Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Life As(s) Usual

Just a quick note to let you all in on what's been going on the past few days and weeks since I returned from Boot Camp.

Already, it is easy to get the feeling that Boot Camp never happened. "What do you MEAN I met Orson Scott Card? What do you mean I did that camp thing I wanted to do and it's over now?" But the knowledge is still here. Parts of it have really stuck. My attitude on writing is different. My attitude on STORY is different. And I don't think that's going to revert just because I'm home and comfortable.

Well, almost comfortable.

It seems due to budget cuts and logistical junk that my hours at work have been vaporized. And I loved my job. Getting paid to walk around in the dark and think and listen to audio books? I even had time to write between patrols. Best job ever in some ways. But alas, all good things must come to an end. So here I beez. Looks like I can add job hunting to my To-Do List.

I've sketched out a schedule for Poof, my YA novel that's in the works. The schedule basically has me writing the novel in three months. Yikes. But that's 1000 words a day with weekends off. Should be easy breezy if I do my work in the outlining stage. I've slotted two months for that. And a month or two for downtime and test readings and final edits and pre-querying and such, once the novel itself is finished. It's a fairly loose schedule, one that I know I am capable of. But it also ends up with me and a completed book by April.

I've learned a lot since my last "novel attempt." One of the things I've learned is, writing a book is something that can be done quickly. I wrote a 12,000 word story is just a few hours at work over the course of about 2 weeks. That's over a sixth of this novel's length. DOABLE. If I bust me arse and focus. Also, I know now that a novel is not a once-in-a-lifetime achievement into which you have to squeeze every last observation you have ever had about the human experience. Tried to do that with Silas Crane. "Sweet! That's going in my book!" is a phrase that can quickly over-burden and kill your story. Trust me.

Beyond the novel stuff, I've got a story to write for a Codex halloween contest. And I need to shoot some stories out into the world for publication. I've only got one or two out there right now. For shame.

Anyway, I'll keep checking in as things develop.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Working Out the Kinks

I just read through my previous posts. Wow. Was I really that big an arrogant prick only a few days ago? I guess I was. Apologies to anyone who has had to swallow my crap about being "as good" (whatever that means) as the other writers. So much talk about people wanting to prove themselves, and I was the chiefest of sinners all along. Oh, well. At least I've realized how silly some of my perceptions were at the time. The GOOD part about those posts is that they preserve the enthusiasm I felt that week. I'm glad to be able to revisit that when I'm feeling burnt out and uncreative.

I've been having a lot of negative feelings about writing since I got back. I wish I could be the kind of person who just lets the past be and moves forward, but unfortunately, I always have to rehash old events to discover what meaning they might have in the present. Once each event is named, I can shelve it and move forward. But not before. So here we go:

Before boot camp, my writing schedule was very loose. I wrote stories as they came to me. I had the vague hope of publication in some hypothetical magazine somewhere, sometime, and a distant idea that "one day" I would attempt an impossible, distant, unattainable Novel. I didn't write for a particular audience, and I usually didn't have the story hammered out in advance.

In short, boot camp SQUASHED my old way of doing things. There is no place for the kind of aimless wandering I was doing in the life of a writer who hopes to make writing their career. (It's late, am I making sense?) And now, I have seen my own mistakes picked apart. I've seen other people's mistakes picked apart. Over and over, the problem was not language. It wasn't nifty ideas. It was STORY INVENTION. I never realized how unwilling I was to spend the time to thoroughly hash out a story and it's implications. Orson Scott Card said something in passing that I really latched onto. He referred to writing as "creating an intellectual property."

WOAH. I had NEVER thought of it that way. I had always had this vague idea that you just wrote, and if you were lucky, you sold the words you wrote. The idea that in writing you are building something almost tangible in its detail hadn't crossed my mind. Sure, I paid lip-service to the idea that writing was a "craft" just like carpentry or masonry, but I didn't have a clear idea of what that actually meant. The sad truth is, if I had put the time and practical, accessible story detail into my stories that I put into my stupid Dnd campaigns, I would have been published already. WHAT. A. WASTE.

So if I sound like a whiny, little brat who can't make up his mind about how to view this whole writing business, just chock it up to growing pains. Once I've written some stuff and had the chance to try my hand applying all this new knowledge and perspective, I'll mellow out. For now, I'm trying my hand at invention. I'm putting forth an honest effort to "craft" a story that I won't have to use the language equivalent of the "blur tool" on just to make it look good. I'm trying to be the biggest, most cynical bastard you can imagine, while still enjoying the "making stuff up" part like I did when I was a kid.

