27,013 Words

 27,013 words! My book is now longer than The Old Man and the Sea by 13 words.

Covid-19

I'm incorporating Covid-19 into the book I'm writing, and it's really fun to sort of capture how it's impacting us at this stage.

75 Pages

 75 pages. Halfway there.

Excerpt - the Colonel

 Any woke person willing to read a paragraph I wrote and tell me if it's a form of racism or homophobia or just ignorant in some way I'm missing? I can't see a problem with it, but I've got a bad feeling about it ... Just because I don't want to be racist or homophobic doesn't mean I'm not sometimes by accident.

Alexander radioed Skagit LE Ranger Glenn Tricouni, a dark-haired native Kentuckian so Kentucky, he owns a hound dog, chickens, lots of guns, and probably a banjo. Some of the parkies refer to him and his horse-wrangling, blond husband, with an accent even thicker than Tricouni’s, as the Duke Boys of Skazzard County. He prefers the nickname Skagit 9-1-1 dispatchers gave him because of his deep, authoritative radio drawl: “the Colonel.” Tricouni, on patrol in the park, said he would head back to Marblemount.

Excerpt 2 - Beagle

 Ten pages a day for 5 days = 50 pages. Now, 2 more repetitions. I can do this, even if I am one of the least disciplined, most gumption-challenged people I know! I'm not sure I have a choice, cause this stuff's coming out one way or another. I'm just trying to direct the spray from the fire hose. Here's a small beagle piece:

Machris hears Kyle Adams’s Subaru pull up. There’s a dinging sound, then a car door closes, followed by a second car door closing, and soon she hears Adams opening the back door that leads directly to the back office part of the wilderness information center, where the rangers are settling at the table. Machris hears a scrabbling sound of toenails on tile, and yelps, “Oh no!” as the neighbor’s beagle runs at full speed into the room, makes two giant circles, then follows Adams into his office. Adams sets his day pack down and pats the dog’s head.

“Don’t encourage her,” says Machris, running at the dog, clapping her hands. “Shoo!” The beagle promptly cowers and piddles on the carpet, as usual, at Adams’s feet. “Ugh! Dog!” Machris exclaims, chasing the slinking dog out the back door and slamming it shut.

Something To Say

 It's a very different experience to write when you want to be a writer than it is to write when you feel like you actually have something worth saying.

Lawrence Ferlinghetti

 Oh man. Totally heartbroken, though obviously not as much as Gary Snyder must be today. So sorry for your loss, Mr. Snyder. (Yes, I know he won't see this, but it's the energy or something that counts.)

10 Pages A Day

 10 pages a day (Bukowski?), Never let the well run dry (Hemingway!)

Excerpt 1 - Tent

I am writing a book. If you're reading this, you may be in it in some form. "Outside the tent, it’s that deep black of night under an overcast sky. My cell phone says it’s 5:45 p.m. but it feels like I’ve gone beyond time. Even though it’s stopped snowing, there are no stars visible. There’s no light at all; just that deep, eerie stillness and quiet that makes you wonder if you’ve gone deaf until you hear a bit of snow slide off a branch and land with a wet thud in the snow on the ground. Then you listen a little closer and hear the quiet undertone of snow melting and dripping. I am the only living creature in the universe."