Blog, here's your list of things to remind me of:
List Of Things To Write For The Next Two Months:
1. DVD Reviews for DVD Verdict
2. Literary Adaption Screenplay
3. Experimental short film
List Of Things To Write For October and Novmber:
1. See #1 on the above list.
2. Revise second draft of Three Days To Passover
3. Revise either #2 or #3 above, depending on where your at.
(4.) Get to work on MAKING #3 if we're there yet.
List Of Things To Do Before Summer Ends
1. Salvage and/or re-write stuff from Mac hard drive (don't ask me about it, just do it!). Two short stories, one script fragment, one lost blog.
2. Prepare a query letter for agents and management types.
3. See comic book creation's progress through to some point.
OR
Have Greg see comic book creation's progress through to some point.
Have a great day at school, honey!
Dad
The Official Blog of Ike Oden
... Who is a writer of sorts.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
777
Forgive me Blog, for I have sinned,
It has been 7 days since my last confession. In that span of time, I have sinned repeatedly and with great precision, though not entirely consciously. I don't think.
For one thing, I have managed to neglect updating my posts, be it via email, Facebook, Twitter, or simply calling my friends back. I have been selfish with my time in this way, and deserve to be neglected on every front. However, the worst part about it is that I don't really feel bad about any of it. Much like the University during summer, most of these forums have been pretty much dead, devoid of any real activity, emotion, or thought. I have enjoyed living without them, but feel responsible for continuing them, despite the fact there will never be an end in sight for any of them. Oh, well.
Secondly, I have neglected focusing on finishing any ONE of my writings for the summer. Scripts remain undrafted, outlines uncomplted, and short stories unfinished. All of them are scattered like a trail of half devoured bread crumbs across the winding paths of my hard drive. None of them connect in any concrete way, and I fear it is going to be a while until I can follow one of them out. I need to get organized, pick my paths, and follow them out. Spreading and smattering my attention across the board is getting me knowhere.
Thirdly, I have watched Inception. Twice. With my Ladyfriend, which only sweetens the deal. However, I fear its only driving my above failures home even harder in its awe inspiring feats of cinematic grandeur. I want to see it again. And again. And again. One must keep in mind it took six years to write, so perhaps I shouldn't feel so bad about my lack of direction. Even Chris Nolan gets the blues, I suppose.
Finally, and perhaps finally, I have received my first screeners from DVD Verdict and am putting the finishing touches on my first review. I have a second to complete this week, and look forward to screening it. The reviews will be posted on Twitter, Facebook, and the usual suspects upon completion.
I repent these abhorrent writing sins and ask your forgiveness. In the name of the blogger, the reader, and the Holy Internet.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go get some groceries.
Amen
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
From the Dogsitting Archives: Episode 1 of 2
July 6th 2010
"No Blog But What We Make"-- from the Dogsitting Files
Blog: Initiate
Primary Directives
a) Chart Ike's writing progress
b) Provide forum for Ike's jokes/pop culture tastings
c) Serve The Public Trust
d) ?
a): Blog. I have been at my parent's house for roughly 72 hours. 48 of those hours have been spent 'on my lonesome', taking care of my parents cats and dogs and struggling to write something, anything. My results have been mixed. On the side of success, I have re-read the latest draft of my feature script, Three Days To Passover.
For those not in the know (you included, blog), the script, based off a story cooked up by myself and my brother, is a love letter to independent filmmaking and the never-say-die moxy of artists who dare to pursue their dream, however blasphemous or ill-informed they may be. After threeish drafts, an un-Godly long scriptment (a combined script and a treatment, like what James Cameron does, only not good), I'm thinking this upcoming fourthish draft (its hard to keep up with the various versions and adaptations made to this script) will be the charm, fixing structural fandango, synthesizing and defining my many characters, and carving out consistent motifs to run throughout the piece. I'll say this much, without any bragging: there's a good thirty page stretch to this one that's damn fucking awesome. Now just to make the rest of it like that...