Oh, and I made a new rule for myself. "No more books on writing until I've finished a novel-length work." This is a big step. It's easy to be afraid that you don't know enough, and start reading "writin' books" as a procrastination aid. You get a lot of good advice and precisely ZERO writing done. If I want instruction, I'll read good fiction for pleasure. You learn more instinctively from a good book than you do from a half-dozen writing books. So enough. Here's another good one: "Stop nit-picking the language. Period." Also good advice. Just write, neither needlessly verbose nor needlessly sparce. Just write. If you have a good story, it will turn out alright.

Holy crap, I think that's actually true. Back to work, then.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Back Home Again

Now that I'm home it's harder to make myself do things again. It's like this place is made of molasses, and I have to really work hard and chug against the stickiness of being comfortable. The last few days have been relaxing, though, and I feel ready to tackle the challenges of my YA novel.

Looking back on boot camp, these are the things that have stuck with me:

Sadly, I have a deep sense of regret at having not performed as well as I know I can. The story I turned in was not very good. It had potential, yes, and it was memorable, but otherwise it was kind of a pile. When Mr. Card told us to write fast and not to dwell too much on quality, I took that as license to relax and just let it flow. You should never just "let it flow." You end up with a poorly thought-out story. But, it's true, I did learn a lot more from my bad story than I would have from a good one. BUT, future boot campers take note: YOU WILL be judged by the quality of the story you turn in, whether it is a fair indicator of your writing prowess or not. Everyone will categorize you by what they see in your work. So work hard, and when you're out of steam, keep working hard. I wish I would have.

That small disappointment aside, I learned SO much about what makes a story great. I thought I had a decent grasp on storytelling and writing, and vaguely thought that anything I could improve on was just detail and would come with experience. I was WRONG. I learned things (about POV, invention, and exposition--specifically how much information to tell) that I might never have learned otherwise. Boot camp has jumped my understanding forward by years. Now, it is just a matter of applying what I learned. That will take practice, but practice will be more productive now that I have a clear goal in mind.

And then there's the people. I liked every last one of the boot campers, and enjoyed their eccentricities and perspectives. I look forward to seeing what they do with what they learned. Except Jessica, who is a huge cheater--how dare she know what she's doing. ;)

I'll be checking in later this week to update ya'll on the progress of inventing and outlining the book. Peace.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Day Six: Uncle Orson's Literary Boot Camp (Farewell)

I really need to get to sleep. I'll write a longer blog post about the final day tomorrow. Topics will be as follows:

How much I hate Jessica for selling her overnight story outright. How tired I was of reading and critiquing. How many of us are going to go home and write novels based on what Mr. Card told us.

Coming soon.

Here are some pictures of the camp on my facebook. Right HERE. There you go. More tomorrow. Again, sorry for the short post. I've been enjoying talking with my boot camp buddies for the last time in person, maybe ever, instead of writing.

More boot camp thoughts and stories to come.

Friday, August 7, 2009

Day Five: Uncle Orson's Literary Boot Camp (More Critiquing)

Today has been another hard day. It's been critiques all day long. Story after story, reading, letting people talk, reading, letting people talk. It's great in one way, because we've all reached the point where certain subjects and observations (some that hadn't even occurred to me before this week) have become so elementary that they are groan-worthy if mentioned. Even Mr. Card has gotten a little impatient with revisiting some of the same things over and over. The group developed a few bad habits and patterns yesterday, and today, Scott kinda set us straight. He was doing something that had to be done, and he wasn't a jerk, but he was firm. "Don't talk if you have nothing to add" was basically the point of it. But it was kind of one of those "Teacher is on edge, so be good" kind of moments.

We're all tired. Today, it seemed like feelings got hurt a little easier. Some of the insecurity was back. The defensiveness, the preoccupation with praise, etc. I felt it too. The desire to explain, to defend my story or my ability, was really strong and I had to fight to keep things in perspective. All in all, today was less nourishing "spiritually," but the value was still there. It was more about pushing through, doing the work. Endurance, perception, discipline. Equally useful, but not as "fun." But even in the less friendly, happy, yay-boot-camp attitude, Scott's critique's and suggestions were right on.

