Here are some thoughts about my current reading and writing, the long way around.
We are finally having one of those sweltering series of days here in Michigan. Yesterday I made my way down to an Everlast concert in Taylor only to find it outside in the 90 degree heat with swamplike humidity. A storm blew through and the stage cover filled with water and had to be cut. An adventure and possibly the most physically uncomfortable days of my life. I sweat buckets and stood in cheap flipflops on uneven pavement for 6 hours and it was possibly the best performance I’ve seen all summer and I had a blast. My feet still hurt.
On the way home, I declared that I would spend my day today in my dark, cool bedroom, under the fan, reading. Our AC took a shit last weekend and I shouldn’t be surprised because it appears to be at least 20 years old. Something I don’t have the money to fix currently and that I can live without until I am actually living without it. I also decided yesterday that if I have to live in my shitty little neighborhood, I am going to save up the money for that back deck and a fucking pool next year. Those are things I have discovered I can’t live without.
I woke up this morning and read a short story. “God” by Benjamin Nugent. It was good.
I did have to make a voyage into the world today because we decided to try to fix that damn AC. We ran into town and then the next town over in search of fuses and then grabbed way too much cheese wrapped in tortilla. Back at home, I died a napping death for a couple of hours and woke up to start in on Summerlong by Dean Bakopoulos.
I want to preface by saying that a couple of weeks ago I decided to take a break from my writing. I have been working on one novel for over a year now, off and on. I started it and then decided it was crap and put it aside, only to pull it up out of curiosity one day. I’ll be damned. It was good. It was good. I sent the first 50 pages to my best friend and got a text that said, “WTF??? Where is the rest of it? What happens? How can you do this to me?” I beamed and started writing again. Since I have been blasting forward, deciding to rest, blasting forward, being confused on where to go next. But I still liked it and knew that it was just the kind of thing that takes time.
It was all good doing it this way. I would take a break and work on the other project. See, I have a little young adult series that I have been working on for, I kid you not, 20 years. When I was 11 it started as a Fear Street rip off and it was great. I read the start to my mother and once in a while she will bring it up without even knowing that I am still working on it and working on it and working on it. Over the years, one book has become a plan for four, maybe five. The world building has gone crazy. The town is mapped and has legends and history and street names. I’m proud of the town and realizing how much can happen there to the point where I started randomly writing something and realized that it was taking place there too.
The problem is that, to my complete and utter, I don’t even know… Disappointment? I have been beaten to the punch. On both fucking projects, you guys! Both! My lovely cousin, Zac Brewer, set a story in the same town that I had altered into my town and it has a way cooler back story! Then I heard a review of Summerlong and thought, “That sounds a lot like my adult fiction piece…” And it is! It’s so close! How does this even happen?
But I can’t turn away. I have to read on and I have to write on. In fact, reading something so similar to my work has heped me figure out some plot stuff that was at a dead end. It will be a different book because I think that we are writing about different things but I’ll have to continue to see.
Some days I am flooded with ideas. They pour into my brain and fill me to the brim and I am near bursting. I just wonder how many people are having the same or very similar ones.
Also, if you ever have a chance, you should go and see Everlast. The man has a voice and is so Irish that he could have been Hubby’s cousin.