Rish Outcast 187 Good Neighbor, Good Hands

As you know, Bob, I finally released my second book in the Lara and the Witch series.  It's the sequel to "Like A Good Neighbor," called (for some reason) "You're In Good Hands."  

If you'd like to purchase the book, it's available in text HERE.

Or, you can buy it in audio HERE. 

Or, there are versions with both stories HERE and HERE.

To download the episode directly, just Right-Click HERE. 

To support me on Patreon--hey, you would've heard this last month!--Left-Click HERE.

Logo by Gino "Urine Good Hands" Moretto.

Note: This was originally published as Rish Outcast 185, but I was two behind.

December Sweeps - Day 319

Well, somehow, it happened again.  I'm not sure how something like this can occur, but I lost all of my work from yesterday.  

I was at the library, and I wrote a blog post, and forced myself to get a thousand words in on what I'm calling my outbreak story . . . and during the night, the system rebooted, and I lost it all.  I normally have a backup in WordCounter (which has saved me a time or two), but that only has Saturday and Monday's work in it (for some reason).

This is empissening, believe you me.  So, I not only have none of the work I did yesterday, but I don't even have the word count for it.  And I thought I was being so smart working on my laptop instead of the library computers.

Ugh.

Push-ups Today: 108
Push-ups In December: 836 

Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In December: 1694

In brighter news, Gino sent me updated art for my book, and wow, I'm thinking it's the best work he's done for me.

He says it's not quite done--more work on the shading, but I like how much creepier it is than yesterday's version, and wish I could make covers that look that good myself.

And that means I need to get this published.  Hold me to it.

Words Today: 1275 (that's more rewriting than I did originally)
Words In December: 14,649 

December Sweeps - Day 318

I worry that a lot of these blog posts come across as quite bitchy.  "Wow, that girl isn't even wearing a mask.  Guess when you're that pretty, you don't want to insult God by covering up His excellent craftsmanship."  

You see, when you're raised in a religious household, one of the things you spend your whole life getting over is the hypocrisy of being told that a good Christian constantly judges others, and holds his head up high knowing that the gate to Heaven is open to a select few, like you . . . despite some dude two thousand years ago saying that we should judge not lest we be judged.

I will never get over that, if I live to be fifty.

But I don't mean to sound so judgey.  I just don't understand how someone can come to the library, go up to the "Quiet Floor," and then talk loudly on their cellphone.  Or how someone can come to the library, go up to the Quiet Floor, and then take their mask off and set it next to the sign that says "Masks MUST be worn at all times."  I am aware that I am not one of the winners in life, and I genuinely want to know how somebody like that thinks . . . in case I want to write about it in my secret notebook someday.

It's hard, as I keep saying, to write a blog 316 days in a row.

Last night, I did my allotted 107 push-ups, and then sat on the couch eating ice cream and watching "30 Rock" again.  I awoke at just after five am, groggily dragging myself off the couch, turning off the TV, and going to bed, where my computer was still set up to record another couple of chapters of "A Sidekick's Errand."

I have done pretty well with the daily writing this year (and especially the icky daily blogging), btu I could have done better.  I could've written more (instead of starting strongest in February, and it all being downhill from there).  I could've finished those dozen or so stories I started and then abandoned partway through.  But even if I had, I still could have done more.  You can always do more.  Unless you're the gosh-darn Alien Sanderson, you can always do more than you have done.

Let's remember that as we start a new year.  If you accomplished your goals today, whoops, now it's morning again, and you have to start over at one

 So, Gino sent me an update on the "My Friend of Misery" cover.  This is how it looked this morning (which for Gino is late two nights ago):

I think it's well on the way--just needs a bit more shading on the kid's hand.  Gino said he was going to do another pass to make it scarier, and that thrilled me, because, as good as it looks, I did want it more obviously Horror, rather than JUST an E.T. parody (which is what it is).

Spoiler alert: he's already worked on it and made it even better.