Also, I'm nearing the finish line (I think) for a Young Adult short story. Its a first draft, but will probably come in around 30 pages, which is pretty impressive for something I started around two or three weeks ago. I've also started a super short story told in my native tongue, that of horror. I'm not sure where its going to end up, but its a depressing, rightfully vindictive piece of grue about bad parents. I don't want to jinx it, so that's all I'm going to say for now.
b) Um... I got nothing, really, I watched Jaws 2 & 3 yesterday. 2 remains a decent film, an achilles heel for any sequel to one of the most spectacularly spectacular films ever made. A Jaws sequel shouldn't be decent, it should either rock ass or, more realistically, suck ass. Damn Roy Scheider for his badass performance. It completely derailed most of the camp factor (up till the end, anyway). Jaws 3, however, is pure velveeta, grade B, completely generic from its Dennis Quaid and Louis Gosset, Jr. performances to the remarkably abysmal dialogue from screenwriting God Carl Gottlieb and horror/scifi God Richard Matheson. They DO bring it to the set pieces, however, which I'm sure looked spec-fuckin-tacular on paper, but, due to primitive animatronics, stop motion animation, and Sea World wankery. Joe Alves tries his hardest, but the man can't ape Spielberg as well as Jaws 2's Jeannot Swarzc, nor can he hide the strings from his audience, both in puppeteering his actors and his rubber sharks. Neither top the insanity that is Jaws 4, which is a movie I can only imagine would be horror cinema's equivalent to a bottle of absinthe (not that I ever imbibed down that road).
Also, I'm finishing up Sarah Connor Chronicles, which is still fucking amazing, and blah blah blah, I can't believe it was canceled/isn't being renewed. Super underrated show that, while not without its cheese (no show I've EVER seen isn't), manages to enrich the characters of Sarah & John Connor in ways that the post T2 sequels couldn't fathom (not to slight the other entries. Okay, not to slight Salvation).
c) I love you.
d) 000101000101010010101000001111010101010000101010101010101010101010101010000000100101010101010101
You're Terminated, fucker.
Harry Lime
"No Blog But What We Make"-- from the Dogsitting Files
Blog: Initiate
Primary Directives
a) Chart Ike's writing progress
b) Provide forum for Ike's jokes/pop culture tastings
c) Serve The Public Trust
d) ?
a): Blog. I have been at my parent's house for roughly 72 hours. 48 of those hours have been spent 'on my lonesome', taking care of my parents cats and dogs and struggling to write something, anything. My results have been mixed. On the side of success, I have re-read the latest draft of my feature script, Three Days To Passover.
For those not in the know (you included, blog), the script, based off a story cooked up by myself and my brother, is a love letter to independent filmmaking and the never-say-die moxy of artists who dare to pursue their dream, however blasphemous or ill-informed they may be. After threeish drafts, an un-Godly long scriptment (a combined script and a treatment, like what James Cameron does, only not good), I'm thinking this upcoming fourthish draft (its hard to keep up with the various versions and adaptations made to this script) will be the charm, fixing structural fandango, synthesizing and defining my many characters, and carving out consistent motifs to run throughout the piece. I'll say this much, without any bragging: there's a good thirty page stretch to this one that's damn fucking awesome. Now just to make the rest of it like that...
Also, I'm nearing the finish line (I think) for a Young Adult short story. Its a first draft, but will probably come in around 30 pages, which is pretty impressive for something I started around two or three weeks ago. I've also started a super short story told in my native tongue, that of horror. I'm not sure where its going to end up, but its a depressing, rightfully vindictive piece of grue about bad parents. I don't want to jinx it, so that's all I'm going to say for now.
b) Um... I got nothing, really, I watched Jaws 2 & 3 yesterday. 2 remains a decent film, an achilles heel for any sequel to one of the most spectacularly spectacular films ever made. A Jaws sequel shouldn't be decent, it should either rock ass or, more realistically, suck ass. Damn Roy Scheider for his badass performance. It completely derailed most of the camp factor (up till the end, anyway). Jaws 3, however, is pure velveeta, grade B, completely generic from its Dennis Quaid and Louis Gosset, Jr. performances to the remarkably abysmal dialogue from screenwriting God Carl Gottlieb and horror/scifi God Richard Matheson. They DO bring it to the set pieces, however, which I'm sure looked spec-fuckin-tacular on paper, but, due to primitive animatronics, stop motion animation, and Sea World wankery. Joe Alves tries his hardest, but the man can't ape Spielberg as well as Jaws 2's Jeannot Swarzc, nor can he hide the strings from his audience, both in puppeteering his actors and his rubber sharks. Neither top the insanity that is Jaws 4, which is a movie I can only imagine would be horror cinema's equivalent to a bottle of absinthe (not that I ever imbibed down that road).