The encouraging part today was just how much better at seeing problems I am. Point of view, invention, exposition: HUGE. And I wasn't nearly so good at recognizing this stuff before. And I'm a lot more focused on my career as a writer. The urgency is almost unbearable (if it weren't for the fatigue, I'd be writing every chance I got, on breaks, lunch, etc). I look at my perspective before, and I was just throwing my time away to whoever would take it. "Collaborate with me, please, just acknowledge that I'm a writer. PLEASE." I should have been writing. Rusty, Tim, Couch, David, and db readers: this does not mean I'm abandoning all my projects, but it does mean writing career-advancing material is first. FIRST. After Lynna and Lex, there is the writing. It's how it has to be. I haven't been acting like this is what I really want to do, and I haven't been acting like I believe I can do it.


Like I said, today I've kinda felt like a grape in a press. I feel really serious and tense, but it's useful. I just don't have any fun stories for you, really. Except, let's do this:

Here is the beginning to a story I started up here and abandoned for reasons of difficulty and length. If you really need more to read after this blog, check it out HERE.

It's worth pointing out that I wrote this BEFORE all the learning, so it won't be much (if any) better than my previous stuff. Beyond that, I'm sorry I can't be bubbly. I'm running out of steam. It's exhausting to be confronted with mistakes over and over and over and to just WANT them to be right (in others' work and in my own). I know how editors feel now and how Orson Scott Card must feel. And it isn't a good feeling. But that, the fact that I'm at that point, that it hurts...that's good. :)

Gotta go. Gotta read five stories before I can sleep.

Day Four: Uncle Orson's Literary Boot Camp (Critiques)

This day has been awesome, but I'll say that right now, at 3:17 a.m. as I begin this post, I am at a low. I'm exhausted and I miss my family terribly.

This morning I almost slept through class. It started at 10:30 and I woke up at 10:20. Cutting things a little close, but that's okay. I was the very first story we critiqued, and they ripped me a new one. I'll talk more about that later when I'm not so dead. Let's just say, I take criticism of my work well, but it was hard to sit there silently and just let people dissect you. At the end of my critique, when everyone else had gone around, Orson Scott Card took my clumsy story and showed me how it could be a beautifully fun young adult novel. I think I will write it.

Oh, and Orson Scott Card told me to "turn in my penis." It's a long story, one I'll catch you up on later as well.

Mr. Card and his wife took us all out to an awesome little Italian place in town. I sat right across from him at a table with only four people, and we discussed everything from his fiction to religion to politics. I actually got to the point where I was completely at ease. It's amazing. I feel like we know each other to a certain extent. It was fun to realize that. He really is just a guy, but he remains one of the most creative and talented men I've ever met. His comments on our stories CONSTANTLY blow me away. There's a reason he's teaching this class.

Oh, and his license plate says, "ENDER." I discovered that too. Made me smile.

So, apparently a bunch of the other boot campers were trying to figure out who wrote "Early Birds" because it was their favorite. That makes me happy. I wish my actual workshop story had been that well written and received. But today kind of beat the grabby-ness for attention out of everybody. We're too tired to pose. I'm too tired to do anything. Heh. I have to read about eight 5000-8000 word stories tomorrow during lunch breaks. Never going to happen. My reading speed is CRIPPLING me. This is the low point: reading all these stories and realizing that I'm just getting through them slower than other people. It's a limitation I need to fix or learn to live with, but right now I'm not sure how I will get through tomorrow. It's pretty discouraging, but the WRITING aspect is really good. And the LEARNING is going great. I'm just learning my weaknesses, and it stings.

Anyway, I'm not sure if anything above was coherent, but I'm off to bed.


Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Day Three: Uncle Orson's Literary Boot Camp (Writin' Day)

This is gonna be short, people. I'm fading fast.

Today, I started work on my story, got 3,000 words in (about twelve pages) before I decided that I didn't like it. I pulled the ripcord and started over with a totally different idea. I wrote another 2,700 words, which became the completed story we will be critiquing tomorrow. (All of us have stories. Mine is one of seventeen.) The first 3,000 words took me roughly seven hours, while the last 2,700 took me just over two. Improvement? Yes. Oh, yeah. And the story is better too. Not blast-you-across-the-room good, but good. I'm glad I had the guts to make the decision I made. WAY better stuff. But you guys can read my crap at some point too. It's not unamusing.

