Here I sit, trying to think of something to write . . . lacking a bolt of inspiration, I start writing anyway not knowing where the words will lead me.
Almost all of my fiction starts out that way. I sit in front of the keyboard and start typing without even a hint of a roadmap in front of me.
Occasionally, I have a picture. A mental picture. THIS story (bottom of the post) came from a mental image of a guy out in the rain. What was he doing there? Even after roughly 200 words, I had no idea where I was going . . . but I like where I ended up.
Say . . . I could try that here!
Nah . . . I’m not listening to the right kind of music. The current playlist is all songs; when writing fiction, I need instrumentals. Epic Music is my preferred writing lubricant but I can also do well with a non-stop dose of Enigma.
If it’s absolutely quiet, I can write without music. When I’m up late writing, I often sit in quiet inspiration. That, unfortunately, is rare. We’ve always had neighbors and neighbors have dogs and dogs bark. Also, neighbors have offspring and offspring are noisy and inconsiderate in their love for loud music or loud cars or just making noise. Also, neighbors are noisy and inconsiderate. Basically, neighbors suck.
The current condo is surprisingly quiet considering there are over 200 units in the complex and most of them are families. Of course, it helps we have small and noisy AC units masking any noise they might make. Still, I pick up the base of the music the guy downstairs plays. Or maybe it’s movies, although I hear it the mornings on weekends so I’m betting music.
It’s a small inconvenience for now and it mostly only affects me because — having lost most of my high-frequency hearing — I’m super sensitive to bass (not the type of fish or shoe brand; the music term) and/or any other low-frequency sounds. Melisa typically doesn’t register them and looks at me like I’m crazy when I do my best Ghost Hunters impression . . . “did you hear that?” I ask as I turn my head at odd angles trying to localize the direction of the real or imagined offending sound.
Anyway, it’s not a big deal because one, I’m not writing fiction and, two, I’m usually wearing headphones. If need be, I have noise-canceling headphones. And if still necessary, I crank up the music to a level that will damage the rest of my hearing.
And now, the photo:
That’s a scene from one of the many peaks in the Rocky Mountain National Park. I thought it needed a squiggly effect so as to make it less recognizable to anyone who’s been reading my blog since 2010 and who also happens to read the totality of each post and look at all of the usual two-three-hundred photos per blog post and has a photographic memory.
The lack of tall trees indicates we were at least at 12,000 feet in elevation if not a tad higher.
As I’m struggling to draw realistic characters, I still marvel at how few lines are necessary to draw Willy ‘n Ethel. I really need to take those drawing classes I signed up for. Time is running out for me if I have any intention of becoming a famous cartoonist.
I should probably offer up a few Mr. Boffo cartoons as a way of giving readers a break from Willy ‘n Ethel. Probably, soon.
I should probably also do a separate post showing a few of the actual drawings I produced instead of these animated GIFs and/or mandalas I’ve showcased.
For now, I give you Candy Spiral.
And . . . that’s it
Some of these posts will likely be longer as the mood hits me, but most will be thus; short, uninteresting, bland, and relentless.
You can read about Project 313 HERE.
That’s it. This post has ended . . . except for the stuff below.
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. . . my FP ward . . . chieken shit.
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