February Sweeps - Day 29

Today is the last day of February, a truly magical day (again, why is this not a major holiday?  Even if that asshole used it as an excuse to go golfing, someone should recognize how special it is).  It's also the last day I am obligated to write and do this blog post.

I'm going to try to use it well.

I went to the library much earlier than I usually do (my nephew does have a basketball game today, but not until eight pm, if that can be believed), and I'm going to do what I can with the stories-in-progress, and also to prepare for March, where I'll be producing the second Lara and the Witch book for publication.

I was just reading the part where Lara's family is in danger, and only the girl and Mrs. Holcomb are aware of it, and it made me proud, truly proud that I am a writer.  In the same way that a parent can see their toddler walk or make a basket or ride a bicycle or shake her moneymaker on a stripper pole and feel pride that that came out of them.

So, I'm going to spend an hour putting that book all in the correct order, arbitrarily deciding which day's work from 2019 goes when, and then I'll have it to do the final revision of in March.  If it's good, it'll be a joy to perform, and though I've said it before, I find it strange that I wrote a story (about 25,000 words) where all of the major characters (except the villain) are female.  In a way, I shouldn't be allowed to narrate the story myself (he said, raising a huge middle finger as he did so).  I hope it's well-received, when it finally comes out on the stage and that old Destiny's Child song starts playing.

Okay, it took nearly three hours.  I even had to pay to keep using the computer, because I absolutely HAD to get it all done in one sitting, and the worst was the two parallel scenes I had written (one in 2019 and one just this month), which I had to go through, line by line, trying to keep both of their best points, despite one having a gentle tone and one a cruel one.

I had brought one of my notebooks (with a story in it I never put out there, that took place on the outpost the ship was heading to in "Ten Thousand Coffins," and my two works-in-progress, and I started to write on them . . . but the lights started to flash and that startling announcement that the library was closing blasted from all the speakers, and it was time to go.*

But hey, that one is done (only a month after I sat down and recorded the first two chapters), and I can make it a point to get it done in the month of March (which reminds me, Audible has had "The Calling 2" since January 30th and not approved it . . . guess I know what the answer's gonna be, huh?).  Depending on how quiet it is tonight, maybe I'll record a bit on that.

In case my exercising every day was linked to February (like my writing and blogging), I went for one last run.  I've complained (oh, but not nearly enough) about the app I downloaded on The Worst Day Of The Year that would count my steps walking and running, but boy, it really sucks sometimes.  I will occasionally open the app while I am walking, and see that it is not counting my steps, and even though I ran one block farther than I have tonight . . . it claimed I still did not reach my daily goal (and proclaimed that Jews are behind all the wars in the world).

If it ever calls me "Sugartits," I'm uninstalling the app.

I heard a song today I had never heard before.  It was an old Smiths song, and it grabbed me with the first line, "Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head."  I had to track it down, and it was called I Know It's Over from 1986.  It was gloriously sad, like the best Smiths songs were, and at the end, it actually includes this sharp-edged gem:

"Love is natural and real,
But not for you, my love;
Not tonight, my love.
Love is natural and real, 
But not for such as you and I, my love."

There is no way Morrissey's pain in that song hasn't helped a bunch of people who also feel that way over the years.

It made me sit down and record another of those positive messages with the Fake Sean Connery mask on (were you aware I was doing those?  Have I mentioned that before on here?).  Of course, as soon as I recorded it, the Instagram app crashed, and I had to start over.  The second time, I went too long and it said it couldn't be over a minute, so I had to start over.  The third time, Instagram crashed.  The fourth time, I realized I hadn't pulled the mask down, so I had to start over.  The fifth time, everything worked out great . . . except it had only recorded a shadow and my voice--not even a glimmer of Fake Sean's face, despite a light being on in the room.  But the sixth time, well, by then, it was really hard to be as authentic and genuine as I had been the first couple--it started to feel rehearsed and "actory," but I did it again because, by Bossk, if one sad, lonely, upset human being watches it and GETS IT, then it was worth doing.

Sure would be nice to have one of these work out fine the first take, though.

And that's it.  Like I said, February was an enormously productive month, and I'll miss it when it's gone.  I hope you had a very solid twenty-nine days in a row, whether you've been writing or not.  Don't you forget, you are enough.

Let's be enough together.

Rish

Words Today: 1650

Words Total: 47,952

*I checked, though, to see if the computer would log me out at the three-minutes-remaining mark, or once the countdown got to zero.  And it worked the way it was supposed to (at zero).  Hmm.