To those of you who may not know, you should never walk up to a bartender and take a drink that has been made under the instruction “make something that will F$#k us up.”
No matter how much you want to text that girl, doesn’t matter how well you think you composed the message, don’t text her if you have been drinking.
That’s pretty much it, anything else you want to do you can just go out and do it. Don’t murder anybody either. Okay, now you can do everything else.
It’s the strongest tool you will ever have, and for that I say, Steve Jobs you really did things right.
I don’t ever want to be dying but I do want to live like somebody had just told me I was. Right now I am to scared. I’m scared of wasting any money I save, I’m scared of taking the wrong risk, that if I take a chance I might be compromising my future. The gift of knowing you are about to die is that there is no future to compromise. Why not take the risk if the outcome will be the same tomorrow.
Somehow I have to convince myself that if I take a risk today, I will still be okay tomorrow. Only then can I live like I am dying, only then will I ever stand a chance of being the type of man that Steve Jobs was.
Inspiration can come in many ways, yet somehow we have a way of losing our inspiration even faster than it came. In the face of hard work, time consumption and the sheer fact that there are other things we need or want to do, our inspiration gets lost.
So what separates the champions from everybody else, how do they keep their inspiration, how do they seem to always win wile the rest of us lose our inspiration and drop our goals?
The answer might be so simple that it hurts, they simply want it more. It’s a concept my parents taught me when I was a little kid “Whoever wants it more is going to win.”
I had forgotten that for a long time until I saw a video a little wile ago. It talked about a rich old man holding a younger one under water, the young man thrashed and wailed until he was about to pass out, that what when the old man brought him up for air. “When you want to be successful as much as you want to breath, then you will be successful.
Now, every time I start to slack off I ask myself how bad I want to be successful, and then I get back to work.
Twelve years ago my cousin Steve died in a plane crash. It was a devastating blow that rocked my family like nothing you could imagine. Another one of my cousins, Steve’s sister wanted to wright a book about all the weird reactions people have when they get the news that somebody very close has died unexpectedly. It would be called, I Bought Stamps My Sister Bought Donuts, because that was what she had done when she got the news that her brother had died, gone out in a mindless haze and bought stamps.
Today I was thinking about that book and how it might pan out, or how everybody’s storys would be told. I started writing down my own recollection of what I remember from that day. It is a little hazy at points but there are some moments I will never forget for the rest of my life. And then I started writing, and went through what I remember beginning to end. What I ended up with was a small peace of what would be my chapter in I Bought Stamps My Sister Bought Donuts. It was a story that I had never spoken of out loud EVER… until now. Here is what I ended up with.
I have five memories forever plastered in my mind, they are the moments leading up to and proceeding Steve’s death.
The first, this memory persists because it was the last time I ever saw Steve. It was the forth of July and the whole family had gathered together at my cousin Kelly’s. She had a canal that bordered the edge of her property. In the memory I am standing high on a hill. There are people everywhere, talking, laughing. My eyes are on one person in particular, Steve, he is trying to get his jet skis to work but can’t, they are bogged down with water. He rides one to the far end of the canal, whips it around and comes back. He looks so cool, I want to be like that, I remember thinking. I turn to go play with my other cousins and as I do the memory fades.
The next memory is one I referred to as “my last happy memory” up until well into my high school years. I am at my Aunt Paula and Uncle Bobs, I am sitting on the back porch, it’s a hot summer night. My cousin Chuck is running his hand through a candle flame as Tiki torches cast shadows across his face.i was mesmerized, he took my hand and ran it over the flame, it didn’t hurt. Sometimes even today I will run my hand over a candle and remember my last happy memory.
My next memories are all packed together and can be measured through corresponding stretches of time.
