#Concerned

I’m concerned right now.

I’ve taken my writing, my story into a direction that is what I think would be more professional. I’m trying to build up the relationship between the characters and tell the story of how they got to the point they were at in Episode 1 (link). The problem or concern that I have, is that I’m not doing a good job. That the story has become uninteresting, slow, and possibly boring.

When I write the shorts, they are to be quick and easily digestible. Shortened fantasies and dreams wished to be reality. They are read more often, liked more often, and commented on far more often than the chapters of this novel that I’m attempting to write.

Why is that?

Is it that my writing, when I attempt to be legitimate, is just not at the caliber to maintain an interest level? or is it that this medium plays to short stories with more punch rather than a drawn out serial novel.

I have no method of measuring the effectiveness of my writing other than comments and likes on this blog. I am adrift. Unable to discern the quality of my work because I have no measuring stick to compare to.

It’s frustrating.

If you are one of the people that are actually reading the serial novel that I’ve been writing, your feedback isn’t just appreciated, it’s damn well a necessity for me to keep going. I feel motivation for this story starting to drain out of me and I need that extra jolt of subscriber love that I hope will be there.

 

Please tell me if you like it….and if you don’t…..tell me why…..I want to get better and I need that feedback to get better.

 

 

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Chapter 9 – Delayed

Chapter 9 – Delayed

“I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“If you wanted to stay so badly, why didn’t you? Why come back?”

“My parents, they were expecting me. I had to come home. I had to register for university courses. I couldn’t just….float away into this dream world.”

“Maybe you should have. It sounds like it was an emotional trip.”

“It was,” you say “It was my first trip abroad. My first trip alone. The first time I spent more than a week away from my parents. More than a week away from my home and this tiny town.” you poked at the fire mindlessly, watching the embers pop and swirl up the chimney. “The first friends I made that weren’t from…..here” the last word tumbles off your tongue like a tired marathoner 10 feet from the finish line.

I looked you over as you sat on the opposite side of the couch, bundled in a knitted quilt you eyes staring through the fire and into the past. “You should have gone back.”

“I did.”
Continue reading “Chapter 9 – Delayed”

#Lazy

Picture borrowed from http://www.arkinspace.com/2010/03/lazy-lion.html

I’m not sure if it’s wanton laziness or just avoidance, but I have made little progress in my story these past two weeks. It’s just sat there and simmered. I have at least mulled things over in my head and tossed about potential struggles that the characters have to push against, but I have yet to write them.

I also mistakenly started on another story very much unlike the current A to Z story. It has potential and could be fun, but it’s a “short” that’s turning into a “long”. The result is that I’m quickly coming up at a point where maintaining my schedule may be difficult. I will have to buckle down and make some time for the creativity to flow and I have to do it soon.

Obviously these are self imposed deadlines and they won’t affect my personal or professional life at all, but breaking self imposed deadlines really sucks your motivation away. I just hate feeling….#lazy.

Truth #4

Do you still think about your first love?


This question is easy to answer. Yes.

Who doesn’t though?

Now there is a caveat to the answer and one also for the feeling. Everyone’s first love, at least while you’re feeling it, is the best, the deepest, the strongest, the most memorable. Then you mature and a few years after that whole teenage romance expires you feel a little bit of shame for the silliness you put yourself, your friends, and your family though. Was it ever love at all?

We find our path when we find our first love, but goodness we can’t walk straight to save our lives. A first love is full of silly petty arguments and odd reasoning that we’ve cobbled together. We blend a mix of behaviors; from how our friends who are couples interact, with how our parents interact with a dash of behavior gleaned from romantic comedies that we’ve seen on basic cable. It’s embarrassing, childish, and stupid, but we have to go through it so we can grow as individuals.

So yes, I remember my first love. Was she the deepest, strongest love I’ve ever felt? No, definitely not, but at the time I thought I’d die if I was separated from her. From time to time I’ll scour the internet for information on her as curiosity gets the better of me and I wonder “Where is she now?” The answer to that, which funny enough I found just recently, is that she’s married with a child, and one on the way. She still has that ridiculously large smile that I was enthralled with when we were together and she looks happy. I couldn’t wish for anything more.

Wrongful Dismissal

WrongfulDismissal_3-01

“I don’t understand. No. No I don’t. It shouldn’t be me that……fine….I said fine….yes… I’ll take care of it.” Placing the phone down gently you stare at it with icy eyes wishing the person on the other end of the line nothing but malice. “Chicken shit.” you mutter under your breath. Adjusting yourself and getting your hair back in place you straighten up and look over your computer at Mr. Huntington’s assistant. To your horror he happened to look up as you did, making brief eye contact and smiling at you. “Fuck” you mutter to yourself. It’s 4pm though and you can’t delay any longer. “Daniel? Can I get you to meet me in boardroom 1B? We need to talk about something.”