Also, I'm finishing up Sarah Connor Chronicles, which is still fucking amazing, and blah blah blah, I can't believe it was canceled/isn't being renewed. Super underrated show that, while not without its cheese (no show I've EVER seen isn't), manages to enrich the characters of Sarah & John Connor in ways that the post T2 sequels couldn't fathom (not to slight the other entries. Okay, not to slight Salvation).
c) I love you.
d) 000101000101010010101000001111010101010000101010101010101010101010101010000000100101010101010101
You're Terminated, fucker.
Harry Lime
Green Inferno
Harry Lime's War Blog:
07.12.2010
We've been out here in the shit for days now, but it feels like seasons. Years, even. The quaint topography has grown into a twisted jungle canopy that feels like its growing denser around us. The heat is rising, the sun baking us, turning our skin to ash. The air is so thick that I have to choke out every breath that fills our collective lungs. Soon, what remains of us will be skeletal debris inside the flames of a green inferno. I know this because he knows this. It knows this, and the jungle knows this.
The platoon is dwindling. Karosene Joe disappeared first. All that we found that was left of him was his trusty Silverado flask, the one with the skeletal cowboys dancing drunkenly across the base. The paint thinner Kentucky moon shine it was once filled with, "The Kerosene" as Joe dubbed it, in keeping with his namesake, was had all but spilled from it unscrewed top.
"Painkiller" Jayne was next, a couple hours later. His fine black leather medical kit was ripped apart like grated cheese, and his scalpel was soaked in a neon green splash none of us could identify. It wasn't human, whatever it was.
"Sloop" John B. "Ratchet" Quagmire. Even the good, God fearing Corporal "Corinthian" Cleaver, a man whose combat record made Patton's ghost weep like a sinner in the hands of an angry Christ...
I fear they're all dead.
Now, its just me, the loathe "Howlin'" Harry, a coward more equipped with flight than might, and "Stagman" Landham, an unhinged Native American of nondescript origins with a passion for politics, scary laugh, and a history in the adult film industry he's tried to keep quiet since he got here. The two of us, despite our mutual differences, must stay together despite all odds. He's sleeping now. Soon, it'll be his shift, and tomorrow we can get out of this God forsaken Guatemalan hell hole.
Wait. I... I thought I saw something in the trees. Not a person, but a glimmer of light and then... maybe my mind is playing tricks on me. They took all us marines through the crazy paces when we signed up. I know I'm not shell shocked, not yet, but could this be a sign its starting? My mind is finally faltering. How else would I be hearing Jayne's whispers as I write this. I can't wake Landham up. Not yet. Not if I'm truly unhinged, as I think I finally am. No, I'll just walk over to the bush and see... see what's going on. After all, maybe Jayne got away. Maybe he found rescue, contacted home base. I'm just going to take a quick peak.
But wait. Its only now I realize that the Indian next to me isn't sleeping anymore. You'd have to be breathing to sleep. I'm not even going to grab for my gun, I'm just going to keep writing this blog and if it isn't finished, tell Jane for me, tell her I----
______________________________________________________
... I mean, I saw "Predators" over the weekend, and it was fucking awesome. Not flawless, but a badass sequel that, yes, is probably slightly better than Predator 2. But it doesn't have Mike Harrigan, so its not that much better. A near-classic sequel, and there you go.
ALSO, I got a job writing for DVD Verdict.com. I'm going to start on a probationary period to see I fit what they're looking for, but I feel pretty optimistic about it thus far. Apparently I have MTI Home Releases and Michael Dudikoff in my near future, according to a certain Newfoundland based Judge I know through Facebook (Steve T Power). I say... bring it on! I've loved the site since I was 14 and consider it an honor and a privilege to even get a shot at being on the team.
Tomorrow I have a job interview, finally and thanks to the help of my brother (who I owe a debt of gratitude if it pans out), which is pretty darned exciting, so I'm getting stoked for that.
This weekend I managed to work my way through over half of Silent Hill 3, which is scaring the bejesus out of me and lighting a fire in my pants to write and direct an experimental horror short with my OU video production cronies, Here's to hoping I can pan that abstract ambition out. I'm also eying the finish line for a Young Adult noir short story I've been working on for the past month or so, but am having a great deal of trouble finding my footing after a weekend-long vacation. Hence, the new blog AND some twenty minute writing exercises with my mucho talented life partner.
And finally, I have fully recovered from my experiences dog sitting for my parents. I have blogs chronicling my output which shall be posted later this week.
That's It.
Ain't Got Time To Bleed.
