<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645</id><updated>2011-11-27T16:07:30.907-08:00</updated><category term='childhood'/><category term='Stone Zoo'/><category term='Netflix'/><category term='Writers Digest Editors'/><category term='books'/><category term='Paper mache'/><category term='changing high school'/><category term='art'/><category term='Melissa Hill Zac Petit'/><category term='Watching Movies'/><category term='Zoo'/><category term='creativity'/><category term='Fun trip'/><category term='regrets'/><category term='Yahoo stock'/><category term='memories'/><category term='BEA Conference'/><category term='writing help'/><category term='Writers convference'/><category term='AAA'/><category term='Reed Hastings'/><category term='school project'/><category term='writing time'/><category term='Alice Pope'/><category term='writing'/><category term='whale'/><category term='Stoneham Massachusetts'/><title type='text'>Thoughts of a George</title><subtitle type='html'>Thoughts and ponderings of a writer.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>61</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-949663489207957147</id><published>2010-04-21T03:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-21T07:47:15.433-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Childrens Museum, Dolly Parton, Big...... Beers and Sexual Gum.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;     So yesterday we went to Boston....... Getting three kids dressed, shoes on, with all the stuff needed for the trip, which includes but not limited to their cameras, games, stuffed animals, batteries, chargers, pillow, blankets, transformers, mp3 player, and whatever else I might have packed and don't know about.... is exhausting in itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh did I mention getting April out the door is an even bigger challenge.. Oh.. well.... that's because it isn't.... wink, wink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we managed to get out the door and on the road at about 10:30am, which wasn't a bad time. At least until our car started doing some strange things on the highway...... It was jerking to one side when making a turn into the right lane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh it'll be fine April......" I told April, after she said we should switch cars. Well about fifteen minutes in, after seeing April squeezing the door handle the whole time, I realized it probably wouldn't be alright to drive in bumper to bumper traffic......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we turned around to switch cars.. Despite a few protests from the kids, the damage control wasn't bad. Kind of easy actually. We just told them that if we didn't switch the car, we might be broken down on the highway and never make it to Boston.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes for the record, April did say "I told you so..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sooooo fifteen minutes back home, and we switched everything to the smaller car. Yes I said smaller car. But hey, after taking a wheel off the stroller, we managed to fit it all. Well, except the cooler anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S88Hl8axsRI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/wOWVQTouJQ0/s1600/IMG_9487.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462593221478691090" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S88Hl8axsRI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/wOWVQTouJQ0/s200/IMG_9487.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Are we there yet?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in the car, and on the way again....... We managed to forget the directions...... Luckily I remembered the exit number.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We made it to Boston in about an hour and a half. Got off at exit twenty-three and was parked within five minutes. Five minute walk to the Children's Museum, and we were ready to explore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We made our way through the first floor. Marcus loved the Raceway room, and I must confess I did too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think of a room full of kids, chasing golf balls around so they can roll them down a bunch of tracks that teach them about momentum, gravity and whatever else makes balls go...... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S877a3eB1XI/AAAAAAAAAGY/Wq4EbroDWD0/s1600/IMG_9469.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462579837032060274" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S877a3eB1XI/AAAAAAAAAGY/Wq4EbroDWD0/s200/IMG_9469.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went to the bubble room. Can anyone say WET!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S8776VG5O6I/AAAAAAAAAGg/fhHgUK_NCzA/s1600/IMG_9474.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 169px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462580377564036002" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S8776VG5O6I/AAAAAAAAAGg/fhHgUK_NCzA/s200/IMG_9474.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Kids and water.......... then add bubbles......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S879_R5FaII/AAAAAAAAAHI/Alr-OV6K6Qk/s1600/IMG_9478.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 127px; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462582661623408770" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S879_R5FaII/AAAAAAAAAHI/Alr-OV6K6Qk/s200/IMG_9478.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Like I said Kids and Water....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Then off to the second floor, the elevator is always a hit, considering it's all glass and you can see the city line from inside it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S88Ayc33DrI/AAAAAAAAAHY/PwQXXnU7KWs/s1600/IMG_9494.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 73px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462585739767647922" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S88Ayc33DrI/AAAAAAAAAHY/PwQXXnU7KWs/s200/IMG_9494.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Some climbing.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S879-z7nBuI/AAAAAAAAAHA/o-mq4AG2FFE/s1600/IMG_9519.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462582653580936930" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S879-z7nBuI/AAAAAAAAAHA/o-mq4AG2FFE/s200/IMG_9519.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; We visited Curious George...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S879-7x8UBI/AAAAAAAAAG4/YND7rBz6Mmw/s1600/IMG_9527.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 128px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462582655687872530" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S879-7x8UBI/AAAAAAAAAG4/YND7rBz6Mmw/s200/IMG_9527.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; April in the Construction Zone saying "Vrooooom!"&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S88GcvrhzSI/AAAAAAAAAII/dF9slWPvqh4/s1600/menjorgie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462591963928841506" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S88GcvrhzSI/AAAAAAAAAII/dF9slWPvqh4/s200/menjorgie.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Yeah, we're the only normal ones......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;We spent about four hours in the museum... and left when they kicked us out. They closed at 5:00 which gave us a good amount of time to do most of the stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now everyone was hungry and small hunger signs were popping up everywhere... Not that anyone was grumpy. The Ingram family doesn't get grumpy...... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S879-YPUKXI/AAAAAAAAAGw/NUEop7sbKuo/s1600/IMG_9468.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462582646147393906" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S879-YPUKXI/AAAAAAAAAGw/NUEop7sbKuo/s200/IMG_9468.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; No, this isn't a grumpy April......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;This is..... Just kidding I would rather stay alive!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;We left the museum walked over the bridge,  along Congress st, down Purchase street all the way to Quincy Market. It was a nice walk, a beautiful day to stroll through the small parks along the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We made it into Quincy Market at about 6:00 and none of us knew where we wanted to eat. April and I wanted to sit down , so that was a start. We walked around the outskirts of the market and looked at some of the menus. We finally decided on a place called Dicks Last Resort. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S88NzxgwSYI/AAAAAAAAAIY/wvp8ouXi7qk/s1600/IMG_9535.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 233px; HEIGHT: 62px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462600056138910082" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S88NzxgwSYI/AAAAAAAAAIY/wvp8ouXi7qk/s200/IMG_9535.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Dicks Last Resort&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We asked the host if she had a kids menu and they did. So we decided why not.... I mean if they had a kids menu, they must be kid friendly, right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the host sat us, and on her shirt it said..... Don't ask me about Dicks Last Resort........ I guess I should have known then huh....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So she sat us at a table. The music was loud, blasting 80's tunes, but it was good. Joslyn seemed to like it the most, bobbing her head and dancing in her seat. We didn't have to worry about the kids being loud that was for sure..... So then the waitress came and tossed (yes literaly tossed)the utensils on the table and said. "Here have these....."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She asked us if we had been there before, and after saying no she told us it was a sarcastic themed restaurant. But with a quick look around at the large hats made of wax paper it was a little obvious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So April and I ordered a beer, and the kids drinks as well. She came back with two buckets with ice and a whopping 24 ounce Heineken in each....... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S88EC4hvZNI/AAAAAAAAAIA/GBCSg_Q0yMQ/s1600/me.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 150px; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462589320603854034" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S88EC4hvZNI/AAAAAAAAAIA/GBCSg_Q0yMQ/s200/me.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Yes is says "I eat my boogers!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So then she asked if we were ready to order. The menu was pretty simple, mostly BBQ ribs, steak and chicken.... But of course April wanted to know what the Dolly Parton dish was...... The waitress smiled cocked her hipo and said. "She's not know for her legs hunny.... Two chicken breasts......"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I ordered the ribs and chicken and April followed suit with ordering the same. Jorgie ordered fried shrimp kids meal and two corn dog meals for Joslyn and Marcus. The waitress returned a few minutes later with two hats for the kids....... Jorgies said "I don't even know these people!" And Marcus' said "I eat my boogers!" Marcus quickly took his off and threw it on the floor, so I scooped it up and put it on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got our food in metal buckets, which was interesting....... but fun. It was an overall fun time. At one point one of the waiters was yelling (and it had to be loud to be louder than the music) if anyone wanted to buy his paychecks for a month, they could..... No one bought them... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;All around the restaurant were signs like "Size does matter." Behind the bar, the bartender was dressed in 80's garb, sporting a mullet and sunglasses. On one of the ladies hats it said.... "Wanted, sober hairdresser." I guess I can feel grateful that I didn't have a hat like that.... Proably would have said something about my bald spot. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S88AzdKBwKI/AAAAAAAAAHw/FJ3CreMhWxk/s1600/IMG_9541.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462585757023715490" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S88AzdKBwKI/AAAAAAAAAHw/FJ3CreMhWxk/s200/IMG_9541.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; They were nice to Jorgie. "I don't even know these people.."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left the restaurant and Jorgie wanted to get a trinket. So I waited outside with Joslyn and they went in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S88Ayuy29iI/AAAAAAAAAHg/UDGBXCQyTrs/s1600/IMG_9537.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462585744578508322" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S88Ayuy29iI/AAAAAAAAAHg/UDGBXCQyTrs/s200/IMG_9537.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; She is such a patient little girl....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had the camera and was taking some pictures of Marcus and Joslyn and an older man stopped and asked if I wanted him to take our picture. I said sure, and handed him the camera. The whole time I was thinking, "If he runs with my camera, I'm running after him...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S88AyzSAeJI/AAAAAAAAAHo/F2gY0Eicayk/s1600/IMG_9539.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462585745782896786" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S88AyzSAeJI/AAAAAAAAAHo/F2gY0Eicayk/s200/IMG_9539.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he handed the camera back....... Thank goodness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After waiting outside and people watching..... they finally came out and April handed me some gum...... "I got you something."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S879_nLO36I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/IfJxktw4r00/s1600/IMG_9546.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 115px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462582667336671138" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S879_nLO36I/AAAAAAAAAHQ/IfJxktw4r00/s200/IMG_9546.