July 14th & 15th

I hate to say it, but we're halfway through the month.  And that means . . . ah heck, I don't know what it means.  I'm a step closer to death is all.

July 14.

I held on to a bit of my sickness from the day before today, so I slept and read more than I wrote (though I did grab my notebook and force myself to scratch out a paragraph before getting to work on my blog [which was five days behind], adding up the numbers and still being a bit distressed that all my writing this month [including an Author's Note that might not technically even count as writing] barely equal a short story).*

Maybe I can set a bigger goal for August.

Words Today: 128
Total Words: 4412

July 15.

A "friend" of mine on Facebook reported their writing achievement for today, and it was more than I have managed all month.  To that I say . . .

Well, let's keep profanity out of this.

I went to the library for a few minutes before it closed, and typed a couple more pages on my novella from earlier in the year.  Last time I typed up an additional scene I had jotted down in the margins, then today I reached the point where I put a little box with INSERT SCENE in it.  Unfortunately, it doesn't really work with the narrative as a whole, and it either comes too early in the relationship, or it is the same scene a later conversation covers.  I will have to figure out a way to make it work, which is a part of writing I don't particularly enjoy.

Oh yeah, and in the library, there was an attractive young woman walking by with a tight grey t-shirt on that said, "Taco Tuesday!" on it. I admit that her boyfriend/husband caught me staring at her chest and gave me the stink-eye. But the thing is, on her shirt, under "Taco Tuesday!" there was a picture of a slice of pizza.

Words Today: 142
Total Words: 4554

July 12th & Unlucky 13th

July 12.

So, I forced myself to write to the end of my "Journey Into..." story, which clocks in at around 18,000 words.  I suppose it will be the next thing I publish, if I ever get/make cover art for it.

Words Today: 378
Total Words: 3990

July 13.

Today is probably as evil a day as Arbor Day (though not as bad as Febrary 14th), but it also gave us the birth of both Harrison "Get Off My Plane" Ford and Patrick "Poop Emoji" Stewart.  I mostly did what I wanted on that day (including, sadly, drinking three Pepsis instead of my usual one), including watching CIVIL WAR with my nephews (probably gonna take them to see SPIDER-MAN: HOMECOMING this weekend), but I did drive over to the library and work for an hour.

Unfortunately, I got mildly sick later (maybe three Pepsis is too much for anyone), and ended up laying down for the evening, and falling asleep hours earlier than I usually do (which had the positive effect of me waking up two hours before my alarm the next morning, and getting work done before I would have normally woke up).

Words Today: 294
Total Words: 4284

July 10th & 11th

July 10.

In case you're just joining me . . . well, you've missed nothing.

I'm writing every day in July, and keeping a record of my word count.  So far, my output has been slightly better than shameful.

Still, today wasn't so bad.  I took my notebook with me to lunch, and stayed an extra couple of minutes to finish a paragraph (this is on my YA story), and at the end of the day, I sat and wrote on the other project.

Words Today: 600
Total Words: 2729

July 11.

I had to drive down south and work today.  I didn't get much done, but I did sit and write for a few minutes.  Not a lot, but . . .

Oh wait, what's this?  I couldn't sleep at night, so I decided to write a bit more between three and four am.  Maybe it's all gibberish, but it's still gonna count as words.

Words Today: 883
Total Words: 3612

July 8th & 9th

July 8th.

So, I went to the library again today.  I was going to be a real writer!  But seven or eight minutes after I sat down, a voice announced that the library would be closing in fifteen minutes, and the lights went on and off.  I tried hard to write for the next ten, but then they announced it would be closing in five minutes, and they actually sent employees around to harass anyone who was still on the second floor. 

Darn.  Kinda makes me wish I hadn't spent the first fifteen minutes at the library on the toilet.

I finished editing another Outcast episode, this one due to hit toward the end of August.  When I got to the end, I realized it was going to be about ninety minutes long, so I decided to split it in two.  Maybe that's crass of me, but I walked around the block and recorded about twenty more minutes for it so the two episodes will be about an hour each.  Hopefully somebody feels that's extra content, instead of being ripped off.

Words Written: 196
Total Words: 1921

July 9th.