Harry Lime
Friday, July 2, 2010
"You're just a tourist with a typewriter, Barton, I live here. "
Look Blog,
I don't know what exactly you're expecting from me with this entry. Today's scribbling proved robust and plentiful. Not only have you, my writing blog, become a hit with something like 5ish of my friends (some strictly internet, some not), but I managed to write about ten pages worth of hard-boiled pulp. This was, in part, thanks to my darling muse taking the Leonard (my stepson) reigns and allowing me to go to Ohio University's beautiful, musty Alden Library, whose computers pack the Microsoft Word needed to contain the utterly debilitating power of my prose.
My own laptop is on its last legs, complete with flickering monitor and faulty power source, so its a treat to work on a computer that doesn't freeze up every five minutes. Lets never take working technology for granted ever again, and promise we'll be best friends even after the summer is over and we have to go back to school to be with our regular friends-- no matter what the cool kids or the jocks say, social castes will not separate us, blog! Our love goes far beyond anything they could comprehend with their adolescent hormones. Lets run away together! Go far away from here, to Mexico, where I'll become a clam fishermen. We'll start a family and make passionate love on the beach every evening at sunset! Who cares if Mexico's beaches are littered with mountains of soiled prophylactics, used hypodermic needles, and dead bodies. We'll tell the rat race to go to hell and live life for us and us alone. Isn't that worth fighting for? Isn't that worth dying for? Take me in your arms and ravish me, you fool!
Ah. Well, okay, I guess that's not going to happen, as I'm not really apart of any 'rat race', High School (thank God) or employment wise. I'm trying to rectify my employment issues to little avail. Yes, I looked into Long John Silvers. Yes, they haven't gotten back to me. Said fate is better than the looks of disdain I got when applying to a certain all-organic friendly farm-cooperative pseudo-Mexican-restaurant/swill-hole in downtown Athens. I won't name names, but this establishment, oh, lets call it The Casa, apparently look down on those applying to their establishment if they don't dress like a hobo, have tribal tattoos, or hold sway in some sort of monetarily unsuccessful rock group.
Yes, I know, the term is 'indie,' but, lets face it, it might as well be 'music rapist' when it comes to most of the auditory endeavors plaguing Athens. I would name a handful of those that aren't lumped into this category, but I'm in a bad mood and avoid admitting nepotism at all costs, for fear of being labeled a hypocrite. What? The band that followed yours at The Union sucked? Oh, man, that's too bad. I know you were really pulling for them to blow your set away, you envious, no talent alcoholic bag of fuck. You---
Ah, again. I'm going off on another tangent, aren't I? Okay, job frustrations aside, I have gotten quite a bit o' writing done this month, such as:
1. Put the finishing touches on the second-thirdish draft of a comic script
2. Wrote roughly twenty pages of hard nosed, investigatory crime solver guy stuff
3. Transcribed roughly four notebooks worth of movie/short story/comedy sketch/comic book ideas onto my computers, flash, and hard drives, respectively
4. Started this awesome, hyper sexual blog
5. Submitted a script to a literary magazine
6. Submitted a writing sample to a DVD review site
Not to mention I...
1. Graduated from OU with my Bachelor's Degree in Video Production
2. Applied to something like 20 jobs
3. Finished up a season of everyone's favorite indie (re: above definition) movie review web show, Greg & Satan At The Movies
4. Sold a bunch of DVDs on Ebay for exorbitant prices
5. Read a shit ton of comics!
So yeah, this last month has been pretty good to me, work/productive wise. It might not always seem like that, but that's because I'm a workaholic whose completely unable to relax if I'm not working toward some sort of goal meant to 'better myself,' however futile the idea is in what can only be a Godless universe built on a philosophy chaos; whose random events and tragedies ruin and take the lives of thousands every day with no just purpose or reason.
Or, yeah, maybe I'm doing it for the piece of mind of myself and my family. That works, too.
To close this blog out, let me say that I'll be 'off the grid' for the next week or so, working and house sitting for my parents and their beloved animals. While isolated their, I hope to get a lot of reading, writing, and movie watching done, to boot, not to mention some maximum R&R camping out with Jayme and Dylan.
Also, I watched Barton Fink today. That movie gets better and better every day. But, you're a super smart blog. You get my movie references. You know me so well.
xoxoxox
Harry Lime
I don't know what exactly you're expecting from me with this entry. Today's scribbling proved robust and plentiful. Not only have you, my writing blog, become a hit with something like 5ish of my friends (some strictly internet, some not), but I managed to write about ten pages worth of hard-boiled pulp. This was, in part, thanks to my darling muse taking the Leonard (my stepson) reigns and allowing me to go to Ohio University's beautiful, musty Alden Library, whose computers pack the Microsoft Word needed to contain the utterly debilitating power of my prose.