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; I read it. "Oh thanks hun..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she said "Do you think it's real?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just shook me head... "Oh April....."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We then made our way into Quincy Food Market and found four large cookies..... April got a double chocolate, (which seemed to keep her up all night...which in turn kept me up all night. She is such a gentle toss and turner...) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S88O6XworDI/AAAAAAAAAIg/lQt0qRdMCSk/s1600/IMG_9542.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462601268996910130" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S88O6XworDI/AAAAAAAAAIg/lQt0qRdMCSk/s200/IMG_9542.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Cookies are always a hit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got chocolate chip and walnut and the kids each got m&amp;amp;m cookies. We all enjoyed them thoroughly. After we finished our cookies we walked back, enjoying the wonderful weather we had yesterday. We made it back to the parking garage at about 7:30pm and we were all ready to go home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a good ride home, no traffic jams, which luckily we weren't going south...... Not so lucky there. It was a fun day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-949663489207957147?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/949663489207957147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=949663489207957147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/949663489207957147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/949663489207957147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2010/04/childrens-museum-dolly-parton-big-beers.html' title='Childrens Museum, Dolly Parton, Big...... Beers and Sexual Gum.....'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/S88Hl8axsRI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/wOWVQTouJQ0/s72-c/IMG_9487.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-2616718043292715799</id><published>2010-04-08T05:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-08T06:13:31.850-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='art'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='regrets'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Yahoo stock'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='changing high school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='writing'/><title type='text'>Hood Ornaments, New Kids On The Block Concert and Yahoo Stock...</title><content type='html'>So I just dropped Jorgie (my daughter) off at school and she'll be off to Boston tonight for a Museum Of Science sleep over. Ahhh to be young again. She's so very excited about the trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So on the ride back home from dropping her off at school, I found myself thinking..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah I know big surprise right, thinking.........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was contemplating what I might do differently if I had a chance to go back to high school having my thirty-seven years of wisdom with me.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well minus my baldness... no not boldness, baldness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what would I do differently?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well a few things ran through my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay let's see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't change the hood ornament incident. Yeah even the fact that we took the principals hood ornament either. I mean seriously........ how could we have managed to pick the principals car and then take her hood ornament. Gee why don't they put hood ornaments on cars anymore...... I wouldn't change the fact that we got caught and I was the one who had to ride around in the cruiser at 1:00am with the officer, to get all the addresses of whom we took their hood ornaments. So anyways, I wouldn't change what happened that night. No really, simply because it built character and oh heck, it gives me some writing material some day when I have writers block.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wouldn't change the New Kids on the Block Concert New Years Eve with April....... Yes you read it right.. NEW KIDS ON THE BLOCK.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was going to say that I would have purchased Yahoo stock when it went public, but that wasn't in my high school years, that was in April 1996......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, no more kidding around. Honestly, knowing what I know now about myself, I would have developed my Art and Writing skills.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny thing is, even if I did develop my Art and writing skills, I would probably still have the same amount of money as I do now. Not much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my question is, what would you do differently?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Post it on my Facebook status if you have any ideas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have any ideas for me... let me know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And no not my hair cuts, they &lt;em&gt;were&lt;/em&gt; cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, those are the Thoughts Of A George for today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-2616718043292715799?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/2616718043292715799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=2616718043292715799' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/2616718043292715799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/2616718043292715799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2010/04/hood-ornaments-new-kids-on-block.html' title='Hood Ornaments, New Kids On The Block Concert and Yahoo Stock...'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-6228987647922116431</id><published>2009-06-30T04:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T04:32:48.858-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not much to say today.............</title><content type='html'>Another rainy day.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, as if we need some more rain. Sunshine would be nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I woke up at 4:30 this morning and got some nonfiction writing done. I would so much rather be writing fiction, but right now it's what I have to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to Storyland last Friday. It was a fun day with lots of fun things to write about. I'll try and write about it in the next few days, but this morning I'm going with April to do a cleaning job. Fun, fun, fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are going camping on Wednesday..... so hopefully it won't rain too much. Notice how I say too much. It seems inevitable that it will rain at least once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well,&lt;br /&gt;Those are the Thoughts of a George for today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-6228987647922116431?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/6228987647922116431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=6228987647922116431' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/6228987647922116431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/6228987647922116431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/06/not-much-to-say-today.html' title='Not much to say today.............'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-5005068697640692546</id><published>2009-06-24T05:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-24T06:59:59.514-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Another Camper Adventure!</title><content type='html'>So I went to pick up the camper yesterday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could tell you that it's a beautiful camper, maybe an old Airstream, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Avion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; or something old style camper with charm, but I can't....nope... sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove an hour and a half, up to &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Tuftenborough&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; NH, and managed to pull into their driveway at about 11:30am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As soon as I pulled into the driveway, my stomach sank. It was overgrown, unmaintained and the strategically placed junk was kind of a tell tale sign. But I remained hopeful and drove forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left the kids in the truck and knocked on the door. The booming sound of dogs barking filled the air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I waited, then a lady answered the door with a twelve month old on her hip. "I'm here to pick up the camper." I said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked genuinely surprised, and that was my other tell tale sign. "Well....." she said putting her shoes on. "I'll have to walk you &lt;em&gt;out there&lt;/em&gt;." So she opened the gate and two large dogs tackled me. They were very nice dogs, just excited to see people I guess. So I grabbed the kids and held Marcus, knowing they would swarm all over him. They tackled &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jorgie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; with kisses, but she managed to stay standing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we walked back up the driveway and down a very overgrown road. The road was strew with old limbs about the size of my arm, sink holes, and old farm equipment pushed to the side. But despite all that, I still tried to remain hopeful. So we walked out into the field and there it was. It had been there so long, small pine tree saplings had grown around it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked at the tires, and they were very low. I shrugged my shoulders and said...... "I'll see what I can do." In George translation, it means I'll get this son of a bitch out of here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we walked back to the truck and loaded the kids in. We drove out there, I backed the truck up and unloaded my tools. The first thing was the tires. I unloaded my generator, my compressor, and tire iron. I started the generator, plugged the compressor in and started filling the tires with air. The first two were fine, they held air. I went to the other side..... and that was when I found that one of the tires was totally off the rim. I took a deep breath.....and then another deep breath..... and went back to the truck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By now the kids had retreated back to the safety of the truck. I asked them why? ..... that was when &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jorgie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; said she found a tick on her. I said "Oh......" and wondered if there were any on me. Oh well! I thought. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went back to the camper and decided to look inside it. Yeah.... that's right, I hadn't looked in it yet. I saw the lady look in it when she was out there, but she had shut the door quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I opened up the door and quickly realized why she had shut the door. There was a bat flying around inside... Yes a bat. So I shut the door quickly too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did manage to get a quick look at the inside. And guess what, despite the fact that the lady had said in the email that the camper was dry inside........ NO IT WASN'T:&lt;br /&gt;Here is a copy of the email she had sent me........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hi!&lt;br /&gt;No, we haven't gotten ride of it yet. I will send details later today - it doesn't leak, it needs some TLC - but was lived in while our house was built (in 1999). It's biggest problem is that it has been sitting unoccupied but really it's in good shape for a freebie. If you want to come get it - please do - you can give my husband a call today at 569-6016. His name is Nelson.&lt;br /&gt;Thanks,&lt;br /&gt;Jennifer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe..... just maybe they shouldn't have said any of that. They should really have said that it was a piece of junk and should be used for scrap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know... I know... it's free right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway about the tire. Despite three tires holding air, I still had one tire that was flatter than a root beer soda shaken not stirred. I walked around the back of the camper, took another deep breath and then there it was, right there fastened to the back bumper. It was a spare. A very attractive round looking piece of rubber. I never thought a tire could look so sexy. Trust me, you don't see too many spare tires on campers much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swapped the tire, threw the old one in the camper, and quickly shut the door. I don't know what I was thinking, I should have left it open so the bat could get out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hooked the camper up and managed to slowly tow it out of the field. I got on the driveway, and checked the lights. Only one of the tail lights worked, but that was sufficient enough for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got in the truck and then found a tick on my neck that hadn't started snacking on me yet. I squished him and then started on our way. Me. the kids, and a large hunk of junk on wheels, and a lonely old bat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We made it home in one piece, no flats, no things falling of the camper and we all survived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had that happen...... once I hit a large bump and off went a back storage door. Luckily it slid off and didn't hit any cars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now it sits in the driveway waiting for me. The ceiling is falling in from leaks, the floor is soft from leaks and it is infested with hornets. Awesome!