The Process

During the week, I try to write when I get home. This usually fails especially if I'm in the middle of a good book. Right now it's Filth by Irvine Welsh. Imagine Notes From the Underground except the "protagonist" has a tapeworm and you'll kind of get the idea.

I've found that I can crank out about 250 words without blinking. That equates to about a page which means at least a page a day. On the weekends I can do anywhere from 700-1200 a day depending on what else I have going on, depending on how my mind is oriented. Whether or not any of this is good we'll determine come revision time. Lazy math suggests a completed first draft by the middle of 2010.

Fiddlesticks. Maybe I'll know my plot by then.

Lately there's been an onslaught of writerliness. Jonathan Goldstein read at the University Bookstore on Monday. I met him, showed him the one magic trick I know (it involves putting a size 10 1/2 boot in my mouth) and got my copy of Ladies and Gentlemen, The Bible signed. Not bad.

Then Sherman Alexie sat in on Tuesday's Weekday. He reduced me to a quivering ball of fear after saying, no repeating something he'd said earlier about not making it as writer by the time you turn forty. No pressure.

On the Wednesday ride home, listening to All Things Considered, Sarah Pekkanen spoke about the three books that helped her land a book deal. I have one of the three and I'm aware of the other two. I suppose that's a start but I'm growing tired of reading books about writing. I never finished Plot and Structure either. What I read was good and I'd recommend it to all of y'all that aspire. Books on writing only make me want to write more. At this stage of the game I think the only way for me to get better is by doing, not dreaming about doing.

I keep Lawrence Block's Telling Lies For Fun and Profit under my pillow in case I'm wrong about that.

Ana Castillo will be reading at the Seattle Public Library Thursday 4/23. Hoping to come up with a new magic trick by then. I except to break down into a puddle of blathering nothing, going on and on about how So Far From God helped me realize what I want to do with my life.

It's okay though. I'd much rather leave it on the table than in my heart.

I love you; You smell gross

I'm an early riser and every morning on my way out the door to work, I go back to the bedroom, fumble around in the darkness (or semi-darkness depending on the season) find my wife, usually buried under the comforter, and give her kiss to say goodbye.

She'll say things like, "Bye", or "I love you" or "Have a good day" in her barely awake voice. Today she said, "I love you." and as I left the bedroom she added, sounding somewhat disoriented, "You smell... gross."

It had been one of those mornings where I had trouble putting one foot in front of the other so I took it on the chin.

This is why one should strive to take their garlic supplement before brushing their teeth especially if kissing someone is on the immediate menu.

But you probably already knew that.