My own laptop is on its last legs, complete with flickering monitor and faulty power source, so its a treat to work on a computer that doesn't freeze up every five minutes. Lets never take working technology for granted ever again, and promise we'll be best friends even after the summer is over and we have to go back to school to be with our regular friends-- no matter what the cool kids or the jocks say, social castes will not separate us, blog! Our love goes far beyond anything they could comprehend with their adolescent hormones. Lets run away together! Go far away from here, to Mexico, where I'll become a clam fishermen. We'll start a family and make passionate love on the beach every evening at sunset! Who cares if Mexico's beaches are littered with mountains of soiled prophylactics, used hypodermic needles, and dead bodies. We'll tell the rat race to go to hell and live life for us and us alone. Isn't that worth fighting for? Isn't that worth dying for? Take me in your arms and ravish me, you fool!
Ah. Well, okay, I guess that's not going to happen, as I'm not really apart of any 'rat race', High School (thank God) or employment wise. I'm trying to rectify my employment issues to little avail. Yes, I looked into Long John Silvers. Yes, they haven't gotten back to me. Said fate is better than the looks of disdain I got when applying to a certain all-organic friendly farm-cooperative pseudo-Mexican-restaurant/swill-hole in downtown Athens. I won't name names, but this establishment, oh, lets call it The Casa, apparently look down on those applying to their establishment if they don't dress like a hobo, have tribal tattoos, or hold sway in some sort of monetarily unsuccessful rock group.
Yes, I know, the term is 'indie,' but, lets face it, it might as well be 'music rapist' when it comes to most of the auditory endeavors plaguing Athens. I would name a handful of those that aren't lumped into this category, but I'm in a bad mood and avoid admitting nepotism at all costs, for fear of being labeled a hypocrite. What? The band that followed yours at The Union sucked? Oh, man, that's too bad. I know you were really pulling for them to blow your set away, you envious, no talent alcoholic bag of fuck. You---
Ah, again. I'm going off on another tangent, aren't I? Okay, job frustrations aside, I have gotten quite a bit o' writing done this month, such as:
1. Put the finishing touches on the second-thirdish draft of a comic script
2. Wrote roughly twenty pages of hard nosed, investigatory crime solver guy stuff
3. Transcribed roughly four notebooks worth of movie/short story/comedy sketch/comic book ideas onto my computers, flash, and hard drives, respectively
4. Started this awesome, hyper sexual blog
5. Submitted a script to a literary magazine
6. Submitted a writing sample to a DVD review site
Not to mention I...
1. Graduated from OU with my Bachelor's Degree in Video Production
2. Applied to something like 20 jobs
3. Finished up a season of everyone's favorite indie (re: above definition) movie review web show, Greg & Satan At The Movies
4. Sold a bunch of DVDs on Ebay for exorbitant prices
5. Read a shit ton of comics!
So yeah, this last month has been pretty good to me, work/productive wise. It might not always seem like that, but that's because I'm a workaholic whose completely unable to relax if I'm not working toward some sort of goal meant to 'better myself,' however futile the idea is in what can only be a Godless universe built on a philosophy chaos; whose random events and tragedies ruin and take the lives of thousands every day with no just purpose or reason.
Or, yeah, maybe I'm doing it for the piece of mind of myself and my family. That works, too.
To close this blog out, let me say that I'll be 'off the grid' for the next week or so, working and house sitting for my parents and their beloved animals. While isolated their, I hope to get a lot of reading, writing, and movie watching done, to boot, not to mention some maximum R&R camping out with Jayme and Dylan.
Also, I watched Barton Fink today. That movie gets better and better every day. But, you're a super smart blog. You get my movie references. You know me so well.
xoxoxox
Harry Lime
Switchblade Honey
Hello blog,
How are you doing? You look nice. A little pedestrian in design, but handsome nonetheless. Listen, before we do this, I need to tell you something. Nothing too heavy, but I'm a writer who doesn't like to keep secrets from his page, and you need to know this if we're going to really give it a go. Okay, ready? Here goes. You're not my first blog. To put it more precisely, you're something like my10th blog. Please, I know its a bit soon to drop that bomb on you, but allow me to explain.
