BEAT UP BEATNIK BREAKS OFF THE NARRATIVE TEMPORARILY

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This writing machine will shut down, most likely, for several days. In two hours, I'm off to get a tooth pulled. #21. Then comes Thanksgiving. P'rhaps some family will show up? Who knows?

I'm not going to say much this morning ... I don't think. I had a short burst of creative juice yesterday, saw my way through to a new ending that will cause the novel to run one or two more chapters longer. Several potential endings are in mind. One is a pretty nifty surprise. Some are upbeat and some not so upbeat. Not sure which will win out. 


Just because I see the ending, doesn't mean it's a done deal. Truth is, though I know what "actions" need to happen, there's still the problem of making sure I get all the information in too and in proper order, i.e. the background stuff that's been hidden from the reader so that everything makes sense and comes to a neat conclusion. I do have one line I want Charley Manning to assert near the end: "This investigation ain't no neatly plotted book, pal. There ain't no smoking gun. Just a lot of smoke, mostly, and a dozen suspicions."

More than once, lately, I've felt no impulse to finish the book, almost a fear of completing it. Could it be that I don't want to have to send it around and find out no agent wants it? I'm reading a Sam Beckett bio too. Don't know why I do it to myself. That's not my ambition at this time ... to win a Nobel Prize.

Wrote more than I planned to, didn't I?

HEADLINE: BEATNIK COMMUNIST SAP IS FINISHED

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. America from border to border and coast to coast and all the ships at sea. Let's go to press."

It has been reported to this columnist, your pal among the infamous, friend of Joe McCarthy and Milhous Nixon, that the novel of communist sympathizer and loose cannon, Mr. George Thomas, is suffering from faulty plumbing. The strings of his violin are snapped. Mr. Thomas was spotted at his favorite club, the Torque, in the heart of downtown Vancouver, crying the blues to his ever-loving partner and confidant, Ms. Mertie Duncan. It has been reported to this columnist from various sources around town that novelist Thomas hasn't got a finish. He hasn't got an ending. He's hanging out there in his communist commune, his pinko heaven, surrounded by various cronies and communist saps, and he's going bust. That you can take as golden from this columnist, your truly, 

You Know Who?

DALLAS COWBOYS, NEW ENGLAND PATRIOTS & GONZAGA BULLDOGS

In the Vancouver library downtown, 4th floor, in winter gear, eyes on Portland in the distance. Mertie started her new job today, and my thoughts are with her. They've got a 6 months trial period. The job will carry a load of responsibility and human contact. She likes working with people. She'll get lots of that. I'm hoping she relishes the work and is happy there. 

The Manning novel continues apace. The conclusion is not that far ahead. Yesterday, I was unexplainably joyous, even though the Seahawks lost. What happened to all their brag about a dynasty? Meanwhile, the real American team, the Patriots, continues to chalk up wins and perform well season after season and, also, so do the Gonzaga Bulldogs who play SMU tonight at 8pm. Whoever decided the Dallas Cowboys was America's team when it's, obviously, the Patriots? 

THE HAUNTED BEATNIK WALKS THE COLUMBIA RIVER

Walked by the Columbia River this afternoon, a golden time, the sun slanting low toward the horizon and long shadows spilled across the grass. 

only 3:30 and looks eveningish

An old phantom came to haunt my morning as I was writing at the Torque. How do I explain it? It's a destructive little snot. I've no idea how to explain why it comes nor where it comes from. It appears in my consciousness unasked and carries with it a troubling sensation. The sum total of the sensation is that I don't feel like a writer. The sensation says: "Hey, who do you think you are, trying to write a novel? You're not a writer, silly goose." I deeply experience this sensation, so deeply that it convinces me momentarily of its undeniable truth. 

My father seems to haunt the edges of it when it comes. Could be that when I sent him a bound copy of my MFA poetry thesis, he told me he hadn't read it because he didn't understand it. Maybe that's why his image is always a part of the sensation that materializes within the synapses of my brain. The thoughts that become clear when I'm feeling this sensation is my middle class, working class background and my wage earning dad who, actually, was a self-taught tool designer, a pretty technically difficult job that he learned on the job. Anyway, I put my head down and kept at, and, finally, had a pretty good morning and early afternoon of writing.

PLOTS AND BEATNIK SCHEMES

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This entry will be rough and ready, folks. Today, I roughed out an outline for the final chapters. Something I was told I ought to do for the whole novel. Now that I see how easy it is, I might do it on my next novel. Next novel? Am I kidding myself? The final scenes might be as many as five chapters. Don't know, yet, how many words each step I've outlined will take to reveal. Funny how this writing process leads to ups and downs. I'm stimulated again, and I ain't seen the sun for many a day. I'm learning to love my rainy morning drives. Bottoms up and look out ahead! My windshield wiper's broke ... I guess. 

HO HO HO CHI MINH CITY: P I MANNING PORTLAND

The Manning novel is moving to a foreign city. You can see it by clicking and going for a ride in a city full of mopeds. Of course, no one knows how the city will look in the Fifth Century AS [Age of Science] as opposed to Sixteenth Century BS [Before Science]. Probably all transportation will be electric vehicles and called trics. That's the time this scifi piece is set in. Had a great week of writing. Moving ahead full steam. Momentum is building. Even after I finish this first draft, there will remain a rewrite for style, consistency and polish. You know, friends, in the last two years, I've rewritten two novels and written nearly a completely new novel. Pretty solid effort.