Nothing to report here. Yeah, I wrote, a little. All it would've taken was a teensy bit of extra effort, and I would've been finished with JIADVAPNATSR (that's "Journey Into Another Dimension..." for you sane folks). Then who knows what I could go on to achieve?

The world may never know.

Words Written: 208
Total Words: 2129

P.S. I thought about Dan Hedaya today, just before posting this, thinking about him (specifically, how Alicia Silverstone was supposed to have been the fruit of his loins in CLUELESS), and a bit sad he died, remembering seeing him in a "Person of Interest" shortly before . . . his passing?

But . . .

I doubted my memory, and looked it up.

DAN HEDAYA IS ALIVE!

You're welcome.

Rish Outcast 77: Here Comes the Rain Again

Rish decides to podcast during a rainstorm.  When that fails, he talks about narrating Abigail Hilton's new book.  Also, Fake Sean discovers that being's believing (whatever that means).

Don't know why you'd wanna, but you can download the episode by Right-Clicking HERE.

Want episodes early, and various bonus content? Support Rish via his Patreon. Hey, it's better than genocide.

July 6th & 7th

Still going, though not at any breakneck speed.

July 6th.

The sixth of July is my brother's birthday (or it has been most years, not sure how Leap Years work), though I don't imagine we're close enough to wish each other a happy one anymore.  I saw him on the 4th, and gave him some cash for some comics from his childhood I sold.  That'll have to do.

It has been insanely hot the last few days.  I don't usually complain about the heat, because I like it and truly loathe the people who go on and on about it (it doesn't make it any cooler to hear you bitch, Auntie Gretchin), but that has helped give me the excuse not to write.  Heck, I can barely edit podcasts (though I spent Wednesday editing the next PTDNSIN, and the next day editing the Fake Sean song that follows it).

Here on my PC (that's Personal Computer, but it also means you're not supposed to use racial slurs or bigoted language around it), I've been putting the finishing touches on a project called "Journey Into Another Dimension Through A Portal Near a Truck Stop Restroom," a story I probably mentioned back in January of '16 when I started it.  I was quite enamored with that title through all of 2016 (even made a mock-up of a cover for it, which was an image about 80% covered with text) . . . but this year, I'm not so sure. 

I wracked my brains to come up with an alternate title, and decided on "Exotic Honeymoon," but it tells you much less than the original did.  And there's very little Punk Rock attitude with that title.  Anyway, I am at the end of that now, and after maybe one more day, I can put it behind me and start working on the other belated work.

I half-dread, half-look forward to it.

Words Written: 152
Total Words: 1165

July 7th.

Okay, today I actually got Some Writing done.*  It has been kinda pathetic, what I've accomplished so far, but it adds up, and it's more than I've been writing.  But today was the first day where I sat down and made myself do it, like I did in February, March, and April.  Unfortunately, it was all in my notebook, so I'll just have to type it again one day, and that won't count toward my writing goals.  Ah well, baby steps.

I took my notebook into a restaurant with me, wrote about three sentences before they called my name.  But then I forced myself to keep writing when I was done eating.  That's how it used to be, and how it needs to be again.  Basically, I wrote the opening of my YA nov--

Shudder.  I wrote the opening of my YA story.  Hopefully, that means there will be more.

Words Written: 560
Total Words: 1725

Rish "Writer" Outfield

*The capital letters tell you I mean business.

Celebrity D&D (Video Version)

In case you just can't get enough (all the things you do to me, and everything you said), here is the video version of "Celebrity Dungeons & Dragons," which should be exactly the same as the audio version. But is it?

July 4th & 5th

July 4th.

On Independence Day, I drove down to my childhood home to mow the weeds and so my mom could water the lawn.  My niece went along and I asked her if she wanted to check a little stream down the road for tadpoles ("pollywogs," we called them when I was a kid).  She did, so we drove over and looked around.  Didn't see a one, whereas the last time we'd been by there, my nephews caught at least a dozen.

What we did see, however, were these little green leopard frogs hanging out on the bank, which would jump and hide in the moss when they'd see us.  As you may know, I become an eight year old whenever I see frogs (I often criticize Big Anklevich for devouring a Family-Sized bag of M&Ms at one sitting or eating every donut in the box, but I have my revolting, unhealthy obsessions too, don’t I?), so of course we spent fifteen minutes trying to catch them (they weren't very fast, but were extraordinarily slippery, and quite a challenge to grab).