The big thing is, though, I wrote almost 6,000 words today. At 250 words a page, that's 24 pages. And that's a lot for fiction. If I remember right, Stephen King aims for 5,000 words in a day. Of course, those are his NORMAL wednesdays. But it was a lot for me. It stretched me. I'm better for it. I'm also typing with my eyes closed right now. I'm probably going to open them and find that my hands have been in the wrong place the whole time. Nope. Sweet.

Aside from the writing, there's little to report. (Mr. Card was not around today.) I keep meeting cool people. Artists who work on movies, doing everything from matte paintings to concept art. Account managers who aren't boring. Massage therapists whose talents I wasn't lucky enough to enjoy. A guy who SERIOUSLY looks exactly like a young Bruce Campbell. Oh, and Ken showed me some awesome parkour videos. Again, I peed. He's probably going to post db on a big parkour forum. Oh and Ed, the editor for IGMS, asked to see "She Who Lies in Secret." He warned me it's not a guarantee or anything, but it's worth a shot. So I'll be sending that off when I get home.

Beyond that, I've got nothing. Still having a great time. Still learning. Everybody has mellowed out. We aren't so concerned with proving to each other that we're the real thing anymore. We've accepted ourselves and each other a little more completely. And it's good. The level of "please think I'm cool" displayed on the first day would have killed me if I'd had to experience a week of it. Oh, and Ken showed me that my wrist pain probably has a lot to do with neck and back issues. So I'll be seeing a chiropractor as soon as I can. A good one, if I can manage it. The paragraphs in this post no longer have unified themes. No need to indent to say good-bye, I suppose. Good-bye.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Day Two: Uncle Orson's Writing Class (Radness Abundant)

I neglected to mention that yesterday, I ended up in a river. Our assignment was to go out, explore, see the world, and glean some story ideas from the experience. I told my partner, "You know. I'm going to go jump in there." So I did. Did I gain anything? Meh. A little story idea. Not the one I'm going to use. Still, I got soaking wet in all my clothes (an old classic revisited) and I thought that was worth mentioning.

We were also assigned to interview someone and make a story out of something that came up in conversation. I was walking around downtown Lexington, scanning for potential victims when I saw it: a cozy, little shop that sold Celtic stuff. I practically ran through the door (the sign said they were about to close). The result was a half-hour conversation with an Irish woman, her Welsh Corgi, and her Scottish husband. She commented on my name and treated me like one of her own kind. It was awesome. And I'm writing my story based on this. (VERY loosely based on this. I promise you won't recognize it.)

The night went on. Junk happened. I worked until 3:00 a.m.

Now we actually come to today: I skipped breakfast. Not worth it, I was too tired. I went straight to class in a t-shirt and flip-flops. Pretty soon, we were discussing the story cards we had written the night before. My group was really jazzed about mine. People treated me differently after hearing my idea. Handshakes and high fives and stunned silences abounded. Granted, these are supportive people, but even translating it to a normal, sane response-level, I could tell my story wasn't poop. Which was good.

But now I will tell you something completely subjective and arrogant and totally unprovable: I don't think there is anyone here who is a flat-out better writer than I am (with the obvious exception). There are some really good writers, but I never feel outgunned. I never feel talked down to or ignored. I feel, in some ways for the first time, like I am exactly where I am supposed to be, at exactly the right time. Or maybe I'm just having so much fun, it's easy to be positive and confident. But please, don't get the impression that I am saying there isn't a huge bucket-load of talent here. There is. I just feel like I belong...uh...inside the bucket. Too.

Self-congratulation ended. Moving on.

I met a really cool Taiwanese guy named Kenneth Kao. I guess it would be more accurate to say his PARENTS are Taiwanese; he was born in the states. Kenneth has family who are mafia on one side and missionaries on the other. He is younger than me, but he's already a chiropractor with his own practice. Also (drawn bad readers will know why) I COMPLETELY geeked out when I learned he was a co-founder of a parkour gym in Colorado. He has been a consultant for movies on the subject. And he is a practicing pakourererer. Er. He actually does the stuff, I guess is what I'm trying to get across here. I will, and I mean WILL, be calling this guy after the conference to talk about parkour. In the words of Paul, I peed.