Sit-ups Today: 150
Sit-ups In December: 1594

I have to admit that my damned headache came back again today.  My nephew came home from school with a headache yesterday (his first day back post-COVID), and never recovered enough to go to school today.  It has to be the same thing--I'm just in better shape or having lighter reactions than he does.

That reminds me: on Sunday, we were told that my Uncle Len went to the hospital.  He felt bad and it got severe enough that he called his brother George, who just came home from a month-long stint in the hospital for a quintuple bypass (that's five-times, kids).  First it was my Uncle Ed, then my Uncle George, then my future brother-in-law Aaron, then my Uncle Len.  

I am fortunate to only have a headache and a very small wang.  Wouldn't you say?

Words Today: 1000
Words In December: 13,374

December Sweeps - Day 317

We had snow today.  It was quite beautiful.  There, I said it, now it can go away for a few weeks.

I ran to the storage unit and recorded my sole Christmas song, before my morning alarm even went off (it went off as I was setting the phone on the tripod--thankfully not a minute or two later), and so that is a relief I no longer have to think about.

Marshal Latham sent me a list of ten questions after listening to the audiobook of "You're In Good Hands."  It made me super happy to hear his questions, and as much as I'd like to set aside a whole episode of my podcast to answering them, I'm thinking that nobody else would find that entertaining, much less want to pay for that.  I'll try to figure out a fun way to answer the questions, most of which, sadly, have answers like "Um, not really.  That just sort of happened by accident."

Still, I'm pleased that he wanted to talk about it, and as I quite like "Like A Good Neighbor" (enough anyway to have already written a sequel to it), it would be neat if other people liked it too).

I had been listening to an audiobook from the library for the past month or so (maybe longer, since I started it when I was still going to the cabin, and had it out so long I couldn't renew it and was paying late fees on it), and yesterday, I decided it wasn't worth it to go through to the end.  It wasn't badly written, and was wonderfully narrated by an English guy, Euan Morton, but a bunch of the characters were cats, and they were just nasty, toxic characters.  Granted, I have a bias, but if Klingons ever acted the way the cats did in this book, I'd be siding with the Romulans all the way.

So, I returned the book, despite being on Disc 14 of sixteen.  I then grabbed Tina Fey's "Bossypants," which I've owned for years and never read, and was laughing within the first two minutes.  Really, really good stuff.

I've no doubt I wouldn't have picked up the book had I not been rewatching "30 Rock," but I've always been impressed with her shamelessly geek-friendly comedic stylings, and with her book, I have not been disappointed.*

Sit-ups Today: 150
Sit-ups In December: 1444

Push-ups Today: 107
Push-ups In December: 728

Words Today: 1451
Words In December: 12,374

*One thing that's hard for me to get my head around is how much personal, embarrassing stuff is in her autobiography (of course, this is coming from somebody who blogged about trying to do sit-ups with a hemorrhoid and wrote an entire story about pooping himself at the Junior Prom), which of course endears her to me, despite having a mother whose name is, I kid you not, Zenobia.

December Sweeps - Day 316

I didn't manage to get any more recorded last night.  I had intended to, but I've been tired these last few post-COVID days.  It's possible that I'm not entirely recovered.  I tried to do my full run the last two nights, and only managed half the first time, and a third last night.  It didn't help that it was in the twenties outside, though.

We went to the mall yesterday, and it was the busiest I've seen it this whole year.  Of course, it's a Saturday before Christmas, so people will be out, but it's still strange to see, so many folks in masks practically pressed up against one another.  They had a Santa Claus in the usual place (I vaguely remember seeing Santa there myself forty years ago), but he was in a sort of glass enclosure, like an aquarium, and people could pose for pictures standing in front of him . . . like this were a zoo.

"Please do not feed the St. Nicholas"

There was a sign (I should've taken a picture of it, it was so gross and brazen) that said, "Happy COVID Christmas!  Get a picture by Santa to remember this unique and once-in-a-lifetime holiday season!"