We got two, stuck 'em in a container, and brought them home, where my niece and I made a lid for their enclosure out of mosquito netting and Legos.  That may sound stupid, but it was a fun activity for my niece and me, and it seemed to work pretty well.  They haven't jumped away yet.

Then we had a family barbecue (I cooked the meat), gorged ourselves, and I believe I fell asleep.  There were fireworks, and then my cousin invited me to go over to his place, despite me being tired.  I drove over around ten pm, impressed by dozens of fireworks displays as I drove.  At his house, we've begun watching that show "Legends of Tomorrow," and I've gotta say, there hasn't been an episode yet where I haven't mentioned, "Just have Sara kill them and this will all be solved."

Despite all this, I don't think I got any writing done.  I got home, and forced myself to type a few before I went to bed.  So, an anemic day/week, as far as word count goes.

Words Written: 114 
Total Words: 854

July 5th.

So, on the fifth I went to the library for the first time in, I dunno, fifty days.  I know that's where I get the most work done (besides the family cabin, where there's no internet, television, or even cellphone service), so I ought to go there more often, but it's hard to make myself do it.  I've even driven to the library, pulled in to the parking lot, then said, "Nahh, I think I'll go throw dirt-clods at red-headed children" instead.  That's on me.

Last Saturday, I went over, meaning to start the new month out right, but the bastards close early on Saturdays.  Who does that?*  That's on them.

Well, on the fifth, I finally manned up (or womanned up, if that's tougher) and went up to the Quiet Floor (where you just ignore the cellphones, despite all the signs that say to silence them).  I had intended to stay only an hour, but ended up being there nearly two. 

While not technically writing according to my July definition, I was typing up my novella "A Mark on the Sky" from my notebook.  I've now gotten it about two-thirds of the way typed, and when it's done . . . jeez, I dunno.  It'll probably sit on my hard drive, impotent and mute, while my beard gets whiter and whiter.  We'll see if I can break my usual cycle on that one.  As Aerosmith once told me, "Girl, you got to change your crazy ways.  You hear me?"

Despite the time spent in the library, I can't count that as writing, except what little writing I did do.  I'll do better next time.  Seriously, dude-looks-like-a-lady.

Words Written: 159 (which is crazy, but that's what it said)

Total Words: 1013

Rish Outfield, Writer (so far)

*It may be that all libraries do that.  But I don't have to like it.

July 2nd & 3rd

So, I was a little bit worried about how this month of July would go, with me pledging to write every single day, but almost missing the first day of the month.

And the second.  On July 2nd, which was my childhood friend Dennis's birthday (still is, I would assume) and always had significance to me, I had just as much motivation to write as the day before.  Namely, none.

I have a work-in-progress I've been puttering around with since the end of April or so.  I write on it a couple of days a week, and rarely very long.  It should really be a screenplay, I'm aware of the fact, and hence, there's very little incentive to work on something like that.  But at the end of the night, instead of working on that, I decided to jot down a paragraph or two on a story I wrote in 2016.  January of 2016.

And that was literally it: a paragraph or two.

So, here's my barely-not-failing-numbers for today:

Words Written: 191
Total Words: 476

July 3rd

The next day, however, I got an email from my pal Cameron, saying he was finally going to stand up to his father and/or kick the crap out of a Ferrari.  Oh wait, wrong pal.  This one emailed to let me know that he would be my surrogate writing coach, and would be happy to not only urge me on, but take the writing-everyday-for-a-month challenge alongside me. 

He also told me that he was my boyfriend now, Nancy.

Tonight, I went for a lengthy bike ride, rather than writing.  There were (are) tons of fireworks going off, so I used that as an excuse to pedal around for three-plus miles (although I guess you could use exercise as an excuse as well).  Sometimes I thought about where my life is going--never a good idea--and sometimes I thought about writing.

I did some work, sent some emails, and wrote just a tiny bit on (the end of) that story I mentioned from more than a year ago.  And by Thursday or so, it'll be time to start on something else.

I mentioned that idea I had for a YA novel in my last post*, and I really think I might have something with it.  But I am intimidated by the thought of trying to write a novel (we've been over this before, right?), and I just find that task too daunting.  I know, though, that if I just wrote a couple of hundred words every day . . . I could do it.  By December.

