10 Minute Rule

This has been a relatively productive writing day. I am at the point in the revision where I am getting into the tough stuff–the heart of the conversation that shapes what the next thirty chapters will be. I’m worried about it, because I poured a ton of character development into these first 32,000 words and 72 pages and if I cannot get this section right, the book will fall flat and make no sense. It’s slowing me down in a good way, but I need to power through this for real. I guess I’m worried the most about the next steps and what they are and if there is enough there to constitute a novel. I’m going to legitimately need to cut 30K which is like another 70 pages of text. On the other hand, I already added 10K to the first twelve chapters, which argues I can make up for the lost text by writing better stuff.

That means I’ll need to grind to make the deadline. I need to get back to the 500 words an hour schedule at minimum. At that rate alone it will take me at least 100 hours to get to where the novel needs to be. Realistically I’ll be looking at more like 140 hours at 500/hour, and that means a minimum of 5 hours a day to get it done mid June. In other words, I gotta get faster now. 500 words an hour is a nice pace if you can afford it. I cannot if I am going to make my deadlines. I need to be putting out 3K every day from here on out to get to where I want to be when I want to be there.

So, it is grind time.

(This is a continuation of a recent Freewrite Friday)

He missed Grace more than Sam. Grace was one of those people you meet, hear their name, and think, that is exactly what you should’ve been named. They used to go out for monthly lunches before she married Sam. He thought of her as big sister as much as Sam–perhaps even more, because Grace actually gave sisterly advice. The problem was Grace didn’t like his wife terribly much. She’d say, “she’s a great girl!” or, “it is so wonderful what she’s been doing with herself.” These were the telltale signs of female dislike. He’d cultivated an understanding of such things over the years of watching one girlfriend after another be skewered by his sisters. All of his brothers understood the language. This made it especially odd when he’d decided to marry Elizabeth anyway.

Elizabeth Stapley-Moss was the most engaging woman Adrian had ever met. From that first date on through the year and a half of courtship he’d been excited about every moment they spent together. He knew these things didn’t last. People get older. The new wears off. He had to wonder when the new wore off him. How long was it until she was looking at him the way people look at a car after its first dent.

The car was another one. His father was a car enthusiast. He did everything in his power to make sure his kids followed the same way of thinking. For High School graduation he bought each kid a partially constructed classic car. The kind of car never came as a surprise. Dad felt like cars were people’s real spirit animals. Every question, every conversation, every choice he and his siblings made growing up led them down a path towards the unfinished heap of metal that would be sitting in the driveway graduation night. His was an AMG Hammer circa 1987–the best of the three model years, according to his dad. It needed a lot of work. German engineering might be the gold standard but finding parts in Iowa was like finding a herd of Unicorns. They worked together for months to get the base set and new tires to match the classic silver rims. All in all it took him and his dad three years to finish the car. Adrian couldn’t remember the last time he drove it.

Adrian couldn’t remember the last time she’d let it sit in the driveway.

I am struggling with getting started in the mornings. I just don’t want to. I love the story I am working on. I love writing. I just don’t want to start. So, I sat here and decided to write this blog as a way to get me going. It worked yesterday. I heated up with that short (I will get back to that story for sure). It had my mind moving and ready to write. My mind is already moving on this story this morning, because my subconscious was working on it all night. I recognize where some of the holes are, though not what it will take to fix them. That could be the problem, but those problems are chapters away.

It could be that my kid is playing in his spring football game right now and I have no way to watch or listen. I have little patience for these things and want the answers as soon as possible. Real time or before, please. Not getting that is bugging me. Not being able to know how he’s doing or if he’s even okay is bugging me. It is a big one for him–he’s trying to establish himself as a leader and a starter as an 18 year old kid who is far far far away from peaking athletically.

Those are the mental issues I am dealing with. Physically, I am dealing with hand and knuckle pain which is likely arthritic. No real idea how to overcome the pain. I am living in the land of acceptance at present.

Some Thoughts:

1. I ran out of things to say. I think I ought to go exercise or something to clear my brain space.

When Adrian considered the number of things he didn’t do anymore because of his wife he didn’t like the answer. Drinking beers was the first one. He was good with that one. He didn’t like who he was when he drank. She did, at first. She met him at a bar in downtown Ames, Iowa. She was working as a waitress floating between tables prompting people to buy more drinks. He sat at a booth in the middle section of the bar with four of his closest friends and bought drinks all night. Then he came back the next night and the night after that. They fell into a rhythm, first with casual conversation, then with a game: each beer bought him a question. She answered every one. The second week of this he asked her if she would go out with him. She said yes. He was two years into the marriage when he drank his last beer. He’d put on a gut, mostly because he didn’t go to the gym with his guys anymore. That was the second thing he didn’t do because of his wife.

“I don’t like it when you leave at night. What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?” She said.