That's hard for me to get my head around, but hey, I'm not the smart guy in the room right now.  Even though I'm alone.

My nephew (13) has been charged with reading and answering questions about "A Christmas Carol" for his English class.  I picked up a big hardback copy of the book for him at the library (he wouldn't read the PDF of it I sent to his phone) and his parents have been reading it to the kids at night.  Now, neither of them are professional audiobook narrators (not like Renee Chambliss, I mean), and it vexed me to hear them stumble over the text, so when my sister asked if I would read them a chapter, I jumped on it.

It was my favorite chapter too, the second stave with the Ghost of Christmas Past.  I did the voices and went as fast as was humanly possible, but the boys were bored out of their minds, and jumped around and teased each other throughout, to the point where I punched the oldest in the face and made him read all the Ghost's lines in a faux-English accent.  After that, he paid better attention, but I was surprised by how ponderous the text was.  I guess I'm used to movie versions or Patrick Stewart's recitation (which was a holiday tradition for me in the Nineties), but not only was it way wordier and harder to comprehend than I had remembered, but my favorite part--the bit with Scrooge's fiancé (who we call Belle for some reason)--meant absolutely nothing to the boys, despite me crying in anticipation of those most dire words in literature: "May you be happy in the life you've chosen."

But ah well.  It means something to me.

Sit-ups Today: 150
Sit-ups In December: 1294

I'm editing the last chapter of "My Friend of Misery" now.  I've be-otched a little bit about how long it is and that it's not very good (at least I have now), but it would be nice if it were well-received, and people clamored for a follow-up, because it really could continue from there (it was originally a Part One where Brielle was fifteen/sixteen, a Part Two that takes her to her first year of college, and then it ends, but there could easily be a Part Three that takes her through school and marriage and motherhood, I dunno).  

It is pleasing to me that I have so many projects lined up to release and revise and record.  If idle hands are the devil's workshop, then it's good to constantly have more to work on, more to focus on, more to aim for, more dreams to dream.  

Words Today: 348
Words In December: 10,923

Sunset Poem

Back in September, I shot a video of the sun setting over the lake, and tried to find words about it.

Maybe the silence was better.

December Sweeps - Day 315

Today was the big snow day they were warning us about all week.  I awoke to find a couple of inches on the ground, but no more was falling, and it would all be melted by the end of the day.  Maybe next snowstorm I'll record my Christmas song (I still can't sing due to sickness, but then, you could say that that never stopped me before).

I took my nephew out to Del Taco today, since his quarantine is now over (he goes back to school on Monday, while his little brother, who has exhibited no symptoms, can't go back until the New Year), and he said he couldn't taste anything.  They had been allowing people to sit outdoors, as cold as that has been (my cousin and I braved some pretty cold afternoons to have some semblance of normalcy), but there was snow over all the chairs out there, so we had to eat in the car.  

My nephew turned thirteen last week.  Soon, he'll be bigger than me.  I gave the boy a sip of my drink and he said it tasted no different than the complimentary water he was given.  I am fortunate that it's only my sense of smell that disappeared completely (although I did sniff my deodorant top this morning and thought I smelled something, though that could have been my sense memory talking).

He said, "What would you do if your sense of smell NEVER came back?"  And I thought about it.  Smell is probably my least-valued sense, and while it would be sad to never be able to smell what's-her-name's hair again or know when it was time to wash my jogging sweatshirt, I would be alright.  Never regaining my sense of taste would be helpful in dieting, that's for sure.

Got a headache again today.  No big deal--my niece's boyfriend got a positive COVID test the other day and is feeling deathly ill this weekend, to the point where they're talking about hospitals.  It's not fair that a decent, young, glasses-wearing guy with a girlfriend like that would have health problems, and a lazy, middle-aged, self-loathing do-nothing dude with no relationship skills like me would be fine.