“Alright Evelyn. Do you need me to bring any of Mr. Huntington’s files?”

“No…..no…that’s quite alright. You go on ahead I just need to print something and I’ll be right in.”

“Ok E.” he says quickly, a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

“Fuck” you mutter to yourself again as you print out the general company form labeled “Reason for Dismissal”

Continue reading “Wrongful Dismissal”

Chapter 8 – Return to Sender

Chapter 8 – Return to Sender

Paris was exquisite. Paris was enchanting. Paris was the moment your heart opened to the world and begged for love. You loved Leon and the way he made you feel about yourself. You loved Michelle, demure, petite, feminine and butch simultaneously. You loved Celine, your spirit guide and first true friend. But now, as your body gets pushed back into the seat and the giant aircraft gracefully slides off into the sky, Paris and all of it’s charms has been pulled away from you. Your throat closes up and starts to ache and you can feel tears welling up behind the lids of your tightly shut eyes. Their faces slide through your memory. Moments in time you wish never stopped. The laughter, the tears, and all of it in between. The dream was over. The fantasy of living free beyond the reaches of restriction and subtle repression has slipped away from you like fog from the meadow as the sun slowly rises.

You were heading back to Canada and back to your parents. Certainly you missed them. You missed the manly embrace of your hard working father. You missed how his arms would nearly crush you, burying your head into his strong shoulders. His clothes smelling of pipe and cigar smoke mixed with diesel or some other odd farm odor. The smell was never unpleasant, but unique enough that there was no where else you could find it. You missed your mom who was equally hard working and gave equally rib shattering hugs. She certainly smelled better than your dad and her soft calm demeanor was such a perfect contrast to his rugged rough attitude. Thinking about them now you realized quite definitely that you indeed missed them, but that didn’t make leaving Paris any easier.

Continue reading “Chapter 8 – Return to Sender”

Truth #3

Do you have any addictions?

I was surprised at this question, and I was also surprised at it’s selection for this weeks truth. Apparently people want to know if I’m addicted to anything.

Well that’s difficult to answer.


ad·dic·tion – [uh-dik-shuh n] – noun

the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma.

Based on that definition, the answer would invariably be no. However I will modify it for the sake of discussion. Instead of cessation causing severe trauma, I would say “cessation causes discomfort”.

If I use this more broad definition, the answer is a big hefty yes.

First Addiction – Hockey

I’m addicted to playing hockey. I’m Canadian, so I’ve been on skates since I was three. (not an exaggeration) I played on my first organized hockey team when I was 5. It was a “7 and under” team, and though I was well under the 7, I played anyways. For a period of time I didn’t play hockey. University years specifically. I didn’t have the time or the cash to keep up with it. The first year I stopped playing I found myself more easily aggravated. Quick to snap. Quick to judge. Prone to road rage. Prone to violence against inanimate objects. Oh, and I also gained 20+ lbs. The next year, more of the same, but by this time it was my new “normal” so the symptoms weren’t noticeable by me until I looked back on how I was acting.

The year I returned to hockey, after a 5yr absence, my attitude completely corrected itself. I mellowed out. I started to let the mild daily nuisances wash over me instead of fixating on them as personal attacks. In essence I corrected my withdrawl symptoms by resuming my weekly intake of hockey.

To be clear, watching hockey does absolutely nothing for me. I don’t mind the NHL, the AHL, world juniors etc, but watching the game is no where close to the same release as playing it.

Now for the most obvious addiction. Sex.

I’d probably say I was definitely a sex addict…if only I had more regular access to the drug. My brain is constantly washed in sex. Constantly thinking about it. Writing about it. Musing about it. If it wasn’t for daily or twice daily masturbation I’d likely go crazy. Without that release that a good orgasm gives, I can’t concentrate. I’m nearly useless at work and I get nothing done at home. I have come to terms with my high sex drive and have gone to great lengths to mask it so as to not come off as a creepy weirdo. That being said, this mask I wear only works when I’m properly rested. If I go for long stretches without adequate sleep more often than not I will catch myself doing inappropriate things, or saying inappropriate things. Flirting with people I shouldn’t flirt with, looking up questionable material when I’m at work….all that sort of potentially harmful behavior. The truth is, most of my writing, maybe about 80-90% is written while I’m at work! I’m master of the alt-tab window switch. Perhaps most conveniently, I’m the most technologically savvy guy in the office, so it usually falls to me to maintain the network. Suffice to say, there isn’t any monitoring software that gets installed without my knowing, and being that I’m the one that would set it up…my ip address has a tendency to be….missed. 😉 Shhh don’t tell.