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, last night when I was doing dishes I found a second tick on me and yes, he was happily having me for dinner. At least until I plucked him out and squished him. Oh, and you know what kind of camper it is. It's a Twilight camper. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jorgie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; pointed that out and said that was why there was a bat in it, you know like the Vampire movie... Twilight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny isn't it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, there it sits in the driveway. Ill be able to salvage some stuff from it, like the old propane fridge and the furnace. Besides that, I have no idea what I am doing with it. Maybe I can use it as a planter.... oh wait no we aren't in Maine.... That's right. Sorry I couldn't help myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We shall see. Well that's it for today. Those are the Thoughts of a George,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-5005068697640692546?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/5005068697640692546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=5005068697640692546' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5005068697640692546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5005068697640692546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/06/just-another-camper-adventure.html' title='Just Another Camper Adventure!'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-3944560472994774614</id><published>2009-06-23T04:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T04:21:52.708-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Camper Run! Camper Fun?</title><content type='html'>I got up at 5:05 this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got some good time working on my nonfiction project. Gained some ground which is always good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today I'm off to pick up a camper. Yeah...... another camper. It's up in the Alton area, so it is a bit of a drive. I'm going up there not knowing what this camper looks like, which could turn out to be a major mistake, but we shall see. I talked to the guy that has it, and he told me it has been sitting in the field for ten years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh..... Boy. How do I get myself into these situations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, he said that I would need a 4x4 to get it out of the field. I hope my &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;driving&lt;/span&gt; skills are up to par. This just make for good reading.... let's hope not. Hopefully I come back without a word to say about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we'll see. Hopefully the tires have air, or at least hold air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is a quick entry as I am off top load up the truck.  Oh yeah.... the kids are coming too. That will make for a &lt;em&gt;fun&lt;/em&gt; challenge....... Man I love challenges.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I told &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jorgie&lt;/span&gt; that we were going on a camper run..... "Oh, boy." She said quite unenthusiastically.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We will see what happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well those are The Thoughts of a George,&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-3944560472994774614?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/3944560472994774614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=3944560472994774614' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3944560472994774614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3944560472994774614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/06/camper-run-camper-fun.html' title='Camper Run! Camper Fun?'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-4223612041509920907</id><published>2009-06-19T03:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T04:38:47.983-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Profit Margins on Junk</title><content type='html'>I woke up at about 4:30 this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was good, and it helped that I went to bed early last night. Worked on my nonfiction this morning and made some progress with that, so that makes me happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got a lead on another free camper. I'm going to call the guy today, so hopefully I can get another hunk of aluminum to decorate our driveway. That will make everyone happy! Plus it will add another project to my to do list. Just what I needed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have the other camper out for sale now...... finally....but no bites yet. It's been out there since last Friday, so maybe in another week I'll do a price markdown. This is the kids tree house money, so I can't go too low. After all, I did purchase this one so I have to pay attention to my profit margin. Listen to me! I'm talking profit margins on junk campers, oh boy.... what has my world come to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did have a guy come to the door and offer to tar a portion of my driveway for the camper. He was young, thin built, wearing a orange safety vest and a large &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;salesman's&lt;/span&gt; smile. His disheveled hair was pushed up one side as if he had just woke up and threw some clothes on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We're gonna have extra tar after our job down the street today. I can tar your drive way, REALLY cheap."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I would love to, but I don't have the money."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again he repeated that he could tar my driveway real.... cheap....... "Sorry, I just don't have the money."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How about for the camper? I can do the edge of your driveway for the camper?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No, I really need the money." I said. (tree house money... can't build a tree house out of tar!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, okay." He turned and was walking away, then stopped..... "I'll stop back later. I really want to buy the camper."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I nodded and replied. "Okay." I didn't hold my breathe though....... good thing, he never came back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, those are the Thoughts of a George&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until Tuesday......... Yuck work!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-4223612041509920907?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/4223612041509920907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=4223612041509920907' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4223612041509920907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4223612041509920907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/06/profit-margins-on-junk-and-tar.html' title='Profit Margins on Junk'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-1459474109698710297</id><published>2009-06-18T03:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T04:52:55.113-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My office and a Floating mind</title><content type='html'>I woke up around 5:15 this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not a bad writing morning. I did manage to get some nonfiction work done, which is pretty good &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;especially&lt;/span&gt; after my relapse yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sitting here staring at the monitor, with no ideas. My mind seems to be just floating around, mostly trying to latch onto the things I have to to today. Looking out the window to my right, I see that it's cloudy and gloomy again and I wish it wasn't. From the window I see the large oak tree that sprawls its limbs out over the side yard and reaches to the sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back inside again, my desk sits flush against the wall, flat on top and cluttered. (according to my terms of clutter anyway) The space is occupied by my flat screen monitor, two speakers, two &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;cd's&lt;/span&gt; in reference to my nonfiction project, two character profiles for Vines of W&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;isteria&lt;/span&gt;, an empty glass of water and coffee cup. Next to my monitor my satchel of thinking rocks lay and a photo holder that holds a vocabulary card sits on the other side. Sophisticated is the word of the day. I try and put a new word on it every day. That doesn't always happen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Around my office I have piles of projects,(most of them sitting on my drawing desk) made up of books, papers, drawings, notes, etc..... Each pile sits patiently, waiting for my attention. My nonfiction project in one, drawings in another, garden book that needs to be read, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;children's&lt;/span&gt; notebook for my &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;children's&lt;/span&gt; book ideas, and a movie waiting to be copied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The movie sits on my electronics shelf, occupied by my laser printer, bubble jet printer,(which is currently out of ink), DVD player which runs into my computer, DVD recorder which doesn't work  since my Vista &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;installation&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh........the magical sound of sibling &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;rivalry&lt;/span&gt;... That's always fun to hear this early in the morning. According to &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jorgie&lt;/span&gt;, Marcus didn't wash his hands after going pee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay where was I. Oh ..... behind my left shoulder sits a four foot tall file cabinet. Full of stuff of course, waiting for my attention. I have four book shelves, all full of nonfiction books and fiction books. I try not to look at them, because when I do, I am reminded of all the things I want to do, projects I find interesting, and ideas that are sitting idle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm cursed though........ there are so many cool things to do in this world and so little time. Most of the things I find &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;intriguing&lt;/span&gt; are tied to the arts in some way. Even when I was a kid, I was always &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;attracted&lt;/span&gt; to art in some way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember in high school I made this figure from forming tin foil around my face and arms, then I taped it to the wall to look like it was coming through it. It was pretty cool, although very &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;primitive&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, now I hear April reprimanding the kids. That's a fun sound too. I can only blast Joshua Bell, and try to ignore it for so long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, those are the Thoughts of a George for today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-1459474109698710297?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/1459474109698710297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=1459474109698710297' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/1459474109698710297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/1459474109698710297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-office-and-floating-mind.html' title='My office and a Floating mind'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-1733926006323312647</id><published>2009-06-17T04:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T04:55:38.924-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Insatiable Addictions, Potty Talk and Charity?</title><content type='html'>So.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't hold out any longer. I had to do it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it was only just a little, and besides it didn't hurt anybody. I mean seriously.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to fill the void, satisfy the addiction, loose the shakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was starting to feel the withdrawal symptoms. The edginess, irritability, and that insatiable craving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was only just a little...... a few words....maybe two paragraphs. It won't happen again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, maybe it will. Let's call it my fiction addiction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It felt SO good! Yeah it was only a few paragraphs, but........ it was good to go there. I traveled to Wisteria, a magical world created for Angelina and Connor. Two young characters struggling against amazing odds to save Angelina's world, and not fall in love.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your probably rolling your eyes by now. Probably saying...."OK, George....... I think you're exaggerating."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only a little on the shakes part, but I was getting irritable and edgy. I really can't explain why. Even if I knew for a fact that I would never get published.........Which I will darn it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay........ where was I. Oh yeah, even if I knew I would never get published, I would still have to write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And no, I'm not crazy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, now that's out of the way I can talk potty talk.