But I could still do it.  Guess I should increase my word count, huh?

Words Written: 264
Total Words: 740

Rish Outfield, Word Counter

*And also mentioned the nigh-unto-unbearable YA book I was slogging through, which I actually finished yesterday.  And the sad thing is, even though it amassed about thirty-one strikes during the ballgame, the book ended on a pretty strong note, so much so that I wondered how something like that happens--whether the author was building toward this final chapter the whole time, or had a theory (like mine about horror films) that the ending is the most important part and ended up working hardest on it, or whether it was editor-mandated.
And then, the author finished the book by bashing the Harry Potter series so shamelessly that I wish I had a time machine to use to go back to one of those times I was tempted to throw the book against a wall and give in to my inclination.  Let me know if you've got a DeLorean handy.

Rish Outcast 76: Miss Fortune

A year or two ago, I entered an audio drama in the "Masters of the Macabre" contest, the entry that would, sadly, be my last.  I wrote about it here.  It was brought to my attention that that episode was no longer available, but luckily, I still had the original production.

Featuring the voices of Renee Chambliss and my niece, "Miss Fortune" is a short piece written with awfully narrow specifications.  The location had to be a Festival, the monster it featured had to be Raw Head, and a specific tarot card had to appear (namely, The Hermit).

Enjoy?

I recorded this episode after a particularly heavy snowstorm, and was going to save it until next winter, but listeners (well, ostensibly they were listeners) told me to go ahead and post it.  After all, it's winter in the Southern Hemisphere.



Of course, you can always download the episode directly by Right-Clicking This Link.

And come support my Patreon.  Only the cool kids are doing it.

July 1st . . . already?

So, earlier in the year, I made monthly goals and then reported on those goals, mostly writing-related.  It was actually pretty effective in getting me off my doughy behind and making me do things when I didn't really want to do them.  It didn't hurt that I had a friend who was working on his own (public) goals, and I could encourage myself by encouraging him.

Then, things changed.  I got a big audio assignment (and a nasty, smaller one), and decided to curtail my writing activities in favor of those.  May and June would be dedicated to finishing those obligations, and I told myself that then, in July, I would be a writer again.

And as Big said on several occasions this year, a writer is someone who . . . writes . . . every . . . day.

But today is July 1st, the start of a new month, the opportunity to be that thing again that does that thing again.  And I really don't want to.

I took my notebook to lunch with me, as I did during my prodigious writing days this past winter, and instead of toiling on my work in progress, I jotted down a couple of ideas for an abandoned short story from a year or two ago that I thought about turning into a novel.*

Now, the day is close to done, and I haven't done any more writing (not the kind where I can count up the words and boast about them, which was what I told myself I'd do every day in July).  In fact, I was tempted to watch television--a vice I almost never engage in--until the whole night was gone.

What's wrong with me?  Besides, the obvious, I mean.  When Big was here, he and I would delight in railing against that long-standing notion that doing something for x days in a row would make it an unbreakable habit, because we both discovered that that particular lie did not apply to writing.  But at least we had each other to complain to.

Now, though, I'm on my own, and I couldn't even manage to write one day in a row??  That's awfully pathetic, even by my own standards.

What should I do?  Publish this abortion of a blog post, then open Word and force myself to write a few words, so that I can say tomorrow, "Well, I wrote yesterday.  The least I can do is do it again."?

Shit, maybe I will.

Rish Outfield, Writer?

P.S.  Well, it isn't much, but I did write for a few minutes, and it wasn't nearly as painful as it could've been.  So, here we are:

Words Today: 285
Total Words: 285

*I am nearly finished reading a Young Adult novel by an esteemed, acclaimed, and prolific writer, and I'm absolutely hating it.  Time after time, I'd angrily tell the ether, "Okay, that's Strike Two.  One more strike and this sucker gets tossed across the room."  But I'd keep going, due to a martyr complex or something.  Because even though I loathe the book, I'm fully aware that its author is a better writer than I am.  If he is capable of such middling, cringe-worthy, sub-ordinary work . . . holy San Salieri, what does that make of my own writing?  Of me, who would rather clean a fishtank than put pen to paper?