been given an extra hour (it was even more than that, since I woke up before my alarm went off), and I used it to . . . shoot, what did I do?

Oh, I did go ahead and publish "Underdecorated," that short story I was hoping to get in before Halloween (and just in time).  Big gave me multiple options as far as text on the cover art went, and this is the one I chose:

Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In November: 722

It got dark EARLY today.  I had resolved to go on my hike today, because it was in the high fifties outside, but darn, by the time I got in my car, the sun was already setting.  So, do I do the hike anyway, knowing that the second half will be in the dark?

I did.

A great man once said, “If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything.”*  And so I went there anyway, and did what I set out to do.  Despite the chilly fall weather, I worked up a good sweat by the time I reached the summit, and was passed quite easily by two other hikers.

As I went up and up and up (it turned out to not be nearly as long a hike as I thought it was; not even two miles up, but boy, you feel it, especially early on), and it got darker and darker, I worried about the foolishness of walking around at night.  But thousands of people hike it every year and only between six and seven hundred of them do not survive.**

About halfway up the mountain, I saw the silhouette of a couple who had climbed a rock formation to look at the city lights and make out.  I think it would be extremely uncool to take a picture of them, so I did.

By the time I got to the top (I went all the way, because my body kept suggesting I turn around and go back), it was fully dark.  There was no one else up there with me, and I could hear coyotes yipping and baying not far off.  I drank some water, put on a YouTube video (there was still cell service, even up there), and started back down.

It is dark and hell is hot.

To my surprise, there were still many people climbing up that I passed while heading down the trail.

The view at the top was pretty rad, if you don't mind me using that word.

Heck, it was rad even if you do mind.

Push-ups Today: 100
Push-ups In November: 782

I was listening to a podcast with an author (I thought I’d check out at the library) as the guest, but it really, really turned me off.  The hosts were writers, and at one point, they brought out some of their earlier writing to read on the show and make fun of.  I guess I could see that being funny to some, but to me, it was just death.  The author started complaining about people who write “he said” and “she said” after lines of dialogue, and how amateurish that is.  “When you write, Betsy walked into the living room and saw Tom sitting on the couch.  ‘What are you doing here?’  You absolutely don’t need a ‘Betsy said’ there.  The reader knows.”  

Well, I could not have disagreed more vehemently.***  She may be a professional writer, something I’ll never be, but she’s certainly not an audiobook narrator.  There’s nothing worse than having no idea who is supposed to be speaking (okay, there are worse things—like when the writer forgets the name of a character—but you know what I mean), and I always prefer too many “Betsy said”s to too few.

Still, I wondered if I shouldn’t have paid close attention to the podcast, hoping to glean useful tips to becoming a better writer, rather than just turning it off in anger and disgust.  Sure, somebody could learn a lot from reading their old writing and pointing out why it doesn’t work, but not by poking fun of it in the round.  I’d much rather teach a class where you point to something that makes people laugh, or think, or feel scared or sad, and ask the students to analyze why it works.  But hey, I’m not a best-selling YA author.

After the pitiful performance of yesterday, I forced myself to go all the way through to the end of "Here With My Childhood Friend," and boy howdy, did it suck.

I wrote the story as a tribute to my dead uncle, and I can guarantee you that if he were here right now, and read the story, he would say, "I died for THAT??"

But you know what, I wrote it for him, the feeling was heartfelt, and eff it, I'm running it on my podcast.  Some people say "It's the thought that counts" and some people say "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions," and one of those two groups is made up of assholes.  Guess which one I'm going to side with.

Words Today: 290
Words In November: 5879

*I’m not really sure who should get credit for this in BACK TO THE FUTURE.  Marty says it at the beginning of the movie, quoting Doc Brown, and then says it to his father in 1955, who says it to his kids in 1985.  I boy never loved a dog the way I loved BACK TO THE FUTURE.

**Okay, that was a lie.  But still. 

***I think there’s just as much chance of the reader thinking it’s Tom asking the question as Betsy.  If two little words can ensure that nobody feels that confusion, why not include them?