I laid down for a few minutes this afternoon, hoping the headache would go away, and when I woke up, the sun was low in the sky . . . and only twenty minutes had passed.  I was tempted just to keep lying there, but despite what I said about my own laziness, I just couldn't do it, not knowing it would be pitch black by five, and the library would be closing a few minutes after that.  So I jetted over to the library as quickly as I could (too quickly, as the ice covering half my windshield only started to melt as I reached the light in front of the library), and here I am, on the quiet floor, with a few minutes to write . . .

. . . and now I have to pee.  Darn it, just yesterday, I was watching the dude sit exactly where I am now, across from a blonde with oddly-tanned bare legs (yes, in December), then get up and walk away, leaving all his belongings in the safekeeping of a stranger from Santa Barbara.

But I have no one to watch my stuff.  Should I--

Nope, I really have to pee, like, dangerously.  I guess I'll do so.

I scurried off to hit the bathroom, taking my laptop and mouse with me, but leaving the cord and my coat (which had my car keys in them, so that might have been dumb . . . but it's the library, and the second floor at that.  Not a tremendous criminal element, I'd wager).

Every table has this sign on it:

And yet, I see two people without their masks on right in front of me.  I don't know that I get it--the skinny teen girl directly in front of me actually took her mask off and set it beside her table's sign.  Maybe it was an eff-you to the restrictions, but I can't help but feel like it might be an eff-you to rules in general.  After all, there are several people with coffee or water bottles at their desks, and even before the pandemic, food and drink was forbidden on the second floor (I'd never dared bring anything up here, and I've spent maybe fifty hours here).

Have I become my mother, in my later years?

Don't answer that.  I do sometimes see my mom in my face in the morning as I look in the mirror and I get older.  Of course, it could be worse: I could see your mom in the morning.  

Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In December: 1144

Push-ups Today: 106
Push-ups In December: 621

The library closes in a few minutes, and I've managed two sentences of writing.  There are four people sitting in front of me, and only one of them has a mask on.  I really ought to stop watching people, as it's only making me crazy, like going to the mall and watching the teens congregate outside of H&M or Maurices.

The sun is now all but gone out the window, and I would like to sneak over there and get a picture, but it's just not possible on this side of the building.  This was the best I could manage:

Dang, I really have to buckle down, and get some darn words in.  Big Anklevich and I recorded another podcast last night, and afterward, I finished watching MANK on Netflix, but I fully intended to record two or three chapters of "A Sidekick's Errand," which would undoubtedly have given me a couple hundred words.  Okay, I'll do that tonight.  But still, to just sit here watching the other people in the library, creepily watching the girl whose job it is to spray down all the tables where people might have been studying, seems like a wasted opportunity.

Why not just put that on my headstone, though?

Words Today: 921
Words In December: 10,575

December Sweeps - Day 314

It started to snow this morning.  At first, it was those tiny little fluff flakes, like mild dandruff, and I ignored it.  But then, it was replaced by the big, heavy flakes, like severe dandruff, and I thought, "Oh, I need to drive over to the storage unit and record my Christmas Serenade video!"  I'd had a song in mind for the past month or so, and have been putting it off until the first snow fell (we did get snow during the night a couple of weeks back, but it was all melted by late morning).

So, I grabbed the song's lyrics, checked my phone . . . and it had no memory.  It wouldn't even let me take a single photo this morning of how weird my bedhead looked.  So, I quickly scrolled through and deleted the last few photos I took to send to my cousin or friend, and yet, the phone still claimed it had no memory.  So I checked the oldest video on the phone--a song I recorded in July while standing in a field of gold right out of a Sting song (oddly, it was a Marc Cohn song I sang instead--a little tone deaf in retrospect)--and considered whether to delete it or not.

