The Existential Toilet

I'm a creature of habit.

Currently, I'm a creature of habit without a toilet.

Well, technically I have one -- upstairs in my house -- but the one on the first floor is completely gutted and looking incredibly rough.

That's right, tax time in the Smith household means home renovations!

So, for the next week or two the four of us in the house will all be sharing my daughter's 40 sq ft rectangle that she calls a bathroom, complete with 36" x 36" shower that is barely big enough for me, let alone my tall wife.

I've been grumpy. I failed to think through the ramifications of having to share way too much space with every other member of my family. I'm not a social person and no longer having a first floor bathroom has turned me into something of a bear.

During the day when the contractors are here I've been taking my soon to be 4 year old upstairs with me to hang out. We have 4 bedrooms upstairs, and a movie theater! Yet, this kid isn't happy. He wants to come downstairs and watch the workers, which I won't allow him to do. It's loud, the air is full of dust and insulation particles, and it's just unpleasant and he doesn't need to be underfoot.

So, now he's grumpy too.

I've been contemplating my recent angst and attempting to find a further meaning in it. I think it's just a loss of power and control in a situation and no longer feeling completely comfortable in a place that has always been extremely safe.

I'm having an existential crisis...over a toilet. It's not the toilet, itself, it's what the toilet represents. It represents gleaming, pristine, porcelain freedom to be able to roam my house and not have to tiptoe upstairs to take care of business when everyone is asleep. It's about being able to shower and groom on my own schedule instead of the twenty allotted minutes that I currently have!

The real question, though, is why does any of that matter? It's not a big deal, really! So why does it needle me so much?

It's like I'm living at home with my parents, twenty five years ago. I suddenly feel like I am on a clockwork schedule, have zero privacy, and have a mountain of things to do that I can't get done because someone is constantly in my way!

It's affecting my writing schedule, too, and that really throws me into a snit. Last week it was my poor, fluffy kitty boy tossing my writing into chaos. Now it's an ample-cracked plumber walking up and down the stairs all day, who's searching for leaky pipes and making sure that the water pressure is good for both bathrooms.

This isn't fun!

Yes, I will live.

Again, it's not a big deal. Somebody just needs to tell my brain it's not a big deal.

I miss my bathtub, too. *sigh*

Life Interrupted

Just when I'm on a roll and nearly finishing a stage of a project something seems to happen. That sounds selfish. Seriously, I would rather be interrupted by anything else besides what has happened here over the past several days.

Friday I noticed our nearly 11 year old ragdoll cat acting a bit off. He was still eating, but light, and spending more time sleeping in my laundry than normal. By Saturday morning I couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong, though the outside symptoms seemed to be invisible to anyone else. I convinced my wife to take her baby (whom she adopted 3 years before we met) to his vet appointment while I tended to Saturday chores with out three year old.

The diagnosis was grim. His body wasn't producing red blood cells. Instead of a healthy level between 25 and 50%, his red cell count was below 10%. His white blood cell count was low, as well. He was sent home since he was still at least eating a bit of food and treats, with four medications to combat a possible bacterial infection while some blood work was sent out for analysis (which would take upwards of a week.)

Coal continued to slide until Sunday night it was obvious that he didn't have long left. He was weak and collapsed into his litter pan. In a frantic last ditch effort to help the poor guy we rushed him to Michigan State University's 24 hour emergency veterinary clinic, roughly 60 miles away. It was 1:00am Monday morning by the time my wife arrived there.

The next several hours crawled by as I held vigil at home over the children (and a newly acquired hamster that was adapting to the house.) My wife and I both went two days without sleep. That never helps any situation. Our 3 year old was picking up on our sadness and commenting on it. His eating began to deteriorate and we were on the verge of sending him to his grandparents for a couple of days.

Monday afternoon we finally got a result from a bone marrow draw on the poor kitty boy. The good news was that it wasn't cancer. Unfortunately, he has an autoimmune disease and his own body is attacking his ability to produce blood cells. He was given a transfusion and put on medication to treat the autoimmune disease late Monday.

Today's update was that his blood cell count has stabilized, holding from his transfusion now that we have a plan of treatment underway. The vet said that Coal is a bit more feisty but still not eating. They were unaware of that cat's utter disdain for wet or canned cat food. So my wife went down there today to take a bag of treats and dry food that he typically eats here and to spend some time with him. The current hope is that he will begin eating in the next day or two and be able to come home soon.

To anyone who would say "it's just a cat" I would heartily roll my eyes. When you spend a decade with a creature who loves you and depends on you it isn't a pet, it's a child. Unfortunately, all of ours are aging and we have lost three in the past few years. Our remaining ones are 2 nearly 11 year olds and a 14 year old.

With this treatment we are hopeful and cautiously optimistic that Coal will live out the rest of his natural life, but each day is its own battle right now.

I am trying to be a bit more understanding toward myself no longer burying myself in my writing and feeling the motivation completely gone. There is no inspiration right now. I desperately want to finish the first draft of Maestra before I lose momentum but the story isn't speaking to me right now.