He was gone most days working. She switched to day shifts at the bar for a while before the work tapered off. He didn’t know what she did between the hours of nine am and 5 pm. She said she volunteered at a local school. They didn’t have any kids. She wanted kids. Three to be precise. He’d be fine with two if they could afford that. His dad once said that you shouldn’t have more kids than parents. Once they outnumber you, there isn’t much left for you to do but submit to their reign. Adrian had three older brothers and four older sisters. The youngest of the girls still lived at home. She was twenty three.

He didn’t talk to them much–another thing he wife suggested. It wasn’t like they all hung out beforehand. When he finally got married he thought it would put him back in the conversation with his brothers. They all were married; all had kids. Sam and Lisa also were married, but Sam didn’t have any kids. She and her partner Grace wanted to adopt, but people in Iowa were fickle. The thought of an openly lesbian couple raising a child bothered too many of the right people in the wrong ways.

Some Thoughts:

1. Warming up to take on a few novel chapters. Gottta heat up the oven before you cook.
2. I like where this was headed. To be continued?

I get the asterisk now. It all is adding up in a very sensible way. It also is a throwback to some of the divisions in the comic books. Nicely done, Marvel… no spoilers though. Instead I am going to answer the age old question: Should I watch this movie?

Yes.

This is a good film almost from start to finish. It is a Marvel movie, so expect a fair deal of hokie hijinx and prepare to be beat over the head with the message like a bad dog and a rolled up newspaper. They do a fair bit of that anymore. They also create a really nice setup for the next Spiderman movie, though the truth of where they go with that remains to be seen.

What makes it good? Acting, casting, and storytelling. There are a handful of solid actors holding this thing together and they pull it off. As far as a surprise, pay close attention to the City of New York in this film. The vibe of the place has really gotten to the point of “oh, another hero? whatever.” They do a good job of showing the how unimpressed New Yorkers can be and that felt real. Of course, New Yorkers can be impressed too, and those moments do unfold.

Generally speaking, this is worth the ticket. I don’t know that there are too many worthwhile blockbusters headed our way this summer (Mission Impossible maybe), but this is a fun way to kick off the summer movie season, and an A-effort for a studio that has not made a solid film in a long long time. Welcome back Marvel? We’ll see how the next one pans out.

The Lady Talis and I are both having horrible nightmares. Add to this the fact that our room feels stuffier than it has all year, and I am beginning to sense a pattern. The space is impacting my sleep and hers. This has been going on for some time. I rarely sleep an entire night. For a while I thought I was suffering from early onset Parkinson’s disease when the lack of sleep was coupled with muscle spasms. The cause, however, may be more rooted in our space than in anything else. We are dealing with a space that has pressure issues, and we are dealing with a space that has heat issues. That combination is causing me problems that are only exacerbated by how I sleep and how the different types of pillows and heights we individually choose to sleep at.

The dreams are of the most awful anxiety type. Any real world fears that sink into our minds are pushed beyond reality and mixed in with the stray thoughts and concerns of the day. It generally starts off well and gets dark quickly. Mine tend to drift into fears about bugs and other nasty little surprises that await in the darkness. The really bad ones always focus on realities crashing into one another and dealing with alternative versions of people I love. They get worse and longer throughout the night until the only escape is waking up in the darkness and trying to find something to occupy my mind until day breaks.

I did the most basic of research about the problem and learned that poor air circulation will lead to an increase CO? buildup, which affects brain oxygenation and triggers frequent awakenings. It can also cause headaches and anxiety as well as headaches and brain fog, which is what often triggers such negative states. So, knowing the problem can help me begin to fix it. However, fixing it is going to take a bit of doing. We don’t have a ton of options for a solid fix. Part of what will work is finding ways to improve or increase airflow. Perhaps a second fan or something along those lines that can move air and even cool the air will be helpful. The pressure issue is going to take a bit more doing. That is probably the biggest problem to be fixed.

At least its a project. I do love a project.

The semester is about over. The teaching part of it is very much about over and I am at the stage where my body and mind are failing successively I walked for two miles today and felt fatigue one in. Don’t even get me started on the thinking. I’m not quite at that stage in my life anymore where I end a semester feeling full and refreshed. I leave off feeling a need for escape and usually escape to parts unknown and to be known and to get to know. The escape drives me. I fall into this constant cycle of hope that I can teach enough summer courses to fund my version of crazy. I’m getting closer.

Ultimately, the thing I want is to be done and to be focusing on the novel. I need to lock in and get it finished. The revision process is long and has required a massive rewrite, so I need to put in the hours. I was on such a great page with that and now I feel entirely lost thanks to all of the other stuff taking up residence in my head and life.

Overall, I am just tired.

There is more than enough going on right now. Saturday is the spring game for Northern Colorado, marking the kid’s first opportunity to show out on this new team. I am looking forward to seeing how he does and how prepared he is for the summer and the tough season ahead.

I have time today.