Big Anklevich explained to me recently that when you delete stuff from your phone, it's not really deleted, but sent to a folder for later elimination, hence my phone always being full no matter how many files I remove.  This time, when I tried to delete a video of the sunset from September, it said "There is not enough memory to complete this task.  Would you like to remove this file permanently?"  Well, that's what I'd had in mind with ALL the files I delete, but I have no idea how to do it that way.  So, I deleted the sunset video, and then the phone claimed it had enough space to record a song.

I grabbed my coat, and went out to the car, but I didn't get anywhere.  The snow had stopped falling.

So, alas.

I did think I ought to sit down and write up a little poem to go to that sunset video I shot (I made sure I had transferred it to my laptop before deleting it).  It would count as writing, after all.

I'm on the second floor of the library (the quiet floor, where you're not supposed to talk on your phone or make any noise), and a guy behind me took a cellphone call, and just spoke normally for a few minutes, saying he was almost done here, but he could swing by, no problem.  I found it hard to concentrate on my shite writing, so looked through emails and Facebook while he talked.

I realize that one day, I'll have quit this daily writing/daily blogging thing, and will miss it and/or feel really proud of myself, but right now, I don't feel proud at all.  I guess I should pack it in.

While I was sitting here, I noticed a blonde girl not wearing a mask a few desks over.  She had a mask set on the table in front of her, but wasn't wearing it.  I watched her study, wondering if she'd already had COVID, or if she had forgotten about the mask, or if she was one of those people who was too special to wear one.  She was plenty attractive, but honestly, I don't know if that's just the fact that I never see girls' faces anymore, or am just super lonely, or what.

Anyway, an hour passed, and I wrote a bit more of my story.  I've gotten past the point I was at when the power went out, but I don't think I wrote the same thing.  I don't know where the story should go now, since I'm in a slightly different place than I was.  After a while, the sun started to set and it was looking pretty out the window over there, but the library has actually stacked up tons of desks against the windows so that no one can approach them or get near enough to take pictures of the sunset.

The girl over there still wasn't wearing her mask, and as I was writing, a dude--also not wearing a mask, with curly blond hair--walked up to her, and at full volume (not quietly in the least) started flirting with her, asking what she was doing, what finals she was studying for, where she was from, and "what's your name again?"  (even though she hadn't given it before)

She was fairly pleasant to him, and I just marveled, that this stranger walked up to another stranger and just began talking to her.  He went as far as to say, "So, when you're not doing finals, we should get together, get something to eat.  I live right around here, in Cottontree Apartments.  Where do you live?"  And she told him that her complex is just a block away and she sometimes comes here to study.  He laughed, "Whoa, me too!  We should totally hang out then."  She wasn't particularly committal, but he said, "Here, let me give you my number.  You can call if you want."  And he gave it to her, then walked away, his head held high, still not wearing a mask.

I watched (and heard) that entire exchange, and observed her expression as the guy left.  It was neither excited nor mortified, but after a few seconds, she went back to studying.  

My mom said something once about enjoying watching people when she was on vacation, and now I'm just watching the people around me.  There's a deaf guy that I used to know, only two rows away (he makes noises while he reads, and I always wondered if he was aware of that).  I used to greet him whenever I saw him, but he started wearing a MAGA hat a year or two back, so I leave him alone now.

A guy with a heavy coat on and a baseball cap just walked by (he was wearing a mask, by the way), and when he saw me looking his way, he said something behind the mask.  I'm pretty sure it was "Jerk," but that doesn't make any sense.  Nobody says "jerk" anymore, and if he was really upset that I was looking at him, he'd say something like "Weirdo" or "Asshole" to me.  If the shoe fits, right?

There's a girl in the corner hunched over a laptop.  She keeps doing stretches where she turns her upper body one way and then another, and her underwear shows when she does it.  Maybe Mom was right about people-watching.

Oh, I saw a guy wearing sunglasses stand up from one of the computers, and I just realized it's the blind Korean guy.  How strange that a blind guy and a deaf guy are both in front of me, and they don't even know it (how could they, right?).  I think I ought to take off now.