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No not the trashy kind, although according to April I am quite good at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fixed my parents toilet yesterday, see and you thought I was going to talk trashy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I have been dreading it all week, worried that my Dad would be difficult. He &lt;em&gt;can&lt;/em&gt; be sometimes, but yesterday went pretty well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to cut one of the bolts off the toilet base to remove it, but it came off easier than I thought. I pulled it out, put the wax ring on the new toilet, and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;bam&lt;/span&gt;! It was done. Not really that quickly, but it went smooth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only had to purchase a new shut off vale and sweat it on the pipes. No I didn't talk dirty to the pipe to make it sweat either. Sweating a pipe is when you heat it up and solder the pipe onto the copper piping.&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I heard you yawning.... Sorry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway it felt good helping them out, especially since my dad's in the wheel chair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I have to run &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Jorgie&lt;/span&gt; to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those are the thoughts of a George,&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-1733926006323312647?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/1733926006323312647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=1733926006323312647' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/1733926006323312647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/1733926006323312647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/06/insatiable-addictions-potty-talk-and.html' title='Insatiable Addictions, Potty Talk and Charity?'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-4087695265364486612</id><published>2009-06-16T03:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T04:50:38.655-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Girl Scouts, Cake, and Tao Te Ching</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I got up at a decent time this morning, about 4:55am. Not too bad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I managed to squeeze in a decent amount of work on some nonfiction. Not a bad morning, but also not an overly productive morning either. Most of the time was spent reacquainting myself with the project.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wanted to write in my blog on Friday, but one thing led to another and I didn't get around to it. It was mostly due to making a cake for Jorgies Girl Scouts. I wanted to get the cake done early so I could get some things done around the house. The cake came out pretty good, and everyone liked it. That's always a good thing. I can't imagine making a cake and someone not liking it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's a picture of the cake:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 217px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347879390667217778" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/Sjd7-LZaG3I/AAAAAAAAAFk/-8T1gifhxPs/s320/girlscoutcake.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I've been reading a good eye opener book. I just started reading it and it makes you think differently about life. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The book is:  Change Your Thoughts - Change Your Life By: Dr. Wayne Dyer&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I have always been a fan of Dr. Dyer and he has been a great source of positive thinking and motivation for me. For his new book, Dr. Dyer took a year to read and research the famous Tao Te Ching, a famous 3000 year old book of wisdom. He takes each verse and translates it into how we can apply these teaching to our own lives. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This book is very peaceful, contemplative and even though I am only on the 7th verse, would recommend this book. This book isn't for everyone, and I think you have to be in a certain place in your life to accept some of the things the Tao Te Ching suggests, but that goes for a lot of things. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;That goes for eating a candy bar for that matter.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Well, the kids are flocking in the office so my thoughts are a little bedazzled. Those aer the Thoughts Of A George for today,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Until tomorrow,&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-4087695265364486612?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/4087695265364486612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=4087695265364486612' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4087695265364486612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4087695265364486612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/06/girl-scouts-cake-and-tao-te-ching.html' title='Girl Scouts, Cake, and Tao Te Ching'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/Sjd7-LZaG3I/AAAAAAAAAFk/-8T1gifhxPs/s72-c/girlscoutcake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-7029327598334621570</id><published>2009-06-11T04:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T04:39:53.599-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Watching Movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Netflix'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Reed Hastings'/><title type='text'>Watching Movies and $50 Million Dollars a month</title><content type='html'>I woke up late this morning. We stayed up late last night night watching a movie, so no writing time this morning.  Well, besides my blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so tough when you have kids sometimes. By the time you get them to bed and finally sit down to take a deep breathe.........  it's 9:30pm!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah let's watch a two hour movie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we did. We have had it from Netflix for over a week, maybe even two. We used to hurry up and watch it to send it back, but now we've become &lt;em&gt;those&lt;/em&gt; people that Netflix actually makes money off of.  You know, the kind that keeps it for weeks at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what amazes me. I bet when Reed Hastings thought up of Netflix, almost everyone told him that it would NEVER work. If you think about it, I bet I could come up with tons of reasons why it wouldn't work. Tons of reasons why he should have gotten discouraged and given up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he didn't. He didn't give up. What if he had. What if he threw up his hands in the air and said.......... "Yeah you guys are right. It's a stupid idea. The people probably won't send the movies back, they will get broken in the mail.....blah...blah..blah!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you know that since the economy has tanked, Netflix has prospered. Yeah seriously. What if the idea was squashed. What if Mr. Reed Hastings convinced himself it would never work. According to a CBS article in 2006, Netflix was raking in $50 million a month in subscription fees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me say that again. $50 million &lt;strong&gt;a month!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if any of you have a dream, stick to it. Whether it is writing, opening a business, or just an invention idea, don't let the critics discourage you. Or even worse, don't discourage yourself. That is the ultimate crime, sabotage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay positive, stay focused and KEEP MOVING FORWARD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, well Those are the Thought of a George,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-7029327598334621570?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/7029327598334621570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=7029327598334621570' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/7029327598334621570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/7029327598334621570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/06/watching-movies-and-50-million-dollars.html' title='Watching Movies and $50 Million Dollars a month'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-6110599844960140084</id><published>2009-06-10T05:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T06:14:34.718-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school project'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whale'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Paper mache'/><title type='text'>Big Blue Whale and Our Trip to School</title><content type='html'>Despite getting up late this morning, I managed to get some writing done. That's always good, but still not enough. But I can accept that........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no other choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I brought Jorgie to school this morning..........with a whale. Yeah, really a whale!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay let me back it up a few weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three weeks ago Jorgie said she was doing a book report, after much deliberation she finally chose a book on whales and dolphins. Those are hard decisions for an eight year old girl. Actually she'll be nine next month, as I am sure she would dutifully point out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, she said to me. "That would be cool if I could make a model of a whale."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That little infamous light bulb went on above my head.  Sometimes that little light bulb gets me in trouble. So I told her that I have an idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ideas get me in trouble too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I told her that we can make a whale out of paper mache. I told her that I remember we did a project with paper mache in school and we used chicken wire and then paper mache on the outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it was off to the store. We got a roll of chicken wire and then we were ready. Jorgie had a lot of questions about how it would look. She worries sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we made a large chicken wire frame of a whale, and a dolphin, and Jorgie made one of a manatee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We cut newspaper up into long strips, mixed 3 1/2 cups of flour with 5 cups of water, stirred and stirred and finally got down to the business of getting really messy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Messy is an understatement. It drips everywhere, and the kitchen floor was a skating rink of flour and water. Not to mention what we looked like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh as an added note, the whale was about as tall as me, and pretty hard to handle. Not that I'm hard to handle..... well, don't ask April. She might say I am... a little....maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when we got the top of the whale done, I confidently lifted it up to see if I we could get the bottom done before letting it dry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BIG MISTAKE! I lifted the whale up by it's tail and the whole top layer of paper mache slid off and splattered onto the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's when the storm of curses hit. After a few deep breaths........ a few many deep breaths, we started again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After finishing, we let it dry a few days, then we tackled the task again. Jorgie was very patient with me.... Thanks Jorgie.  This time I put plastic down. A little better, still messy though. We got the second layer on and it was finally taking shape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We let it dry again, then I hung it out in the other room. I put the last layer on while Jorgie was in school, because we were running out of time. The project was already late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We painted it outside with spray paint, and it actually came out pretty good. It's very large, and Jorgie kept saying. "Maybe we should carry it in a bag."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sorry sweetie, it won't fit."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we went to school. Me carrying a six foot blue whale with a three foot tail under my arm, Jorgie carrying a two foot dolphin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked into class! "Wow..... what's that!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All attention went from whatever the teacher was talking about to the big fat blue whale under my arm. I bet she loved that. Sorry Mrs. Powers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway that's the story of the Big Blue Whale, and Those are the Thoughts of a George.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow,&lt;br /&gt;George&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-6110599844960140084?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/6110599844960140084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=6110599844960140084' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/6110599844960140084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/6110599844960140084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/06/big-blue-whale-and-our-trip-to-school.html' title='Big Blue Whale and Our Trip to School'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-5476142386149147234</id><published>2009-06-09T03:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T04:52:30.102-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Missiles, Death and Happiness........</title><content type='html'>I was able to get a good solid forty-five minutes of writing done this morning. Actually it was more like planning time than writing time, but it was productive and that's good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like productive days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I don't plan before I set about writing something, I flounder along and my writing suffers. I also get discouraged easier. It's like taking a trip to California without a map.