With a whole lot of luck life will slowly return to something resembling normal and the typically unending worlds within my head begin spinning again. Until then it's a matter of going through the motions and waiting to see if the bottom will firm up or fall out.

Lacking Character

'There, amongst the ashes of his enemies, the mighty warrior rises from the embers unscathed. His puritan standards have been upheld and all evil has been vanquished while everything good in the world now bows before his might!'

Ugh. So much ugh.

I received some feedback over the weekend that I may have taken in a weird way.

First of all, I am completely open to feedback on my stories. It helps me become a better writer but the feedback I got just kind of hit me in just the right way that it made the hamster inside my skull fall completely off his wheel for a moment.

The comment was that my main character should have been pure good to be a good role model to the readers and that, because he was conflicted, he was totally unrelatable.

Huh. I actually spent way longer thinking about this than I should have.

Here's the thing. ANYONE can write the stories that they want and this is in no way a criticism of how someone chooses to write characters or present a story...but...

Isn't that just tired and played out? I'm not writing a superhero movie (and often superheroes are full of their own conflict.)

I'm writing fiction about characters that people can relate to. Let's be honest. If such a thing as pure good exists it is exceedingly rare in the universe. Most people are fundamentally flawed and have their own inner demons dragging at them. These are the people I create. I like characters that are off-balance and tend to do the right thing for the wrong reasons. Part of horror, to me, is showing how utterly broken people can become in certain situations and how absolutely irrational their thinking can become.

I don't blame this person for wanting to read about upstanding people with the purest of intentions but...

...why would you read a horror novel and expect to encounter that?

So, now my mind has kind of fixated on that. Are my characters unrelatable to normal people because they aren't black or white? My antagonists often have very good reasons for being the way that they are, as do the protagonists -- which are anything but heroes.

I was just caught off guard by this. I had no response other than to just nod and say "huh, interesting." It is an interesting observation and I guess I should have expected it, but I just never realized that anyone reads horror novels seeking moral guidance from characters.

I am trying to heed the advice that I have given to so many, though. You can't make everyone happy. It's only natural that when you receive feedback your brain will ignore the 99% positive and fixate on the 1% negative. Why do I react like this? It's because I am just an average human who exists somewhere in the grey. I'm not perfect...just like my characters.

So, if you like broken characters that make poor decisions under duress, please check out FREE on Kindle Unlimited or $2.99 on eBook. The Morbid Fascinations of David Bennett. https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1701845431

and coming this summer, the follow-up: Maestra

Life Inevitably Gets in the Way

Last week I entered into the third act of the first draft of Maestri. Finally, after 75,000 words the stage was set and it was time to set Arabella out into the world on her own to see if she will sink or swim in the face of opposing forces hunting her down. I say finally because I really wanted to be at this point over a month ago. I love schedules. I don't force myself to write when I'm not feeling it but I love analytics and use them frequently to help me figure out a schedule for myself. I have a lot on my plate for the upcoming summer and figured that I would be done drafting by June or July and would have a solid two months for editing before sending Maestri off into the wide world at the end of summer 2020.

Oh, how life gets in the way.

My nearly four year old has been having potty training issues which are giving him anxiety. After working it out with his doctors it seems that all we can do is wait for him to develop a bit more. He's slowly showing the signs but until he does it is distracting and it takes a bit out of me, mentally. To non-parents it probably sounds pretty ridiculous but a lot of parents know that potty training is one of the most psychologically grueling stretches a parent can face in their child's development.

It's also a time of year where I just get into a funk.

On February 22 2006 my best friend's family burned to death in a house fire. Every single year it hits me all over again. Even after fourteen years I am still coping with the tragedy. I have nightmares and I hear voices and see things, mostly around this time of year. It's a completely natural part of the cycle of grief and I work it out in many ways. The theme of fire being a bit of symbol of death and rebirth in The Morbid Fascinations of David Bennett comes directly from this.

Spring is also around the corner, so I find myself staring out my window instead of at my Chromebook -- daydreaming of taking it outside and writing in the shade on a warm afternoon.

So, Maestri might get pushed back a month or so. It depends on how soon I can find my motivation. I feel that once I get past the first draft it will get easier. The road will have already been mapped, it will simply be a matter of finding the shortest route to my destination.

I hope you all can be patient. I promise it will be well worth the wait.

In the meantime, if you want to see the origin of these characters...

The Morbid Fascinations of David Bennett. Free on Kindle Unlimited, $2.99 ebook, or $12.99 6x9 paperback. https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1701845431

Off topic: Homemade Garlic Awesome Alfredo Sauce

Ah, memories of my childhood, sitting at my grandma's table and ---

Just kidding, here's the recipe

1/2 cup butter or substitute (I use I Can't Believe It's Vegan)
1 pint heavy cream
1 small chopped white onion (optional)
7 ounces garlic chive cream cheese (or any other flavor if you prefer - though strawberry cream cheese may be a choice that would cause your loved ones to question your sanity and kitchen competence.)
7 ounces of grated Parmesan/Romano/Asiago cheese (personal preferences, yo) Deli fresh or bagged preferred. If you use the Parm stuff from a can it will be so dry that you'll likely experience an out of body experience that will drop you on the surface of Arakis.
1 tspn ground black pepper
1 tspn dried italian seasoning, if you're feeling extra italian

Warm the butter over low to medium heat. Once it's melted feel free to throw in some onions. Saute for 2 to 4 minutes if you add the onion.