I’m rolling into my last week of classes and thinking about how much I will enjoy not having this part of our schedule be a part of our schedule. For as much as I love my job and creating classes, I have not done a very good job of preserving or creating community in this space. I haven’t done that because of a number of reasons, but prime among them is the need to preserve and create space for the writing. That is going to remain my focus. This novel needs to get revised faster than it is getting done right now, and as I am closer to the point where I will need to conjure entire chapters from scratch (because of the 44, 16 will still work). I also am at a point in my life where I need to develop goals and plans (I have goals…) that I can achieve year to year without relying on the tenuous strands of professional relationships (like Shadowrun) that may have been ruined by recent bad writing.

In short, I gotta get my shit together.

What is holding me back? Me. Seriously. I have so much that I am trying to juggle that I am not doing anything particularly well. So, this off season is dedicated to locking in a solid life schedule and moving and pushing my life with my partner forward to that next level.

That next level always feels right around the corner. It always feels held back by our situation (two or three kids always living at home, jobs that don’t always have corresponding hours, too much drek on my plate). There has to be a moment when I stop working around the obstacles and shape the obstacles to work around us and what we have going on. A lot of why that doesn’t happen is parental guilt and feeling like putting them ahead of me is the way I ought to be doing things in life. However, even as I do that I know it isn’t right. The youngest is about to be 16. It’s our time now.

In short, I gotta set better boundaries so I can get my shit together.

Kevan realized it was tough to get into Bronx Science. 30,000 New York students driven to the breaking point by Tiger mom’s and desperate dads all fighting for 750 seats in the freshman class. When he got in he had a moment to breathe a sigh of relief. Then he realized getting in was the easy part. You were part of something now–a legacy that demanded that you add to it in a meaningful way. That was how he found himself in a closet tucked off from the gym with three other kids and a bulky robot that looked like a beetle.

“It has to work.” Siddiq said, but even as a freshman he was the assistant editor of Vox Discipulorum, the school’s World Language Magazine. He had the inside track to Editor in Chief. It didn’t have to work for him to get noticed.

Michela said as much. She was a classic ranter. She had a knack for finding everything wrong, and very little right. Still, it was a talent that was extremely useful in debugging processes, which is what they were in the middle of right now.

“It’s going to work.” Kevan said.

The fourth person in their quartet hardly ever talked. Faraji was quiet and pensive. He’d been the one to come up with the beetle design. He’d been the lead programmer while Kevan’s expertise with electronics and advanced plastics lent itself more towards construction. Faraji was typing on his laptop. A thin pale wire ran from the device into the back of the robot. As Faraji typed, the robot whirred and clicked, running through diagnostic checks. It was a six legged model. Each leg articulated separately on gyros that Kevan designed. The problem was keeping them in sequence so that it moved smoothly and not in a sideways gait like it had this morning during testing.

Michela discovered it first. She said, “Prospero is limping.”

It wasn’t a construction issue–Kean had made sure of that. It was something in the code that made the robot move that way.

“I got it.” Faraji said.

The others took a collective breath without realizing. Outside in the crowded gym beyond other teams were gathered with their science projects hoping to make their first mark on the school. Siddiq slowly turned the knob, opening the door to let the noise and commotion of the outside in.

He said, “Okay. Let’s show them what we can do.”

I don’t know why we still have to be talking about this. To quote the NFL Network, “Despite taking some hellacious hits, he hangs in the pocket and doesn’t drop his eyes to see the rush. His toughness is unquestionable. Overall, Sanders doesn’t have elite size, arm strength or athleticism, but he can find success in an offense based on timing and ball placement.” Yet the second highest ranked QB on the board is still on the board, and nobody looks interested in taking him. Is he actually a bad quarterback? He was the 2024 Johnny Unitas Golden Arm Award winner. He’s 23 years old. He’s played 4 years of college football. So, no. He’s not a bad QB.

He’s a Sanders.

That means there is an arrogance and an attitude that teams were not willing to deal with–both from him and his father. They didn’t think he could lead. They didn’t want him to be the face of their franchise. So, they didn’t pick him. Then they added insult to injury by picking straight scrubs ahead of him. The kid can play, and teams don’t want him. Why? There are some factors involved that are easy to reach for. I listed attitude, but race has to be discussed as well. That same attitude we are acting like is a bad thing is what made Baker Mayfield and Johnny Manziel such highly regarded prospects. A former NFL player turned analyst, Emanuel Acho had a an answer that made sense to me, “Number one, he didn’t code switch. What do I mean, ‘he didn’t code switch,’ Shedeur Sanders did not change his identity or how he comes off for the sake of the decision makers and who are the decision makers in the National Football League primarily non-minorities, primarily white people, he did not code switch, he stayed true to Shedeur.”

“The problem is he didn’t make himself more palatable to decision makers, he didn’t do it, and in job interviews, whether it’s the National Football League or any job interview, oftentimes it behooves you to make yourself more palatable to decision makers. Shedeur Sanders did not do that.” 

I don’t know that he will get drafted. Finding out if he does is suddenly must see TV.