The first is and always will be the single worst moment of my life. It’s the kind of memory that will haunt a person in their sleep until the day they die. I fact of which this memory taught me could happen at any time. I was wrapped up in a sleeping bag, peacefully sleeping the morning away in our upstairs loft. I awoke that morning to my mother, she was screaming. It was like nothing I had ever heard before, half weeping, half shocked and angry outburst. I can’t remember what was said or what she looked like when I descended those stairs, simply because I don’t want to. That’s one moment that I will happily suppress forever. I remember Babe the pig was playing on the TV and till this day I refuse to ever watch that movie again.
Fast forward two or three hours, I am at my Aunt Dar and Uncle Mike’s ranch style home. There is a pull barn at the top of the driveway, the second floor of the pull barn is an apartment. I am crammed up there with twenty other people all crowded around a little TV. Through the window I can see other cars flying up the driveway. “Oh my god, there it is!” I hear my cousin Kim say, she has her hand over her mouth. There is footage of a plane wreck on the TV. When it flashes the faces of the victims my cousin Steve is one of them.
Fast forward another hour or so, I am at the neighbors house down the road with a few other of the younger cousins. I have begun to toss an idea back and forth in my head. Steve was a prankster, what if this was all just an elaborate hoax? Any minute now he would come rolling up the driveway with his friends. “Surprise! I’m not dead, you should see the look on your faces!”
I decided to test this theory out loud. I say it to one of my cousins in a way that makes it sound, to me at least, like I am joking around. The neighbor overhears me as he is walking into the room. I can’t remember the exact words he used or in what tone he said it but his point remains chizzled into my memory like stone.
This isn’t a joke, Steve isn’t off with his friends somewhere, no one is waiting to jump out of a closet and yell surprise, your cousin is dead.
“What does he know.” I whispered as he left the room.
Crunch time, what does it mean? Is it a time when you are so close to being done with something that you stop all other projects? Wouldn’t you benifit more for playing like it was crunch time all the time? What makes it so much more valuable to only crunch at the end of a project.
Maybe you get overwelmed and end up putting the project off to the side if you go at it to hard for to long. Maybe its that shiny ribon at the finish line that is drawing you towards the end, forcing you to keep throwing one foot in front of the other.
If that is crunch time, than what is the rest of your time? Leisurely work when you feel like it time?
I think this is why there are so many adults getting published over the younger people. You never hear of a both new and young author (With a few exceptions, Cough, cough, Christopher Paolini…) breaking out in the market, they are all at least over thirty. I think this is because they are far better at creating crunch time all the time. Younger people have to many distractions, what with a strong connection to all your friends, and bars. As you grow up I think you lose those connections, in fact you don’t even really want them anymore. The point is, you have more time to work on the little things.
Captains log, Juli 21, 2011,
Yesterday was the hottest day of my life, today was even hotter. As I crossed the large parking lot at the mall I couldn’t help but think, Is this what its like to cross a desert?
The sun has been pulverizing us for five days now. At work they shut off half the lights to try and save energy. The result is an eerie reminder of times long ago, before power. At home there is no air conditioning, nor does my truck provide any relief. I dive into my pool but it is over ninety five degrees. I don’t come out feeling refreshed, just wet. Even the computer monitor has given up and I am afraid other products might soon fallow.
If you had told me this morning that it could get worse, I would have said impossible. Now I see, for this morning at the mall, every cashier was astonishingly hot. Now not only am I physically burning up, but mentally as well.
Though things like this can be drastically different for many people, one fact remains. Where and when you write can be one of the most important decisions you make in your entire carrier.
Stephen King once wrote that he doesn’t start his day until after he has written a certain number of words. Meanwhile, self publishing phenomenon, Amanda Hocking prefers to do her writing at night (three in the morning to be exact). Both pump out books like it’s nobody’s business.
Stephenie Meyer once said that she can not write unless she is listening to music. Personally I cant write unless the room is silent.
A couple of years ago I was working twelve hours a day, six days a week. I have never written more than when I was in that time frame. Not even now that I am working eight hours, five days a week. I would come home, work out for an hour, write for two hours, read for another hour and go to bed. Sundays were spent revising the previous weeks chapter. I wrote ten chapters in ten weeks. It’s an unheard of number for me.
