A Thank You To A Muse

I was trying to figure out where to go with a story I was writing. You know how things go: Life changes. Stories need to shift gear. Alliances fade away ( or violently explode in an eruption of miscommunication and buried hatred). So you’re left with some aftermath and some writing that needs a little kick in the ass. Enter Chris, the Muse.

Thanks to Senior Muse, I can channel all of the lovely rage, self-deprecation and irritation behind this oddly, destructive body into something angry, devoted, irritated and  punishable by self-loathing and relief. If you think I’m playing the pity card here, you’re a fucking idiot. I like having some weird, explosivitiy in my life. Anger is good for you sometimes.

(I don’t own this – Starz owns this. Neil Gaiman owns this. American Gods just resonates)

Just like having 3 different voices in your head, one of which is batshit crazy and likes to pick fights with everything that moves. She may also be missing an eye, but I haven’t had the opportunity to look at her face long enough before taking a baseball bat to mine.

Anyway! Thanks Chris! I know where to take this story, and it’s been surprisingly therapeutic. I mean I’m only like… 2 pages in, but it’s kinda nice to have those two pages and know where the story’s going. So I owe you, sir. I owe you quite a bit. As do some of the characters who would have otherwise been sent to the land of hellacious, story-time, purgatory for the rest of their underdeveloped lives.

They thank you too, as well, Chris (<– Bad grammar is just hilarious)

(I don’t own this either – Volbeat does. This is not mine. This is theirs.)


P.S: Still working on editing the original babies. Don’t worry. They aren’t going to collect dust. I know a Lil Sis, Big Bro, Mumsy and fellow Heathen that would kick my ass if I let that happen. Plus the Doc, Randall and the Creeper in the trees. It’s coming. Hopefully by Summer 2018. Shhhh.

Distractions Be Damned

Jumping back into editing the first book. Avol and I need to address a few things. The Doc and I have gone through it, but Avol and I have not. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t fucking terrified to see whatever the fuck is looming in Randall’s head.

After that, guess I’m gonna work on a few other books. Most started but none really beyond the 30 page mark. Now they need to grow into hideous monsters that eat my every waking second like Augustus guzzled chocolate.

The Process Is… Goddamn IT!

Book three was completed New Year’s Eve 2017. The Doctor spoke. Finally… Coincidentally, his speech was everything I needed to complete the Ultra Shitty First Draft. A draft you will never see. There are so many issues with that script– I mean book. I need to fix it, but the shit is on paper; so it’s a step in the right direction. Eventually, I’ll post a normal Shitty First Draft. One that has actual spelling an grammar. And yes, those are up for feedback – CONSTRUCTIVE feedback. None of this “You suck” shit. Trust me, if all you can give someone is “you suck” your opinion is far from valid and you should probably seek therapeutic assistance for whatever issues you’ve harbored all your life.  For those who have something worth a damn – I’d love to hear it. I might listen, I might not. But I want to know. (Yes, I’m going to bait you with that feedback when all of these hit final draft. You’re gonna have to buy those, though.)

I might just stroke your ego a little bit. Feed you some new synopsis and dig finger-joint deep into your wallet. Not too deep. I’m not Gaiman, Rowling or Newman. Not Huston, Bunn or King. So I ain’t gonna charge ya like I am. Just a little to cover the services and material – publishing services, not mine. For mine, I’ll just thank you like a normal nutter and move on. Might ask for an extra quarter for the scotch fund. Every cent helps fuel the madness. Except pennies. No one wants those little fuckers…

Side note: You all know who Gaiman, Rowling and King are… but they still have some damn good advice…

Well Fuck

…. There’s like 2 weeks left in this year (yes, bad grammar. Fuck you it’s prose). I have two books to finish. Publication of the first “novelette” is under way… Ha. Novelette… I like that word. It’s … comical. Also. Wine. A lot of it. That shit is like gold. It makes the things flow and is like truth serum to those fuckers in my head. They talk. The Doc especially. Wonder if he knew he was such a lush. Probably not. Ha! Fuck you typos. PROSE BITCH! COMMAS! PROSE, BITCH!

All hail 19 Crimes. Get me through this abomination of though….


Ooohhh they put the link at the bottom. Thanks Beetifulthings.com … I did it anyway…

Finger Destruction … or Decathlon.

A friend of mine (one that exists outside of my head, for a change) is damn good at keeping these fingers going. I mean it has been mass genocide of the finger race the last few days. The word counts keep growing, everything hurts, I’m not sure what the hell I’m going to do when these fuckers fall off, because they will. Or just explode from overuse…


Thank you Imgur, for this accurately disturbing depiction of pain… and 9Gag, because your shit is all over this picture anyway

To all my writer brethren and sistren out there: This is not a job. This is pain. All pain. All the time. Forever. It’s the ultimate faction of suffering. Buddha would be proud… You know, if he could feel pride, or whatever Buddhas feel. NaNoWriMo has been forcing my fingers in the upright position, making my hands swell, bringing out the competition beast because I like to see my numbers get really big while my not head friend’s numbers also get big (but not as big as mine… for now). It pleases me, US. Pleases, us… Please stop hitting me. Seriously, put the brass knuckles away man. This isn’t the 40s! Stop!

And in other interesting news: Thor? Beautiful. Punisher? 11/17 – which is next Friday. And I’m still working on getting the Doc up and running but he’s coming along nicely. Just get your fill of the other two books while you can. I’m going to do that thing where you can totally still read it here for free, but you’re SOL if I forget to pay the bill or something. I’ll throw a link to buy (<– this word, always in your wallet) when I compile all three books. Figure, more bang for your buck. And if you end up hating one of them, well you’re stuck with it and I get to laugh at you. It’s a win win situation. For me. Not for you. At that point it’s more like a … win, win, lose situation.


You know this meme… Thanks Imgur and Fry … and SpongeBob

Anyway, go read them. You’ll like them. And if you’re a fellow nutbag – get your ass over to NaNoWriMo and write some shit! Then go to ScreenCraft and write some more shit! One day, our favorite authors and movie people and television writers and comic crafters and all the writing people ever are going to die. Morbid… It’s Thursday. Everything is morbid. But when they go, no one will be around to write more things. So go and write all the things. Now. Or I’m gonna sick this crazy, violent son of a bitch on you and there’s nothing you can really do about it because she only exists in the realm of the nutters. Which you are.