I've met so many cool people. One woman built submarines for ten years and is now a consultant, helping the military improve technology for locating enemy subs. Multi-Static, or some such. She had to stop me from asking questions because, no kidding, the answers to my questions were classified. What the crap?! Another guy, Brock, is an airline pilot and a Mormon (I've run into several--they look like the rest of us). He was in my reading card group (so was Kenneth) and we've had a great time talking and cracking jokes. Brock is always the first one to laugh at anything. His sense of humor doesn't have a warm-up period. Blam, there it is, every time.

After supper tonight, Orson Scott Card did a (I kid you not) FIVE hour Q&A session. I asked as many questions as I could with becoming "that guy." I asked him about "Shadows in Flight" which, sadly, he hasn't started yet. We also got to talk about Gloriously Bright from Xenocide. I've ALWAYS wanted to discuss that story and talk about his religion. And we did. It was incredibly cool. Things I had wondered for years, I just asked the man. And I have possibly delayed future Orson Scott Card titles by recommending Civilization: Revolution to him. He has been playing Civilization 2, and swears he won't play the new one because it will destroy him, but we'll see. By the end of the Q&A, there were only like ten people left and we were all so tired that Scott got very personal and real with all of us, about what life is like being famous(ish), about his family, about writers' depressive personalities, about every little freaking detail of his books (any that we asked about; he won't talk about his fiction otherwise) from what the Formics look like to what a mess it is trying to get a book adapted in Hollywood. It was something I will absolutely, never, ever forget.

By the end of the day tomorrow, my story has to be finished. My next blog entry will likely be VERY short, because I will be a dead man. But I'm going to try to approach this story very casually, to just tell it and get it down (much the way I wrote "She Who Lies in Secret"). It probably will not be my best story, but I like it pretty well and it will be indicative enough of my bad habits to be worth critiquing. And that's what its for. Any of you expecting me to come home with a masterpiece will have to settle for just a story. But I'll try to make it fun to read.

Oh, and one last thing: I got a TON of stuff signed by him. It was geeky, but he didn't act weird about it. I actually have the first copy he ever signed of "Recruiting Valentine." He even wrote "1st ever signed" on it. Pardon me, but that is total radness. And David, your book has been signed. Come get it sometime.

That's all folks. I'll see you all later at the end of my life. I mean, tomorrow.

Day One: Uncle Orson's Writing Class (Brainsplosion)

Today I met Orson Scott Card, and it's crazy, he's just a guy. That's the first impression anyway. You don't have to listen to him for very long before you realize that you are in the presence of one of the greatest minds you will ever encounter. As for what he's like, "Scott" is very funny and warm. He is amusingly self-deprecating. He is patient and lets people talk, but he owns the room. He never has to tell you to be quiet. When he needs you to be, somehow you just are. And he can be totally brutal. He doesn't tip-toe around the mistakes you make. He stomps them like cockroaches. And that's good. It makes his compliments mean something.

Speaking of which (you guys will love this):

Scott said that there were so many good entries this year, he could have held two boot camps. The competition was really stiff. The fact that I made it means more than I thought. Also, after listening to him systematically DESTROY both first-person and present-tense during our length discussion of viewpoint, I couldn't help but laugh. My entry had been BOTH. And it was about ZOMBIES! When we read through the boot camp entries in class, Scott's first comment was "Did you notice there was some first-person, present-tense in there? But what did you think? Not a bad story, eh?" And he looked right at me. (At least I like to think he did. There was only one other first-person, present-tense story, and I liked mine better.)

I asked him later why I was allowed in, even though my entry went against his "rule." He said, "Because I wanted to know what happened. Sometimes first-person present-tense can work, and this worked." It's not like he told me I was the next Bradbury or anything, but he looked me in the eye and treated me like a writer. How did that feel to me personally, deep down in my little writer's marrow? Nothing short of historic.

First day of class = WORTH EVERY PENNY.

We did a thousand ideas session that ended up being about a woman who scuba dives in sewage. We ran out of time before we could nail down all the reasons, but we came up with some crazy stuff as a group. I liked my idea, but it got swallowed up in a billion others and eventually smothered to death.