The truth is, I achieved such high efficiency because I was out of state and all my friends were back home. Plus I was only twenty, I had no reason not to sit at the computer.
Now that I’m back home, it seams almost impossible to find a decent amount of time to write. My solution- My handy dandy note book. I take it with me wherever I go and use any free time I get to write a page hear or there. I usually spend the first hour after I wake up to transfer everything I wrote into word press. The result is that I have been getting a tone written every week. It’s nothing like those ten weeks in new york but it’s still more than any other time.
I was sitting at work today and I got to thinking, I have some of the most irrational fears in the world.
If I’m in the ocean I am afraid of sharks. If I am going for a jog up north, I am afraid a bear is going to jump out and eat me.
Lets say you have been dating a girl for a long time and you decide that you want to marry her. What if when you ask her dad he says no? Whats the protocol on that? Do you dump her? I wouldn’t dare ask the question anyways.
What if you ask a girl to marry you on the jumbo screen at the world series and she says no. That scenario alone is enough to make me never try a public stunt like that.
Okay, so maybe I have more fears than that, but those were the ones that randomly popped into my head today.
I was showing my buddy Kris this blog earlier and shortly before bringing it up he asked if it was full of cool stuff like how to survive a zombie attack. Well Kris, today it is… sort of.
I once read an article in GQ all about how zombies are the most American monster out there. The article went on and on, going over the time line of how zombies came to be and explaining how it was all done in the united states. It also stated that zombies can’t be girlied up like vampires or werewolves. You might be able to fall in love with a vampire but no one wants to kiss a zombie.
Personally, for a zombie movie to be good it has to portray one of two things-
1. The first type of zombie movie would have to show the birth of the disease, fallowed by a gradual take over, and ending with some sort of solution for the main characters.
2. The second portrays a destroyed society.The story revolves around a post apocalyptic scenario. In these stories the zombies don’t necessarily have to be part of the main plot. Their presence alone is enough.
For me, the best portrayal of number one would be Resident Evil Apocalypse. As far as number two goes, I’m not sure. There are a lot of pretty good ones (land of the dead, zombie land, I am legend) but nothing that has really blown me away. If the book of Eli had zombies in it, it would have definitely made the list.
There are different kinds of zombies that can affect the story too. Some are slow and brainless, others are fast and can take on the characteristics of a mighty predator. Some have super human strength wile some have the strength of a rotting corps. Others can learn the most basic of human skills, like how to open a door. There is even the rare case when the zombies are just as smart as when they were still human but still lust after cannibalism to survive.
My favorite are the brainless, slow moving, week ones. For me, the thrill of a zombie outbreak isn’t in a bunch of predators scouring the land, it is in a constantly growing, slow moving, mass that consumes everything as it spreads.
What do you want to see when you watch a zombie movie, and what zombies do you want to see in it?
So I just got done working on “Williams story” a couple of minutes ago and I I’m happy to say that I only have one chapter to go and then I’m done with the rough draft.
Williams story is my latest novel I have been working on. It doesn’t have a title yet and the main character is William so that’s where it gets it’s name for now.
Right now it sits at 58,000 words and after the epilogue I’m hoping it hits 60,000. That’s pretty decent. It spans about twenty chapters. I’m planning on taking a week to do the last chapter, that seams about right. I cant weight to get it done, I’m counting down the days. Of course I am going to immediately start revising it so that relief is going to be short lived.
Want to know a secret? Doing the second draft is way funner than the first.
Once the second draft is done I will probably go over it a third time. This will take less than a week. The third time is pretty much just a read through.
After that I will give my life’s savings to an editor so they can go over it with a red pen. And finally I will start the big battle for an agent… Yeehaw!
But then what? But then what?
Well, then I am going to go back to working on my novel about a mass murdering super hero. Beyond that the world is my oyster.
I’m thinking about writing a sequel to Dinosaurs In Home Depot. I will call it Zombies At The Zoo or something.