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I do is head west........right? I guess that could work, but there would be quite a few detours on the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now I feel that there is much to do and so little time. I have so many things I want to work on, but so few hours in the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then again I also want to enjoy life, because you know what, we are very lucky to be alive. We only get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ninety&lt;/span&gt; or so years if we're lucky. Why do we blow it on foolish stuff sometimes. Ninety years isn't really that long when you think about it.........and I think about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What amazes me, is that I have already been here for thirty six years and it has gone by so fast. My daughter is going to be nine years old and my son will be four ......... and my god I only blinked for a moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently I have been trying to concentrate on things that make me happy. I have been trying to enjoy the little things. I have been trying to get less irritated at those pesky little things that I shouldn't get irritated over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little things like the clothes dryer not working......... okay that isn't a little thing, but my point is, my life could end tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Please&lt;/span&gt; don't runaway scared. I'm not trying to be depressing. Life as we know it can change in an instant. With tensions getting worse with North Korea, what if we went to war. What if they did launch nuclear &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;missiles&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would the dryer not working be so important anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try to ask myself &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;those&lt;/span&gt; question. What would I say in my last few moments before I was to leave this earth. Okay, that was the nice way to put it. What would I say before I died.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would I say, "Boy I really wish I made enough money to get a new car." or "Man I should have gone for supervisor at work."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hell No! I would I say....... "I wish I spent more time with the kids. I wish I told everyone I loved them. I wish I spent more time on things that really mattered to me. Writing, drawing, family. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that's the hard part. Trying to filter out the things that matter the most instead of the things that don't. Sometimes I think that we as a society base our priorities on external, rather than internal importance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We care about what everyone else thinks of us and tend to ignore what is really important...... What we think of ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just as guilty as everyone else, but I am working on it and that makes me happy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is one thing you might say just before you die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it's very scary going there, but do it for just a moment. Not for me, for yourself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I really wish I....................."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now take a few minutes today and do it. I'm going to. After I write this, I'm going out to hug, kiss and tell everyone I love them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those are The Deep Thoughts of a George,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-5476142386149147234?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/5476142386149147234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=5476142386149147234' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5476142386149147234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5476142386149147234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/06/missiles-death-and-happiness.html' title='Missiles, Death and Happiness........'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-4070111239986521757</id><published>2009-06-05T03:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T04:18:38.271-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='creativity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='writing time'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='writing'/><title type='text'>My mind, Mini Ecosystems, and Writing</title><content type='html'>Worked on my nonfiction piece today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss writing fiction. It's so much more imaginative and less constricting when you can disappear into your own vision. A world created through imagination and not bound by rules of reality.&lt;br /&gt;But writing is writing, and that's what matters. I believe in what I'm writing, which does help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's hard due to the fact that I have so many ideas that echo around in my otherwise empty head, but not enough time to get them down on paper. (the electronic kind anyway).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From children's stories to stories of love, they all fight for precious page time. In a way it's similar to how nature handles these situations. Natural selection one might call it. It comes down to survival of the fittest, like a real live mini ecosystem in my head. The strongest or most fruitful wins. If any of them are wounded or crippled, they may just perish. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the toughest part of writing is managing the time. Between chores, family responsibilities, work, useless searches on Google, Craigslist, more useless searches on Google, fixing campers, on and on and on........ writing time is sometimes tough to squeeze in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I can do it because I know that's one of the things that separates the real writers, from the dreamers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dedication to the art.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well taht's it........ it's back to real work tomorrow. The kind where you punch in and out with an electronic time card. Those are the Thoughts of a George for today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until Tuesday.........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-4070111239986521757?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/4070111239986521757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=4070111239986521757' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4070111239986521757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4070111239986521757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-mind-mini-ecosystems-and-writing.html' title='My mind, Mini Ecosystems, and Writing'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-3084722081442487310</id><published>2009-06-04T04:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T04:25:58.008-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Green Thumbs, Arch Rivals, and Free lunch</title><content type='html'>The snooze button is an arch rival of mine!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kept pressing that damn button this morning and ended up getting up late.  Late for me anyway. It was 5:30 by the time I rolled out of bed and stumbled down stairs. My cat actually came up to get me out of bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought that was funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I got up late I didn't get to work on my nonfiction much this morning. Wrote a few ideas down, but that was all. I think I'll try to work on it during the day, but the problem with that is I get so distracted with all the other things i have to do. There are so many.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And even though my plate is full, I manage to pile more and more on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tilled a small portion of our backyard for a garden on Tuesday. We just have to fertilize it and plant some plants in it. Oh, and fence it in. I'm afraid if we don't we'll get some furry creatures looking for a free lunch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone one loves a free lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope it does well. I guess we will see how green our thumbs are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to finish the camper too. It's almost done, just have to do a couple more things to it and then put it out for sale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah. I have to start the kids tree house too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to think that I feel that I can fit some writing in today. Oh boy, I'm in a fantasy world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, those are the Thoughts Of A George for today.&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-3084722081442487310?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/3084722081442487310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=3084722081442487310' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3084722081442487310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3084722081442487310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/06/green-thumbs-arch-rivals-and-free-lunch.html' title='Green Thumbs, Arch Rivals, and Free lunch'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-257208464363929629</id><published>2009-06-03T03:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T04:31:30.884-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Writers convference'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Melissa Hill Zac Petit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alice Pope'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BEA Conference'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Writers Digest Editors'/><title type='text'>Lunch with Three Writers Digest Editors in New York (part 2 of 2)</title><content type='html'>Okay.......Where was I? Oh yeah we were walking into the lunch room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michelle and I probably looked like a couple of starving nomads in search of sustenance....okay it wasn't that bad. But we still couldn't find any open seats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned to a man who looked in charge, and asked where we should sit.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To our relief, he directed us to a table occupied only by one person. We strolled up, introduced ourselves and sat down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lunch consisted of three generous plates of turkey sandwiches, a heaping basket of fruit, another basket of assorted chips, soda's and even a plate of cookies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It only took a few moments for me to fill my plate, and then a few moments more to be GLADLY EATING.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The three of us chatted while we ate, exchanging what our stories were about, (he had written a thriller) then after a few minutes, we were joined by another writer. Our fourth guest was a smaller man with glasses, untidy hair, and rather cynical smile. We exchanged writing preferences, and he stated he wrote educational poetry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really? What's educational poetry again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was about to ask him, when four others joined the table. They weren't introduced, but I noticed one of them looked very familiar. Then the little guy with glasses asked a question to the lady sitting next to me. Alice.... he had addressed her by name. By the dialogue between the two, I could tell they didn't know each other. He had asked something about Twitter and Facebook, and was an obvious ploy just to talk to her. She politely answered and the conversation was over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She made a comment about the sandwiches, something about them being turkey I think. I had said something about the fact that I was starving and it was perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then out of nowhere from my right, a banquet worker handed Alice a specially made sandwich. That was when I realized I was probably sitting next to someone with a little stature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I realized she had made the comment about the turkey, due to the fact that she was.........a vegetarian, I think. I found that out after watching her dissect her grilled eggplant sandwich on the plate next to me. Yeah that was instead of listening to the lunch speaker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did listen to the speaker, but Sarah Nelson took a cynical and slightly depressing angle on the book publishing industry. Not a very motivational speech to say the least, but probably partly due to the fact that she had been laid off from Publishers Weekly a few months prior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Switching of from watching Alice dissect her sandwich, to spying at the name tag affixed to her lapel, I managed to find out her name was Alice Pope. It sounded familiar, but couldn't place it yet. (Sorry Alice) So I kept glancing over, all the while hoping she wouldn't catch me looking and think I was looking down her shirt........