I have a problem, see. I tend to start things-- Twitter accounts (see below), MySpace pages (don't see below), Facebook pages (see below), etc-- with the knowledge that I will most certainly fall out of love with them. We'll take a break for a while, or become 'just friends', or maybe break up completely (see MySpace), but this time its going to be different. This time, me and blog are going into this openly as a Topsy Turvy, whirlwind romance with the full knowledge that this fling might not last the test of time. But that doesn't mean we can't have a good time, right?
C'mere, baby. I'm taking you out for a night on the town, for God and everyone else to read. I'm gonna blow your mind, and whisper the following heartfelt, earth shattering realization in your ear: you are going to be my writing blog.
That's right, honey. I'm writing you to highlight and track the progress of my other writings.
A kinky concept, I know, one spurred in part by poking and prodding from my real life girlfriend, Jayme Russell, who is currently updating hers on a daily basis to plot and plan her publication attack formations, goals for literary survival, cutthroat contest submitting, etc. She's taking the bull by the horns and documenting every second of it at her awesome blog, which I suggest you check out for a preview of the scintillating delights to come. I can only hope this blog is half as good. Hers was, in part, inspired by the blog of her good friend and Ultimate Writer Champion Ashley Cowger. We call that giving credit where credit is due.
Rather than try to take advantage of you on the first date, I've decided to start things out slow. We'll build to that mind erasing crescendo later. For now, let me chart my writing progress for the day:
I spent all day swimming with the fam and friends at Burr Oak in Glouster, Ohio.
... And I made this blog.
Yup.
Well, this is awkward, isn't it? Let me just say that tomorrow (which, this being 3:50 am, is really more like today) I'll be spending the WHOLE DAY working on a short story (my first shot at straight fiction in something like a year) and seeking out idiosyncratic venues to show off my already established writing, as I've just now gotten into this whole publication game (the one issue of Rue Morgue I weaseled myself into seems pretty distant now) and need to be working toward said goal with the vigor and tenacity of a starving cannibal.
Tasteful yet passionate kiss,
Harry Lime
How are you doing? You look nice. A little pedestrian in design, but handsome nonetheless. Listen, before we do this, I need to tell you something. Nothing too heavy, but I'm a writer who doesn't like to keep secrets from his page, and you need to know this if we're going to really give it a go. Okay, ready? Here goes. You're not my first blog. To put it more precisely, you're something like my10th blog. Please, I know its a bit soon to drop that bomb on you, but allow me to explain.
I have a problem, see. I tend to start things-- Twitter accounts (see below), MySpace pages (don't see below), Facebook pages (see below), etc-- with the knowledge that I will most certainly fall out of love with them. We'll take a break for a while, or become 'just friends', or maybe break up completely (see MySpace), but this time its going to be different. This time, me and blog are going into this openly as a Topsy Turvy, whirlwind romance with the full knowledge that this fling might not last the test of time. But that doesn't mean we can't have a good time, right?
C'mere, baby. I'm taking you out for a night on the town, for God and everyone else to read. I'm gonna blow your mind, and whisper the following heartfelt, earth shattering realization in your ear: you are going to be my writing blog.
That's right, honey. I'm writing you to highlight and track the progress of my other writings.
A kinky concept, I know, one spurred in part by poking and prodding from my real life girlfriend, Jayme Russell, who is currently updating hers on a daily basis to plot and plan her publication attack formations, goals for literary survival, cutthroat contest submitting, etc. She's taking the bull by the horns and documenting every second of it at her awesome blog, which I suggest you check out for a preview of the scintillating delights to come. I can only hope this blog is half as good. Hers was, in part, inspired by the blog of her good friend and Ultimate Writer Champion Ashley Cowger. We call that giving credit where credit is due.
Rather than try to take advantage of you on the first date, I've decided to start things out slow. We'll build to that mind erasing crescendo later. For now, let me chart my writing progress for the day:
I spent all day swimming with the fam and friends at Burr Oak in Glouster, Ohio.
... And I made this blog.
Yup.
Well, this is awkward, isn't it? Let me just say that tomorrow (which, this being 3:50 am, is really more like today) I'll be spending the WHOLE DAY working on a short story (my first shot at straight fiction in something like a year) and seeking out idiosyncratic venues to show off my already established writing, as I've just now gotten into this whole publication game (the one issue of Rue Morgue I weaseled myself into seems pretty distant now) and need to be working toward said goal with the vigor and tenacity of a starving cannibal.
Tasteful yet passionate kiss,
Harry Lime
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