Pour in heavy cream. DON'T BOIL ANY OF THIS OR THE WORLD WILL END!

Add in your cream cheese. It's going to take a while for it to soften and melt. Be patient, stir fairly frequently. Put the phone down and pay attention to what you're doing so it doesn't boil! (see comment above)

Once the cream cheese is melted add in your pepper and italian seasonings (optional.) Stir it all together.

Add in the Parmesan cheese or cheese blend, slowly stirring it in. Again, it's going to require patience while it all melts.

Yes, the heat is low but boiling this mess will result in your alfredo separating and then congealing into a tasty brick once it cools.

Total time: 20 - 25 minutes (15 if you want a ruined sauce, 30 if you're overly cautious.)

Cook up your favorite pasta and pour the sauce over. I recommend cheese tortellini.

Put leftover sauce in a container that seals and refrigerate. Will remain good for up to one week if stored properly. Simply reheat in microwave for roughly 1 minute per cup used.

Serving size for the above recipe is however much you feel like stuffing in your belly. Go on, treat yo' self!

Enjoy!

Screaming Into the Void

After a few months of promotion I am dialing things back now that MFoDB is out in the wild. Sales online have been so-so. When I do physical appearances it seems to go much better. That's just the way it is for a lot of writers, I think. There are so many of us out there (upwards of 12 million, according to Amazon) that we really have to aggressively try to capture our own little piece of the pie.

That brings me to the subject of promotion curve. Before publishing my debut I heard that it was a learning curve and WOW has it ever been. There are a million people using a million different promotion strategies so I won't even pretend that I know enough to offer any kind of advice. What I did want to talk about was exactly how much of a grind promoting my work has been.

Social media was a huge help with me along the way, in building a readership, and getting a lot of good advice...and by social media I mean Twitter because Facebook is a crap filled dumpster that really should be burned to the ground. I do feel sorry for people that get sick of seeing books spamming their Twitter feed, though, but I hope they also understand that for authors (especially new ones like myself) we really have to throw our books out there so often just for it to saturate the tiniest fraction of the potential audience.

More often than not promoting - be it on social media, or with paid ads on a venue like Amazon, Bookbub, etc - feels like screaming into the wind when no one is actively listening and you just have to keep at it until someone finally hears you and checks to see what all of the hollering is about. I don't mind sinking some change into promotion but when I looked at impressions vs click through rates it was such an eye opening experience for me. People who sell things have to do two things -- create a lot of something to sell, and advertise the heck right out of it until sales lead to reviews, then word of mouth starts circulating, and so on.

If you're a fledgling author please don't expect your book to sprout wings and take off. Stay humble about expectations and realize that, much like with a child, you're going to have to nurture the crap out of the thing until it stumbles out on its own - to succeed or to fail. Just don't give up on it, like a parent would never give up on their child.

Keep on screaming into the void, folks. Believe it or not, someone is actually listening.

Blood on the Floor

I'm nearly 70,000 words into the writing of Maestra (formerly Maestri) and have come to the realization that I am very guilty of over-writing this thing. Holy crap, this MS is full of bloat. I briefly considered deleting a major portion of Part 2 and starting over but I'm convinced that there is enough salvageable material to justify leaving it and re-working it in the second draft.

My number one enemy at this stage is exposition. Sure, I have a lot of information that needs to come out but I am doing it incredibly poorly in parts. It's clunky and just not clicking. What's really frustrating is that some of those scenes transition into great sequences so it's going to be a surgical strike when I tear this script limb from limb in the next pass.

It's probably reasonable to say that most authors suffer these frustrations. It's all part of the career. I had minor issues like this in Morbid Fascinations of David Bennett but not nearly of the scale that I experienced in the middle of Maestra. By the time I hit 70,000 words I should have been well on my way to wrapping up part 2 and going into the home stretch of part 3, but I don't even see the light at the end of the tunnel from where my story is at. I think in draft 2 a character may end up dying just to speed things along.

Hopefully writing draft 2 of this doesn't follow my experience with writing MFODB in that I actually increased the word count of that book by 15,000 on the second draft.

I enjoy editing when I hit that stage but on this book it really is going to feel like gutting my book. I can't see myself putting out a 180,000 word novel at this point in my career. It just wouldn't work. So I'm going to have to slice and dice this storyline down into something that keeps the pace moving and doesn't feel like some sort of grand egotistical escapade. Things are going to get bloody.

I apologize for not posting more often, lately, but life has been a bit hectic. I've been booking signings and trying to be a responsible husband and daddy while juggling my writing. I hope you all are enjoying the last weeks of winter. Will update again soon.

Morbid Fascinations of David Bennett, now on sale for 99 cents on ebook through February 6th, or FREE on Kindle Unlimited! https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1701845431