“What’s the significance? I DON’T KNOW.”

So. Small claims court. We meet for the first time. I have before me, I kid you not, almost twenty pieces of evidence. Emails, invoices, signed court orders, bank statements. And they all have Post-Its with labels and numbers that correspond to a handy timeline that dates back to 2011. I’m leaving my crazy eyes at home, but I have put my angry eyes in my butthatch.

Here is my prediction: the GAL will skate in, make a sad lament about how she’s claimed bankruptcy so my lettuces are long gone, and heavens to Bukowski should she be responsible for any of my legal fees?

I am supposed to be writing right now and for the next twenty minutes but I am a weeny bit distracted. I only got through about 400 words before my brain started scrabbling at me. I’ve been averaging about 2k words a day lately, now that this thing’s picked up steam. I’m writing on my lunch hour, the entire thing, and from 5 a.m. to 6:30. And usually while my kid’s at her therapist. I feel I’m somewhat hopeless as an editor, so I’m trying to write tight now. I’ve created a pretty detailed outline of the whole thing.

I should back up a little. Last month I started another story that’s in the same universe of the story I wrote in March and April. I thought it would be shorter, and comedic. And then in the first part of it I killed someone off and had the main character discover it, at which point it revealed itself as a murder mystery and I realized I had enough plot for a book. I am hovering around 40k words and am working on chapter 9, which is really exciting, because in the last three chapters they are going to figure out who dun it and catch the fucker. I feel like I need to pants for about 10k words, at which point characters and plot points will reveal themselves like out of some spirit animal voodoo haze, after which I need to start plotting if I’m going to actually finish.

This is going to sound bonkers, but I will tell you I am trying to have a healthy relationship with writing right now, because now that I’ve killed the fear I felt for so many years it is absolutely consuming me. I lay in bed and think about writing. I think about it in the shower, on my commute, etc. This story I’m writing right now came to me as I was half awake and I actually stood upright and sleepwalked to my dining room and wrote the synopsis. I know I can get single minded about things but so far I don’t see a down side to this one, really. It’s getting me into bed at a reasonable hour and I feel more creative and articulate during the day, and like when I’m at work working I’m, um, working because I am not thinking about an alcoholic mutated donkey who has human hands who starred in two terrible movies called Donkey Surgeon and Donkey Surgeon II. Okay, I do think about Herman Ignacio at my desk sometimes.

ANYWAYZ. Wish me luck today, or wish me to choke on a peach pit. Whatever! This is my update. I’ll be back. Oh, and I’ll be back with a bonus. My lawyer is in real grown up court today with SeaFed doing something ELSE. HA. Way to bury the lede, SJ.

Kiss the brown star,
I, Asshole

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7 Responses to ““What’s the significance? I DON’T KNOW.””

  1. Bugger says:

    I love that you have and make use of your butt hatch. Can’t wait to hear how this all goes – maybe the stars will align and everything will work out wonderfully. I’ve heard that actually happens for some people and it would be cool to say I know someone who has experienced it.

  2. dorrie says:

    GOOD LUCK and stay gold, ponyboy. Just think, it could be worse, you could work for Amy’s Baking Company.

  3. Brigid Keely says:

    Well…. at least you’ve got the writing going on? What an overly exciting life.

  4. A says:

    Go get ‘em, Tiger Butt Hatch Woman Lady. My fingers crossed all day.

  5. shezbot says:

    Fingers, toes, and ladybits all crossed for you today. Go go gadget butt hatch!

  6. Helen says:

    I’m so pleased to hear about your writing, and jealous because I just can’t write fiction. I hope it sells millions and you end up as rich as J K Rowling.

  7. ozma says:

    How’d you kill the fear? You killed the fear! That is delicious. Fear can be killed, huh?

    Yes, it is going to sell and yes, you are going to be rich. And I’ll say I knew you when, sort of. Well, I said “that gal is going places.” That counts.