Anyway, I better wrap this up. I'm still working on my assignment that has to be done by 9 a.m. I have to come up with FIVE complete stories summaries. Not ideas or hooks. Full. Summaries. Stories with a beginning and an ending. It's harder than it sounds, especially if you don't want them to suck. I've got four so far. It's a madhouse in my brain right now: Divorce ceremonies. Killer snowballs. Wild gods who have been too long without masters. A man in a suit and tie standing in a river. My imagination is running some funky tracks, but I think that's good.

But I gotta go. Assignment. Sleep. Get butt kicked some more.

Good times.

(One final thing I am learning: ENDURANCE. I have LONG since passed the point where I would usually think I was too tired and quit. It's nice to know those limitations are false.)

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Day Zero: Arrival

Today, I learned that the area around Tulsa looks like a giant circuit board from the air. The plane was apparently on lone from The Shire, and I had to practically crawl to get in the thing. Thankfully, they sat me next to a kid, so there was no fighting over elbow room. The next flight I wasn't so lucky. The plane was large, but so was the man sitting next to me. I did the only thing I could and made friends with him, appealed to his sense of brotherhood and fatness. Our conversation was enjoyable. It kept my mind off of the uncomfortable seat, and the knowledge that Lynna and Lex were falling farther and farther behind me.

The day started at 5 a.m. Yuck. I went in to tell Lex good-bye and cried when she snuggled up to me. The trip to the airport was surreal. Telling Lynna good-bye was surreal. Before I knew it, the plane had landed in Dallas/Fort Worth and I only had minutes to find my plane. And the airport was HUGE. I tried to remember what I could of the train system in final fantasy IX (it's about the same, actually), and amazingly ended up in the right place in a timely fashion. Good thing too. The plane left early, while my previous flight had been late. Could've been a disaster.

So we're back to the big guy sitting next to me on the 737. We talked about Fight Club and the Dark Tower series. When we landed, I met up with fellow bootcamper Kevin Whaley. Kevin is a soft-spoken dermatologist with a background in chemical engineering. He writes techno-thrillers. I admitted I didn't know what that was. He said, "Crichton." I said, "Oh." And then we shared a cab to Jessica's house.

Jessica is almost mythically small, but she talks and moves as if the rest of the world is in slow motion. She's a career academic. Something about the history of mathematics. Arabic numberals. I asked her if she had ever read XKCD. She said she hadn't and for the second time that day, I wept. (Not really, but it is a real shame.)

Jessica drove Kevin and I to the town of Buena Vista, Virginia where the conference is being held. (Ew, passive voice.) The conversation on the trip was interesting. It revealed to me just how different writers can be from each other. Kevin asked us some very goal-oriented questions, about what each of us plan to do in our careers. He also wondered what common elements all the best-sellers have in common. (My answer was clarity and accessability.) We all swapped stories about our younger years, school, family, you name it. It was good to realize that my fellows (and my competition) are just people. I have to admit, though, to feeling like an outsider here. Everyone is so...polished. I'm like a peasant trying to play noble. But I think my swordplay will match up nicely with theirs, when it comes to that. (Writing, I mean. I'm not actually going to stab anyone. That I know of.)

The campus is beautiful. More than I imagined. The main building oozes history. Paintings, grandfather clocks, chandeliers, ballrooms, large wooden staircases...it's freaking Hogwarts. I finally met Kathleen Bellamy, Orson Scott Card's assistant. She was as friendly and helpful in life as in her emails. Kevin and Jessica and I wandered around a bit. We eventually ran into Anna Jordan from Colorado. Anna is a tall, matter-of-fact character with a touch of Dakota in her voice. She's the heiress to a stockyard business and has just one main story she wants to tell, a series of fantasy novels that actually sound pretty interesting. Anna randomly go into the van with us while we drove around downtown Buena Vista and Lexington.

Now I'm about to go to bed. It's only nine, but I'm freaking beat. And I've got to be up by 7:30 for breakfast. All in all, this has already been a huge learning experience, and a positive one. I'll say this though: there is a preoccupation with wealth and fame that I don't buy into, but all in all, things are going good. I know I should end this post with a bang, but I'm tired. So I'm going to bed.


Saturday, August 1, 2009

Five Hours and Counting

I have to be up in five hours. My bags are packed. I didn't take much. A blanket Mom made me. Some comic books. Ben Folds in the mp3 player. Should be a good flight. There is so much in my brain right now. I wish I had time to spill it all. Instead, I'll keep it in my head and use it for fuel.

See you tomorrow night, same time, same place.