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I managed to read the word editor on her name tag, but that was all. I thought that was cool, George the writer sitting next to an editor, a real live editor! I'm proud of myself for not asking for an autograph and then shouting out to the room......I'm never washing this hand.....ever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah I know, writers are a strange breed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She left the table, so I had resort to listening to the speech again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later I was informed that she was an editor at Writers Digest. Wow, even cooler. The whole time she was next to me I thought about trying to strike up a conversation, but decided against it. I figured she would rather dissect her sandwich in peace. Besides, I didn't want to sound like the little guy in glasses with the silly question about Twitter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come to find out, after looking at the conference pictures online, we were all in the company of two other writers digest editors as well. Zac Petit, and Melissa Hill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/EditorFriedman/BEAWDConference2009?feat=directlink#5342463990481653794"&gt;http://picasaweb.google.com/EditorFriedman/BEAWDConference2009?feat=directlink#5342463990481653794&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I can say that I had lunch with &lt;em&gt;three&lt;/em&gt; editors from writers digest....... It's too bad I couldn't manage to mumble anything intelligent to any of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after the depressing speech, a text to April (my wife), and a cookie, they gave away door prizes. The editors had left the table already so it was just Michelle, myself and the two other writers. They read off names for each prize, and each time someone won it just happened to be a woman. I didn't even notice or even care until the little guy in glasses kept making a comments about how come no guys were winning anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to say... are you serious.........&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;your poetry must be really fun to read&lt;em&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last prize was for three people to win a years subscription to Writers Digest magazine. I was shocked when my name was drawn. I smiled as I walked up to get the card.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after lunch was over, we went to the last breakout session. This one was was informative for me because it was with Anthony Flacco and his agent Sharlene Martin. They didn't turn it into a book pitch but more of just general information about publishing nonfiction. They opened it up to questions, which was really nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the breakout session ended, it was almost time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The moment was almost upon us all. A writers moment of truth. Three minutes to pitch our books to prospective agents. We all had to exit the rooms, regroup and stand in line. Some lines were longer than others, but the line I chose was long. The room had four agents I wanted to see. Of course Donald Maass was in that room, and of course a lot of people wanted to pitch to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big time agent! He wasn't on my list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first pitch went to Michael Larsen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat down, introduced myself and he said :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tell me what it's about."&lt;br /&gt;"Don't you want me to read my pitch?" I asked him.&lt;br /&gt;"No." He said. "Just tell me about it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I told him the title and explained what I wanted to do with it. He was interested, and then he asked if it was written yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said no. I explained that I thought it was better if a nonfiction book was proposed first. He told me that in my case with the book I'm writing, it would be better written first. He gave me some great ideas and advice, and besides slurping (very loudly) the bottom of his iced latte from Starbucks while explaining my story, he seemed to be a very genuine, approachable guy. He would be someone I would like to represent my work. (when it's done)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next I pitched Stacia Decker:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked different than in the pictures I found on line of her, and as I approached her saw that she sported a close trimmed hair cut that looked very professional and attractive. (sorry that shouldn't have slipped in here)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sat down, I introduced myself and she asked me to explain my story. I asked if she wanted me to read my pitch and she said .......no, just tell me about it. So I did. She made good eye contact, and listened to what my story was about. She asked me a few general questions and seemed genuinely interested. She told me to query her at the agency. That made me happy. She did have the same advice as Michael Larsen did, about it being a finished work. So I will wait to query until it is finished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next was to Michael Bourret:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't wait in line too long, and was chatting with someone else the whole time. When it was my time to go up, I sat down and introduced myself. Michael seemed to be having a hard time concentrating on me. His eyes kept shifting to what was going on around the room. It wasn't until I made him laugh did I hold his attention for a few seconds. Even then, he still seemed somewhere else. He told me to query him because some of my ideas made him laugh, but I don't think I would query him. Nothing against him, I just didn't get a good feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next was Meg Leder, a penguin publishing editor:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, I didn't wait too long in line and was chatting with someone so it went quick. I introduced myself again, and explained my story. Now Meg held the best eye contact out of all the people I talked to. She really did a phenomenal job at making me feel listened to. She also had great advice, and said it should be completed first and would be wise to get some publishing credits for my work. She spoke with sincerity, and said it would be best to get an agent first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was nice to see these people as real live people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By then, I had some great advice and was ready to get going on my project. I met up with Michelle and told her how it went. She was happy to tell me she had some requests for her manuscript, which is awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were done for the day and ready to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did our three minute walk back to the car. I wanted to go out and walk the city, but I knew I had to start home so not to get back to New Hampshire too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove back to Michelle's, ordered pizza, and had a few slices before the trip home. She made me a cup of some strong coffee and I was off to New Hampshire by 6:30pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I called April as soon as I was on the highway, and we chatted for a while as I drove up highway 87. I have an earpiece, I can't stand holding the phone that long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, as I was talking away to her, I saw the exit I was supposed to take pass me by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a few curses......okay, okay, a lot of curses, I complained about the signage or rather lack of it. It was the same spot I missed coming down. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the driver, or the fact the driver was talking on the phone. NO WAY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So April got off the phone to finish cleaning up dinner and I got off the phone to finish cursing. I glanced at the map and saw I could take a different route So I said what the heck, why not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I set my MP3 player to play Mat Kearney and drove, drove ...........and drove. I didn't get tired till about 9:30pm . It was foggy out as I was going through the mountains in Vermont. That made it for a long drive, a curvy foggy road. Oh boy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I nursed the rest of my cold coffee in the cup and blasted the radio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After propping my eyelids open with a bunch of candy, I finally stumbled through my front door at about 11:30pm and was very happy to be home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to do it again. It was fun, exhilarating and helped me feel like a real writer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I just have to get published.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those are the Thoughts of a George,&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-257208464363929629?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/257208464363929629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=257208464363929629' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/257208464363929629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/257208464363929629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/06/lunch-with-three-writers-digest-editors.html' title='Lunch with Three Writers Digest Editors in New York (part 2 of 2)'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-4736063819632682697</id><published>2009-06-02T02:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T04:32:07.888-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My New York Trip and Prison (part 1 of 2)</title><content type='html'>So I went to New York last week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah that's right, the Big Apple. Well, here's the play by play on how it went down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I left my driveway Tuesday afternoon at about 1:30pm, right on time, which is a surprise for me because I had spent all morning running a little behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Between last minute changes on my book pitch, printing out the agent profiles, and making sure I had a second pair of underwear in my duffel bag, it was a frantic morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With my tires rolling over the open road and a gargantuan ice coffee by my side, it felt good to be on my way to the city that never sleeps. Actually on a side note, I was really heading for New Jersey, but my sister technically lives ten minutes from New York.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me a total of about six uneventful hours. I set my MP3 player to play Mat Kearney's new album, (City of Black And White) and just drove and drove and..............drove.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kept switching off from listening to the album, to practicing my pitch for a little while, and then back to the album again. I had no idea that I wouldn't get past the first two lines of my pitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was all highway driving and nothing really happened. I missed one exit, cursed four or five times, turned around, and was back on track in about ten minutes later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do remember passing a town called Beacon NY. Rolling hills, green grass and miles and miles of barbed wire. Yeah, that's right, barbed wire. Highway 84 passed through a sprawling prison compound that seemed to stretched on forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ironic part, out there above my head while sailing down the highway, were five hawks coasting along on windy currents. They were in perfect view of the prisons main building. The birds, an iconic symbol of freedom seemed to be taunting the prisoners. I wonder if the inmates noticed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm.... perfect idea for a character.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So........ I arrived at my sisters apartment at about 7:15pm. My brother in law directed me where to park, helped me with my bags and then they fed me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank the heavens, because I was starving!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a very hospitable stay, I was off to bed by 11:00pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The alarm on my phone went off at 5:30am and I was up. I spent the next half hour going over some of the agent bios and rehearsing my pitch, which in hindsight didn't matter. I took a shower at 6:00, then sat down and drank some coffee. My sister joined me for a few minutes, then we left for the Big City at about 7:15.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ran into some traffic. Oh my god....traffic in New York! After maneuvering through the congestion, we stumbled upon an inexpensive parking garage less than a block from the Javits Center. A three minute walk and we were there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked in the front doors of the center and............well.....we couldn't find the writers conference. Now you have to understand, the Javits center is a massive glass structure four levels high, spanning four blocks, and sporting over 700,000 square feet of space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So.... it's a little big.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a few puzzled looks between my sister and I, we found two security guards eating breakfast (of all things). We asked them where the conference was and after a few puzzled looks themselves, they kindly pointed us in the direction they &lt;em&gt;thought &lt;/em&gt;might be the right way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we headed down the steps to the Book Expo check in area. Now the book expo is the main event, the writers conference.....not so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They printed out a badge for my sister and I and then directed us where to go. Yeah.... we were officially part of the conference. It was now about 8:15am and the keynote address was going to start in fifteen minutes. Michelle (my sister) asked if we should get something to eat or scope out the seating. Of course, me being Mr. Prepared, I said let's scope out the seating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we found where we were supposed to go and ..........we were greeted by another line. Man I thought I was at the DMV or something. After taking a look at most of the other people in line, only a few people had the printed out name tags.