A dude with a bright yellow beanie and with his mask pulled down to his chin just sat down opposite the blonde.  He could have sat anywhere--in fact, there are entire tables surrounding me with nobody at them--but he chose to sit right there where she was.  I don't know what to think about that, except that I kind of admire him.  "Do you mind?" he just said, and she didn't say anything back.  He plugged his own laptop into the outlet in front of her, and then looked over at me when I was watching him do it.  

I am bummed about my life.  I wish I had managed to at least do a Christmas song in the snow.  It's supposed to snow quite a bit tomorrow.  I will do what I can about it.

I looked over at the beanie guy just now, and he was staring right at me.  It occurred to me that, while I was writing, I stuck my little finger in my ear to dig some wax out, and I wondered if he saw me do it.  I met his gaze, trying to figure out why he was looking at me (did he know I had been blogging about him?  Does he see me as competition for the unmasked blonde's affection?).  He raised his eyebrows at me, and I don't know what that means.

A moment later, he stood up and walked away, leaving his coat, charger, and laptop there with the blonde girl.  Pretty trusting guy, I'd say.  I don't even dare leave library books at my place when I go to the bathroom.

I miss seeing people's faces, and I miss being able to go to a drinking fountain pretty much wherever I was.  I also miss stuff I've never experienced.  Not sure if "missing" it is the correct word, then.

The blonde girl just looked over at me too.  I wonder if she felt my gaze on her.  Does she feel the gaze of strange men on her all the time?  Is that enjoyable?  Is that why she's not wearing a mask?  Sort of a "Hey, somebody notice me.  I'm kind of pretty, don't you think?  I'm from California, from a town called Santa Barbara.  Did you hear me tell that guy with the curly blond hair that?" kind of thing.

It tried hard not to break her gaze, but it was too uncomfortable.  I didn't want her muttering "Jerk" too.

Have you ever heard that song by Linus of Hollywood that goes "To be a girl, must be the most beautiful feeling?"

Well, I'm going to go home now.  I didn't get nearly as many words written today as yesterday, despite being here just as long.  I hope your day is a good one.

Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In December: 1044

Do you know the word "Lethologica?"  It's the word for when your mind can't remember the word you're looking for.  It has its root in Lethe, or the River of Forgetfulness in Hades.  There is something both cool and uniquely sad about that.

Words Today: 1258
Words In December: 9654

This was the picture from this morning, with the caption "I'm not a fan of Dragonball Z.  But my hair is."

Rish Outcast 184: Journey Into Another Dimension 3

In this episode, I present the third chunk of my absurd novella  "Journey Into Another Dimension Through A Portal Near A Truck Stop Restroom."  Then I will explain.

I defy you to enjoy it.

To download the show, just Right-Click HERE.

To support me on Patreon--hey, you would've heard this last summer!--Left-Click HERE.

Logo by Gino "REO Speedwagon Into Another Dimension" Moretto.

December Sweeps - 313

Wow, here we are, a third of the way through the final month of this, the longest year on record.  There are a lot of things I won't miss about 2020, but you ever see that shirtless guy that comes up on ads on YouTube that says, "Cardio burns fat, right?  Wrong!"  Him I will miss not at all, Scarecrow.

Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In December: 944

Push-ups Today: 105
Push-ups In December: 515

I went back to the library, but with my laptop this time.  It's counter-productive, because I could just be on my laptop at home, but after yesterday, I don't trust their system--if the power went out now, my laptop would just switch to battery.

So, I decided to rewrite what I wrote yesterday.  The problem is, only about 10% of it is the same.  I've had to recreate lost work before--even going so far as to rewrite a couple of stories from beginning to end--and it's always hard to replicate what went before.  My brain doesn't want to tell the same story twice in the same words: it wants to tackle things from new perspectives or add details that it didn't include the first time through.  So, it's the same exact events I'm describing as yesterday, but it might as well be Chapter 2 instead of Chapter 1.