Ok that’s enough for now. Please be sure to vote for the next truth in the the sidebar poll. What is the next thing I should reveal? (and no worries….penis is not an option hahaha)

Secret Love

08 09 2012 017
If you had any idea how many nights and waking days I’ve dreamt about you. The feel of your skin on mine. The soft silky wrapping of your beautiful body. Every subtle curve. Every special scent unique to only you.
The way you hold your head. The way you toss your hair. You intoxicate me. You drive me wild. I long to kiss those lips. To look deep into your eyes and peer into your very soul. I want to whisper into your ear all the things I would do for you, all the things I would do with you, and all the things I would do to you.
To make you shiver. To make you gasp in excitement. I want you to close your eyes and think of me. I want you to lose your train of thought because you’re reminded of me. I want your body to ache for me like an addict longs for the needle. So when I come to visit, and we finally have our time together; there will be no questions, no need for blind trepidation.
You will be pulled to me by sexual gravity. You’ll hold me tight against your body. You’ll feel my strength exude from every pore. You’ll feel my fingers dance across your body knowing every secret special spot to touch. You’ll feel my lips run down your neck. You’ll feel my tongue slither across your breasts and beyond. You’ll hold me tight as you shake and shudder. You’ll gasp. You’ll moan. You’ll squirm and ache for more. You’ll look into my eyes and melt in my arms as I carry you away to a new reality.
See you soon.

Chapter 7 – A long time ago in Paris…

Chapter 7 – A long time ago in Paris…

We sat in your kitchen for longer than it really took to eat our soup and drink the tea you prepared. In truth both had gone quite cold by the time we had reached the last sip. There is some benefit to being naked on a first encounter in that no conversation could possibly be as awkward as the moment of unexpectedly shared nudity. We had a long conversation about where we were at in life, and what had brought us to this point. You grilled me on the stupidity of driving in a winter storm without proper shoes or jacket. I mockingly grilled you on the silliness of a woman taking in a stranger in the middle of the night, and how that’s how many horror movies start. You retorted with a quick quip about how that is how a lot of porno movies start as well, much to my amusement.

“You’ll have to wait out the storm.” you told me abruptly.

“To be honest, I hadn’t even thought about leaving.” I chuckled nervously, “I mean you’re such a gracious host.” to which you laughed as well.

“Well being that your car is in a ditch and we’re supposed to be getting even more snow throughout the night. No tow truck driver in his right mind would come and get you tonight. Besides, your clothes are completely soaked.” You continued, “No you’ll have to stay the night at least.”

“I’m surprisingly comfortable with that.” I say to you with a smirk on my face.

You realize all at once that we’re still sitting here, naked but for two small towels. One around my waist, and the other around your torso which was barely long enough to reach mid-thigh. “Ah, yes. Well I’m going to go get dressed now. I’ll see if I’ve got any of my dad’s old things left. He wasn’t exactly your size though.” Your dad was a typical Canadian farmer. Barrel chested, over 6 feet tall, and thick with years of farm work.

“Well, something is better than nothing.” I smile and then follow you out of the kitchen and down the hall. As I do so I look at the hallway pictures. Most are of your parents. Some are of your brothers and you as youngsters, but one picture stands out. “You have to tell me the story behind this picture Alcina.”

You stop in your tracks and turn to see the picture I’m looking at. “Oh goodness. That picture……” you pause for a moment, biting your lip and I catch you pushing back unwelcomed emotion. “That was in Paris……”

Truth #2

Have you traveled abroad and if so where?

 

Yes I have. I have visited the UK including England Scotland and Ireland. As well I took the ferry over and visited the beaches of Normandy and the vast allied grave sites. I’ve also had the pleasure of visiting Costa Rica and Ecuador.

 

Traveling is a great joy. I enjoy thinking about the next adventure and the next area to explore. I’d love to visit Africa and New Zealand soon. Machu Pichu and the Pyramids of Giza are high on my list as well.

Traveling is probably the single most important human experience out there. It ties us to our migratory past and allows us to get a glimpse into another world. You gain great enlightenment an understanding when you travel. Experiencing other cultures, other vistas, other animals and climates. It allows you to both appreciate what you have but what you don’t have and what this amazing planet has just waiting for you around the corner.