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I took it upon myself to walk to the front of the line and ask. I was greeted by a very frazzled man, and after a few side glances, he finally settled his eyes on me and informed me that the line was only to get a program and a lick and stick name tag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked back and informed all the people with the printed tags that they didn't need to wait in line. After some sighs of relief, we all walked into the main room. Michelle and I found a seat and realized it was only a few minutes till the speech.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that meant no breakfast yet. Luckily, just outside the room was free coffee. I went out and got some. When I came back in, I nursed my coffee and watched the people around me. Much to my surprise, some of the people were going through the agent list in the program and circling possible targets. Wow, and I thought I wasn't prepared enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karin Slaughter came out and gave a very humorous speech. It was direct, informative, and far from candy coated. She kindly explained that the writing business is tough, and despite the romanticized view of it, it was a business. Publishers publish books to make money. Plain and simple. She explained how an advance worked, which in my opinion if you didn't know that already you shouldn't have been there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was very satisfied with the speech and when it was over, NO BREAKFAST! It was 9:30 and we went right into the first breakout sessions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't explain each session. I learned some things from each of them, which made it worth it. Even though they weren't classes at all like I had expected. They were more like marketing ploys to sell books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, I have to remember that publishing is a business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So by 11:30 I was starving and only running on residual caffeine. I found Michelle and we went into the lunch room. They had about fifty round tables set up, with about eight chairs circling them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then to our horror, all the tables in view were full.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mind was kind of numb to it, but my stomach wasn't......it was ready for a full armored revolt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we.............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, I have to call it quits for the day. Those the Partial Thoughts of a George for today. Come back tomorrow, I'll finish........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-4736063819632682697?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/4736063819632682697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=4736063819632682697' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4736063819632682697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4736063819632682697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-trip-to-new-york-and-prison.html' title='My New York Trip and Prison (part 1 of 2)'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-4853008751633208590</id><published>2009-05-21T04:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T04:37:25.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Agents, Agents, Agents!</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 5:35&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah I woke up late this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew what my morning task was and knew it wouldn't be much fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I managed to get BEA/Writers conference agent list down to twenty. Now my daunting task is to look them up online and judge them using their picture and any other relative articles I can find.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of them has a book written on How to write a book proposal. It looks like a good read too,  although I won't be able to read it before the pitch. Will he ask if I read it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It takes a while to do the research. I have managed to research maybe only five, and making an actual decision on a measly two. One Yes and one No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh boy......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I still am working on my pitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Awesome!&lt;br /&gt;Yeah...... that's a sarcastic shout out.&lt;br /&gt;Well those are the thoughts of a George,&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-4853008751633208590?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/4853008751633208590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=4853008751633208590' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4853008751633208590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4853008751633208590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/05/agents-agents-agents.html' title='Agents, Agents, Agents!'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-3451900021331111913</id><published>2009-05-20T03:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-20T04:28:21.416-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Laughing, Treasures, and .........Oh I forgot!</title><content type='html'>Wake up: 5:05&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't want to get up this morning. I guess that's what happens when you go to bed at 11:15pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yuck!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I worked on my non fiction pitch this morning. I changed the beginning again. I think its a change for the better. At least until I read it to someone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jorgie and I thought of a cute little children's story last night when I was tucking her in bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; So........ knowing my memory is limited, I immediately went into my office and wrote it down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a little magic book that I write down my ideas in. Anything from children's stories, books ideas, and any other crazy thoughts that might pop in my head. Because who knows how long it will stay. It may only be there for a cup of tea and then disappear forever. Or maybe it's like one of those relatives that come and stay for a few days, but never seem to leave. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a small journal, about half the size of a paperback, and it fits nicely in my hand. When I hold it in my palm, it feels like I am holding a spell book. A treasure of ideas that could change the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, okay... that's a stretch. At least it might make a child laugh. That's magic though, isn't it. A child laughing is a magic we all seem to forget exists. Because sometimes as adults, we forget to laugh, especially at ourselves. We forget about the lighter side of life, and the joy that can be experienced everyday. A joy that should not be forgotten. A wonder that, when I get a glimpse of, makes me realize how great life can be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow..... okay that was deep!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing the ideas that we all forget about. That's exactly why I write them down. I actually have quite a few children's book ideas in there. It's amazing how many ideas I have written in that little book. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A treasure of secrets. Yeah, it's like a little treasure box.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's it for today. I have to go help Jorgie get ready for school.&lt;br /&gt;Those are the thoughts of a George,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-3451900021331111913?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/3451900021331111913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=3451900021331111913' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3451900021331111913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3451900021331111913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/05/laughing-treasures-and-oh-i-forgot.html' title='Laughing, Treasures, and .........Oh I forgot!'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-5417617885666053970</id><published>2009-05-19T03:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T05:38:07.870-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A writer's loss for words, Actions Fingers, and a Dinosaur?</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 5:20&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I worked on my non fiction pitch this morning. All weekend (while working) I was thinking about it and jotting notes down. Had some of it written out, but turned out to need revamping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glad to be feeling pretty good about it now, although it isn't finished yet.  Not sure if any of the agents will take a bite at my bait, but I guess that's the chance we all take. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking.........nothing.............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If your wondering what I'm doing, I'm just staring at the computer screen with a definite loss for words. So....... I'm just going to start writing whatever. Bear with me, at least until I latch onto something I can run with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just thinking about the things that I have to do this week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to replace a water pump in the saturn which is something I have been putting off for far too long. The car tends to overheat in the warmer weather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to work more on the camper. Oh, did I tell you I got another camper. This one is a Ten foot jem! No not really a jem, but it isn't all that bad. Although it is a lot older than I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously. People have been camping in this baby even before I was born.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Circa 1961. Eleven years before I was even conceived. Wow! Maybe I'll post pictures after I'm done, but I'll wait till AFTER I'm done. If I did now, you would probably shake your head in shame for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's see what else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to try and start the kids tree house. I took down a large poison ivy vine from the tree it's going in. I didn't even get poison Ivy. I took all the precautions so not to get it. I've gotten it before and it's NO FUN!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be right back.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay I'm back. I was getting Jorgie ready for school. Now I have Marcus next to me playing with his action figures, I am currently talking in a deep voice and pretending to be one of his figures. Actually he calls them action (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;fingers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;).&lt;/span&gt; He also calls hand sanitizer (&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;hanitizer&lt;/span&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;Cute huh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I apologize in advance for any errors. It's a little difficult to concentrate with an action figure war  happening right before my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh my got it's the alligator!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just took one of his figures to "the doctor". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry, it's only a minor injury.  I think he will be just fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know exactly why I get up early to write in the morning.  Oh no not the Dinosaur!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's it for today, I am about to get eaten alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those are the Thoughts Of A George,&lt;br /&gt;until tomorrow&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-5417617885666053970?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/5417617885666053970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=5417617885666053970' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5417617885666053970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5417617885666053970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/05/writers-loss-for-words-actions-fingers.html' title='A writer&apos;s loss for words, Actions Fingers, and a Dinosaur?'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-5977440568734743898</id><published>2009-05-15T03:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-15T04:49:58.766-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pretending to get paid to write and The Shining?</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 5:20&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 5:45 - 6:45&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not a bad writing morning. Gained a little ground, although not as much as I would have liked. I worked on my non fiction project which seems to be going pretty well. I really have to make my pitch and outline for the writing conference in less than TWO WEEKS!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll have to think about it this weekend, while I'm working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does that constitute me getting paid for writing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, you're right. No it doesn't!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think writing this blog has helped with my non fiction writing, or at least getting comfortable with it. It's good practice, and although I don't say anything groundbreaking, it's a good way to get some of those extra words out of my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are quite a few up there, too many sometimes. It's frustrating because they all want to come out at once, but I don't have enough time to get them down. So I let them battle among themselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some reason I just thought of the movie, The Shining. When Jack, the protagonist, writes a whole book that says:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Line, after line.......... after line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just had a thought, what if you published a book that had that line in it....... you know, like as if Jack Torrance (The Shining protagonist) wrote it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One second, I'll be right back...............