My wife on New Year's Day bought a car that looks just like the one to your left. Recently, another short story was rejected of the four I sent off with very high hopes. Two remain out in the world unaccounted for.
My spirits aren't very high today, but it has nothing to do with rejections. I didn't sleep well last night. When I'm tired, my experience is that negativity can get a foot in the door and kick my ass, but the work on my science fiction film script continues apace. Today was productive. Will wait patiently for tomorrow.
Speaking of low spirits, off in the corner of the coffee shop I'm writing in, two men are talking loudly about their ideas about their god. One's voice is labored and stumbling. His voice is precisely the voice, intonation and rhythms of a young child repeating to a parent what he has learned in Sunday school, but the man's in his 70s or 80s. Of course, his way of speaking might be the result of a stroke. It's that halting and labored. Makes me very sad about fundamentalist religious folk. And fearful too.
My current reading is Yukio Mishima's The Sound of Waves.
I'm not making the suggested every other day entries in my blog. That pace is supposed to keep people interested in my bucket list quest to get someone other than myself to publish one of several novels I've written over the decades and recently rewritten... before I die. I'm still sending out queries while I continue to work on a nameless, so far, science fiction screenplay. Looking into buying software for script writing, but some appear to be so loaded with goodies they'll create a slowdown while I learn yet another software program. Slugline is quite simple, but it must be downloaded into a more complex script writing program to prepare it for electronic submission. Frustration, then I came across a simple macro-enabled format that will give me what I need to create a script for electronic submission... I hope. I'll have to become more familiar with macros. I've used them in the past, but not recently. I've had some really powerful internal moments lately that feel like the attitudes of a successful writer. Now... will that come true?
Reading: just finished Yukio Mishima's Confessions of a Mask and have commenced to read a change of pace novel, Craig Lesley's Winterkill. Mask is a first person interior monologue while Winterkill is presented by a third person narrator. The first is full of confessional abstractions, the other full of concrete details. Thank you for checking in on my progress whoever you are, and if you're on the same quest as I am, good luck to you.
Have been doing nothing for the last several days except play games and eat because it was turkey day for those who aren't vegans and spaghetti day for those of us who are, and Mertie and I had family over from Spokane and down from Seattle to feed and partly house. Looking forward to tomorrow and return to sci-fi script I began two [?] weeks past. But I also had the emotional energy for a novel enter my brain tonight and perk up my synapses. If it's still with me tomorrow, I might try to type down the beginning scene for it. It would open with a half-ass suicide attempt and continue from there, backwards and forward in time... maybe. Today, I sent out two queries for my novel The Man In the Mirror and a question about my novel Angie's Choice to a small film company, wondering if they'd like to read it with a movie in mind. Hope everyone had an enjoyable and dietary Thanksgiving. Jeez, we ate so many bagels and pieces of pie with ice cream made with almond milk that our dietary regime blew South with the wind. Current reading is Yukio Mishima's Confessions of a Mask, basically a confessional novel about his homosexuality in the 1940s and 1950s.
