There are Holes and Then there are Holes

The truth is that I still miss Mrs. W. in ways that are unfair to Sonnyboy. I’m really, really glad he’s a dog and not some poor spouse I ran off and married after my spouse of 14 years died. Because there are some times when I’m like “God damn it, Sadie listened when I called her name!” Even if she listened, but then promptly ignored me. Or something else is just not quite right and I wish with my whole heart I were walking her instead or seeing her in the back seat of my car.

And that just seems like such a shitty thing to do to him. Except, of course, he’s a dog, so he has no idea what I’m thinking. He still curls up next to me on the couch or sits on my lap while he nuzzles his new ducky.

In that regard, I’m glad that he’s so different than her. I think it’d be even harder if we’d gotten another pit bull. But it’s nice that he looks nothing like her and is laid back in ways she just never could be.

Yesterday, we were playing and I grabbed his two lower canine teeth and was shaking him by them while singing him a silly song and it suddenly hit me that, my god, maybe sticking your hands in the mouth of a hundred pound dog in order to fuck around with his teeth is just like, oh, I don’t know, the worst idea ever! But we were both having a grand old time.

These things just take time. I know.

But can I tell you? I have a tiny fantasy about getting him a kitten. I think he’d really like someone to hang out with and curl up with. But we just can’t do three cats! Still, still. I think about it.

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Google Street View Drivers? Long-Haul Truckers? Walkers across America?

So, I’m writing this story. And, on the one hand, it’s not going well. And, by that, I mean, I have no fucking idea where it’s going. And I’m kind of not sure that my focus is on the right character. Or, if it is, what his fucking arc is supposed to be. On the other hand, I’m dying, because I’m having such fun writing it. Like, one of the central conceits is that the main character’s granddaughter needs to hit the road and go out and… well… conserve America’s vital magical resources. And, in the old days, she could have done this work while, say, being a hobo. But, in this day and age, where they scan railcars for heat signatures in most major cities and boxcar doors are more regularly closed, it’s hard to be a hobo. Just leaving aside the danger of a woman being a hobo.

So, I’ve been trying to come up with a job/lifestyle that could allow her the same kind of criss-crossing of America motion without the danger of constant rape, pretty much. And one that would then also put her in contact with evil villains for her to fight. And I had thought that a good evil villain plan would be to commandeer the Google Street View cars and magically mess with the images they’re taking so that they show… I don’t know… streets that no longer exist, houses that were torn down, maybe the terrible things that happened in the front yards of the places you drive by every day. Like, oh, you thought that was just a Walgreens, but here on Google Street View we’ll show you the gallows that used to be here in use!

But, frankly, America, I don’t think you’d find that incredibly evil or disturbing. I think you, like me, would find it fascinating. As far as evil plots go, it kind of sucks.

And then I’ve been mulling over whether the kids who go door to door to try to force you to buy magazines might actually be a force for evil. But it seems like, in real life, they might be already. So, maybe turning them into supernatural evil isn’t that creative.

But I’m already thousands of words into it! And I have no plot!

I guess what I’m saying is that, in this case, I’m writing something I enjoy and just barfing it all up on the screen, with the understanding that revising is going to be basically rewriting the thing to get it into the shape it needs. Sometimes, like with the Tilda part in Project X, the story comes to me so forcefully that, really, all I’m doing is sitting back and trying to get it all down as it comes. Like I just know the story inherently, before I even start writing it.

And sometimes it goes like this, where I’m doing a draft just to be all “And what’s this person’s deal? And what’s this person’s deal? And how did they meet and what’s it like when they meet again?” and that all might eventually get trimmed away from the final story. I just need to know it before I can write the final story.