I was thinking a bit tonight while doing some writing. Back to the catalyst of The Primal Age Chronicles.
I was thinking of that week that I had to make the decision of if I was going to pursue fiction or screenwriting for the remainder of my masters. My heart was set on screenwriting(still plan to find my way back before I die) but my head told me to follow fiction. Issue was I hadn’t written any fiction in years. Thank you to two of my Mobies, Dana and Trilby for keeping me off the ledge that Rez.
I had originally mapped Foamers out as a tv show so I adopted those outlines and figured I’d be able to swing it. I am presently sitting here at 31.
I started the first novel nine years ago. I started the tv show eleven years ago. But when I made the tv show I drew characters from all my past projects to create the ensemble that exists today.
I was 21 when Kade and Dame were born, 20 for X, Ashton, and Mick, 19 for Tiny, and 17 for Victoria.
It’s weird to think how long they been fixtures in my life, and how they have changed as I have changed. It some times baffles me the worlds and people who only exist within the confines of my skull.
Writing, man. Nothing like it.
Yeah bet you thought you were done with these! Not so fast.
The thing about writing post-apocalyptic stories is you look to find how far you can push a character and have them still hold onto their humanity. In my series there are two ways it can go…a character can go primal, losing their humanity, or they can become primed finding their end of the world self.
In my younger years I thought this was something that only existed in works of fiction. The older I’ve become the more I see it was a real world trait. The decisions people are faced with every day can change the course of their life.
So this tip is know your line before you get to it.
Anything that is given can be taken away, anything earned will stay.
Short one today…boys if you’re stalking me today this one is for you.
You aren’t defined by how hard you can fight at 100%, you’re defined by how hard you can fight when you’ve got nothing left to fight with.
Going dry…I’m about 2/3rds through the rough draft and also let go a little physically this summer. So to spur myself into motivation on both fronts I am going dry until I finish the draft. If you catch me drinking at an event that is not a wedding or funeral I will give you 5$.
The only question remains is will I write faster or lose weight longer…
When I’m working on a TPAC novel I do all the story lines in separate documents. It helps me track where each arc is and also keeps my word counts low so I don’t think too highly of my progress.
To make sure I was on progress today I did a quick tally.
Slightly over halfway. Means at my current rate I am a month and a half away from completing this draft and can be on track to be edited out by January.
Damn that feels good.
Another screenplay. This is where the zombies started. The ground work for Foamers. This screenplay got such a reaction from those that read it that I decided to go back to school to chase writing as more than a hobby. I am proud in the tears a zombie screenplay had drawn. Can you read it dry eyed?
This was a hard copy scan and a few pages are missing, not to mention this isn’t the final version so plenty of notes and typos.
As per usual, this is mine, belongs to me, don’t steal cause I’ll gladly sell cheap, and no one likes a head ache.
Strays was a heart breaker for me. Everything that could go sideways in the release. Sales have been low. Reviews have been slow. I dislike even looking at the book.
There have been few times in my life I really felt awesome as a writer. It’s mostly self-loathe and whiskey. Decent bit of whiskey. Lotta bit of self loathe. I wrote the second book in a booth at what was the Middlesex diner. They kept my coffee full and my stomach fed. When the release date finally came, the diner was happy to host my release party.
That night people came from far and wide to support me. Many bottles of booze were drank. I read a pseudo sex scene in front of my mom and all of her friends. Luckily my sister, Brother-in-law and nieces had left by then. Three friends I had best manned for were there. A college friend I hadn’t seen in years drove six hours for it. Old room mates. Bosses. Coaches.
Writing is lonely.
That day I was not.
Strays may have disappointed, but the people I have in my life have not.
Adventures of Dud is overish. If anyone has a strong desire for me to complete the fifth let me know.
This pretty PDF is the World Series of Beer Pong. College love story revolving around the world’s greatest sport of beer pong. Prior to opening it, disclaimers, there are themes of sex, drinking, and love. It has been a while since I wrote this and if would guess we are looking at a strong PG13. And also, no idea where it was in the level of editing.
As per usual, all work is mine and belongs to me. Steal it and I will find you, especially since I will sell out cheap, so lets all save of us some headaches.