If other people found the process of writing fascinating, there would be something of interest there, I think.

I didn't even get as far as I did yesterday, even though I think I wrote for longer (of course, Disney was giving their investor presentation while I was writing, and I started reading their announcements, and boy, that was all she wrote, as far as writing goes).

As far as publishing goes, "My Friend of Misery" is ready to go, and now stands at 42,291 words.  I was looking through a notebook yesterday, trying to figure out what year I wrote "Roll With The Changes," which I'm putting in my next audio collection (or the next one).*    Anyway, I was paging through the handwritten manuscript of MFOM, when I discovered a bit at a funeral that I didn't remember recording.  I read through it, and yeah, it's a section I never typed up, for some reason (though the pages immediately before it and after it were in the version I recorded).  So, I sat down tonight and read that bit, which shouldn't be too jarring when I drop it into chapter 32, unless my post-COVID voice is different than my pre-COVID one.

Gino sent me a sketch he did for the cover, which I'll post here:

I dig it, and wish my own artistic talents were more developed.  Here's my sketch, by the way:

As soon as that guy gets the cover done, I'm putting it out there.  Heck, I should focus on having all the audio done by the time that happens.  Shouldn't be too long.

Words Today: 1940
Words In December: 8396

*I wasn't sure if it was 2018 or 2017, but found it in the notebook, under the temporary title of October Scary Story 2016.  Whoops.

December Sweeps - 312

I am in a surprisingly okay mood for what happened to me today.

About a month ago, I had an idea for, not a sequel to "Ten Thousand Coffins," exactly, but a parallel story of what happens on the Outpost the sleeper ship is heading for.  I outlined it pretty well, with dialogue and the basic plot, but never started writing on it.  But the subject matter is near and dear to my heart (inspired, as all stories now seem to be, by something Marshal Latham said on a podcast recently), with a main character isolated and helpless, as a disease begins to winnow down the population.

So I just began from the beginning, and started the story with the main character, who I called Comtech Gregory Clayton having a real-time conversation with the captain on the Dawn Breaks, right before the older man goes to sleep for the last time before the ship reaches the colony.  Captain Gustafson gives him some advice, assuring him that in a year or so, everything is going to be different on Outpost 3.

I like the idea that, in the last year of the ninety-one year journey from Earth to the outpost, all hell breaks loose on the planet.

I wrote the first chapter, introducing the main POV character, establishing what the colony is like (there are four main structures, but only three are occupied), and that he's alone because both of his coworkers called in sick on the same day.

I started the ball rolling when he gets a call from one of those coworkers, and finds out that there's an emergency currently occurring in Module B.  He decides to leave his post and try to help, even though the rules say--

And then, the power went off at the library.

All around me, the people working on computers made various exclamations, and we were forced to wait for the electricity to come back on.  I stood and approached the librarian.  "There's no chance there's a backup that saves all of our work on there, is there?" I asked.

"I'm afraid not," she said, and when the power did come back, fifteen or so seconds later, I contemplated the loss of my work, my time, and a bit of my good humor.

When I logged back in, it said, "You have used 81 minutes of your allotted 120.  You have 29 minutes left."

So, that means that it was well over an hour's writing I lost.  And I did check, just in case Word made some kind of emergency back-up, or miraculously, it had saved to my gmail or something.  But no, nothing, not a single word had survived.

Still counts as writing, though.

Sit-ups Today: 100
Sit-ups In December: 844

Words Today: 1500
Words In December: 6456

The thing is: a real winner would probably have shaked his fist at the heavens, then sat down and made himself (or herself) write the scene again . . . and then went on to Chapter 2.  And a real winner probably would've used "shaken" instead of "shaked."  Maybe even "shook."

But I didn't do that.

I guess I should go to bed and see if I can't do it better tomorrow.  We'll call a Mulligan, okay?