As A Writer...

One of the problems I've encountered as a writer is people.

People whom I have relationships with, or have had relationships with, and I'm not just talking the touchy-feely-kissy-nudge-nudge-wink-wink relationships, I am talking the awkward-making-out-at-a-party relationships, the I'm-on-the-rebound relationships, and the friendships, the working partnerships, the professional detachments between myself and other writers I may have come to dislike for whatever reason or who have certain let's call them foibles that bug me...anyway, you get the picture. People I know or used to know are a problem because aspects of them keep cropping up in my writing and sometimes, they then crop up in my life. Where this really falls down is when aspects of them crop up in my writing and they notice it and are angry, furious, or otherwise unflattered about the whole situation.

Well, look, you write what you know, and you write what you experience and observe and imagine, and so what you do is you take what you've experienced from observations of people and imagine how they'd react in situations you've observed or experienced and...yeah. Every character I create is just as much me as it is somebody else. Anyway, the problem is that sometimes, I can't detach myself enough and so, for years, for example, every story I wrote about a girl who broke up with a guy was strictly about a girl I dated in 1999. Now, when I write stories about guys and girls dating, or breaking up, or whatever, it is not about her at all. She's dead. Well, no, but there's no character left to get out of her because I wrote her to death.

No, where it all comes from now is those that I have dated since her. So, that means aspects of girls I psuedo-dated, and other girls I just had crushes on but never really got together with and, of course, the last two I dated before meeting Kathy...but mostly the one right before Kathy because when a story is written, a source of conflict is needed and it's very easy to think of conflict when thinking about her. So, in my most recent story, titled "Look At How Damn Ugly The Stars Are" (which is a reference to an Alkaline Trio song, which is an aspect of the other of these two girls, so, you see, it's not all the one girl...), it is very easy to see that Brooke (who I used in a screenplay) is based heavily on this particular ex, moreso than Brooke in the screenplay because I needed certain aspects of her life, and our relationship, and, well, anyway, the parts that are true and those that aren't will not be clear to everybody. I know. If she crops up and reads it, she will know what is truth and what is fiction.

The point I am trying to make is, as a writer, or as any artist, the subject is so delicate if you're worried about hurting peoples' feelings, so I am no longer going to worry about it anymore.

Lincoln, NE

So, how is this for bizzarre: I am staying in Lincoln, NE tonight (with Steve and Carissa, otherwise known as one pair of the plethora of in-laws I married into) but tomorrow night my cousin Ryan is going to be in Lincoln, NE with his band The Vultures, on a tour of the midwest. How random is that?

So, the new car did well, and so far no mishaps on this road trip. We'll see how long that lasts. Let's see...what has happened on road trips thus far...

On the way to Dave and Jessica's wedding in Davenport, my car died at a gas station in Iowa. I got it started forty-five minutes later, then ended up at the Holiday Inn in Davenport when I was supposed to be at the one in Bettendorf. On the way back down to St. Louis my car died at a rest stop in another part of Iowa and couldn't get it restarted until an hour later.

While I was visiting Kathy in the Twin Cities, I got a parking ticket on the U of M Campus because of the stupid plow schedule.

When Kathy was coming to visit for spring break, she went to the left off the road and into the ditch, putting a large hole in her gas tank. This happened about eight miles north of Bowling Green, Missouri. It took about four days to fix it, then we had to drive up Bowling Green to get it back.

I got another parking ticket when I drove up to Minnesota to move Kathy down to St. Louis. This time, it was the street-cleaning schedule.

Kathy and I drove up to Minneapolis for her job interview with IBS and, on the way, we spilled a soda on the floormat of her car. Then, stopping on the East Bank of the UM campus for dinner, our parking meter expired and we got a parking ticket. When we woke up the next morning, we found somebody had shot out four of our car windows with a beebee gun. So, while we waited for the insurance company to figure out how they were going to screw us (only, they didn't because we're too smart for them), we got word that a snowstorm was brewing. The next day, there was about six inches on the ground and the snow was still falling. On the way back down to St. Louis, I got a speeding ticket in Moscow Mills, MO, about 45 miles from home.

On our last road trip, my car overheated in Ainsworth, Iowa. It turns out, the water pump failed and the timing belt melted.

So far, so good on this road trip.

Why Can't I Be Myself?

*UPDATED TO REFLECT WHO JERRY THINKS I ACTUALLY LOOK LIKE*

Jerry thinks I look like Jonathan Togo who plays Ryan Wolfe on CSI:Miami. But, according to Jerry I used to look like Eddie Cahill who played Jimmy Craig in Miracle. Strangely enough, Eddie Cahill played Det. Don Flack on CSI:NY. But, before I looked like Eddie Cahill, I used to look like Colin from Mustard Plug.

Why, Jerry, why can't I just be me?

Also, my sister Maureen and her husband Kevin have a blog, as does my one year old cousin Mia, though her parents really are the ones running that site.

My wife's entire family has a website that we use to keep in touch with each other, which is kind of nice. And there you have it, a useless post that I did just to show you how I can make links easy and fun.

Discussed in this post:

Flash Fiction

Flash fiction is not fiction in which all of the characters take off their tops, unfortunately. According to the assignment guidelines, it's under 500 words. Conflict, crisis, resolution, 500 words or less. I'm scared.

This looks like fun. Bet you didn't know I knew basic html, did you?

Edmonton Just Scored...

...and I'm sitting in my parents' living room. This is where I am right now, looking to see where I can submit some of my writing. Oh, wait, I am not a writer.

Poetry Award II

Originally posted Superbowl Sunday, but something happened to my blog...

So, Poetry Award girl dropped out of my Fiction class. That's too bad, but I guess winning a poetry award at age eleven doesn't prepare you for the rigors of a community college fiction writing class...ridiculousness.

Also, I have a gripe about one person who visits my blog occasionally. Hey, Turbochubs, why don't you ever update your blog? Jerk.

So, I've been watching the superbowl since it started at 4:30. I think I've actually seen about five or six minutes of actual football. More ridiculousness.

I am not going to Disney World.

Huh?

Boy, what happened to my blog? It went all cock-eyed coo-coo crazy. Not cool.