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay I'm back. Yeah guess what. It's already been done. This artist by the name of Phil &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Buehler&lt;/span&gt; already self published it. Imagine that.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book is here if you're interested in taking a look: &lt;a href="http://www.blurb.com/books/515476" target="_blank"&gt;Here is the novel - All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty funny huh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's it for today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lot's of yard work to do. It's supposed to be nice out today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So those are the Thoughts of a George,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See you on Tuesday morning,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-5977440568734743898?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/5977440568734743898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=5977440568734743898' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5977440568734743898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5977440568734743898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/05/pretending-to-get-paid-to-write-and.html' title='Pretending to get paid to write and The Shining?'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-4349518854247649988</id><published>2009-05-14T04:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T04:40:43.455-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Feedback can be like swallowing a large dry stone!</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 5:40&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 6:00 - 7:00&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not a bad writing morning. Worked on some non fiction, which seems to be going pretty well. I got up later than I would have liked, but I still managed to squeeze an hour in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am grappling with some feedback that Michelle has given on the Waking Hour. It's always hard to get feedback on something we are so close to. But sometimes it is necessary to listen in order to better our work and strengthen the quality of it. Besides, it will prepare us for those "Bad Reviews" we all will get sooner or later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will take it in pride, swallow the stone and move forward. It's tough, no matter how thick your skin is. It always seems the dry stone lodges itself mid way down your throat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I have to remember that writing is a long process and within that process, our work goes through a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;metamorphosis&lt;/span&gt; of sorts. I'm sure if you look at some of the initial drafts of some of the greatest works out there, they all have changed considerably from the beginning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that being said let me take one more swallow..................... wait one more.......and there it goes. The stone is down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although, now it sits in the pit of my stomach...... Oh great what's going to happen when it works it's way out through my digestive system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh shit!......................Literally!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, those are the Thoughts of a George&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-4349518854247649988?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/4349518854247649988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=4349518854247649988' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4349518854247649988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4349518854247649988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/05/feedback-can-be-like-swallowing-large.html' title='Feedback can be like swallowing a large dry stone!'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-2311043894448690452</id><published>2009-05-13T04:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T04:28:08.023-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am a Frustrated Author, What a big surprise!</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 5:20&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: None&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't write this morning. I wanted to do a little research on the BEA Conference and try and figure out registration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To my dismay, I'm not sure if I will be able to go.  I think you have to be a published author or a industry proffesional and may cost more than expected. I'll have to talk to Michelle about it. Hopefully she can set me straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am working on a blog entry about our trip to the Polar Caves last Sunday (Mothers Day), but is taking a lot longer than expected. I was working on it yesterday morning, then sat it aside and said I would work on it later and post it, but then was too late. By the time we got the kids to bed it was almost 9:00pm and was time to watch Fringe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Season Finale. It was a good one, glad to see it is coming on again next season.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still a little frustrated and sad at the whole BEA thing. I will keep you posted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those Are The Thoughts Of A George,&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-2311043894448690452?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/2311043894448690452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=2311043894448690452' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/2311043894448690452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/2311043894448690452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-am-frustrated-author-what-big.html' title='I am a Frustrated Author, What a big surprise!'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-7283051173728175892</id><published>2009-05-08T03:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T04:27:10.478-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Best things In Life Are Free, Junk Included</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 5:40&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: None&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah that's right. I didn't get any writing time in this morning. I forfeited my writing time this morning to make April a mothers day card.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shhhhh....... Don't tell April.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, um.....well she probably read this. Surprise April!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it looks like it's going to be really nice out today. It makes me feel good to see sunshine. I was getting rather down from all the rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to take out the windows in the camper for the kids tree house today. That will be fun. I was going to demolish the camper, then sell the frame but I have changed my mind. I am going to take everything out of it, then put it out for free. The ultimate freebie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are already known as the house that put stuff out for free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, people say..... "Oh you live in the house that puts free stuff out all the time." I'm not kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess that's what happens when you buy storage auctions and are left with a lot of junk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One mans junk is another mans treasure. I can tell the economy is in the tank right now, because people take anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really, I mean anything. From old stained mattresses, to wet Winnie the Pooh bean bags. We have had stuff out there that got soaked from a rain storm, (bean bag) and we were going to bring it to the dump the next day. Well, we woke up and it was ALL gone. All but a few small plastic scraps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who says we never give to our community!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well anyway, I don't want to dismantle the camper because I would like to start the tree house.&lt;br /&gt;Although I am running into trouble finding the right hardware to attach the two 6x6 beams to the tree's. I have it in my mind, but I can't find the right hardware that's rated for the weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want it to be safe, and I want it to last. I want it to last because eventually when the kids move out, I want my writing studio in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well. hopefully we will have a new house by then, but we will see. Either way, I think if I make it cool enough it may be a good selling point for the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I think that's it for today. I can't believe it is Friday already. &lt;br /&gt;BACK TO WORK!&lt;br /&gt;Yuck.&lt;br /&gt;Well those are the Thoughts Of A George&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-7283051173728175892?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/7283051173728175892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=7283051173728175892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/7283051173728175892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/7283051173728175892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/05/best-things-in-life-are-free-junk.html' title='The Best things In Life Are Free, Junk Included'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-3469930316439742426</id><published>2009-05-07T03:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T04:39:35.732-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Conversations with Rocks, Karma, and A Lonely Acorn</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 4:50&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 5:10am -6:10am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not a bad writing morning overall. I got some rewriting done on The Waking Hour, and it felt good to get a solid hour in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;disappointed&lt;/span&gt; to find that it was raining outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I worked on some of the pictures for my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;children's&lt;/span&gt; story a little (The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Lonely&lt;/span&gt; Little Acorn). Only ten minutes worth, and ten minutes isn't much, trust me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The story is about a little acorn that is afraid to leave his limb. With the coaxing from his elder, (Father Oak) he builds up the confidence to tackle the world. I really like this story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is very time consuming, and I really like working on the pictures. I'm doing all digital pictures for it, and although it looks pretty good, it is so hard to get it just right. It would probably be easier if I just draw them. Too bad I can't draw very well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone out there &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;believe&lt;/span&gt; in Karma?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do. Sometimes it is one of the things that keeps me going. Sometimes it helps me get past certain things in my life. Things that I have no control over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karma is when ones past deeds, affects all that happens to them in the present and future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically, what goes around, comes around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Whether&lt;/span&gt; it is lying, treating others a certain way, or even something as simple as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;holding&lt;/span&gt; the door open for someone. These actions will affect you in the future, whether it's today, tomorrow or maybe when your eighty years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I try to live by it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took out my satchel of rocks this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it sounds funny. What do I have a satchel of rocks for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They help me think when I hold them. I cradle them in my hand, move them around to feel their cool smoothness on my skin. They make the sound of marbles in my palm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have five of them all together, all about the size of a quarter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the rocks is flat with a slight orange hue. This one has the word Clarity engraved in it. It helps me clear my mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another one of the rocks is a rock that my sister Michelle gave me a long time ago. It is also smooth and is called a wisdom rock. If you hold it up to the light, you can see small filaments inside its faintly cloudy surface. This one helps me think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another one is pink, with a white &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;marble&lt;/span&gt; interior. This one makes me feel passionate and seems to open my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The two other rocks are not as smooth as the others. These were found on the beach, and have more of a rough earthy feel to them. These two make a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;different&lt;/span&gt; sound than the others and are shaped more like wafers. These two rocks remind me of earthly elements.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, there you have it. Yes I am crazy, but at least I don't talk to the rocks. Well at least not all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, those are The Thoughts Of A George,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-3469930316439742426?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/3469930316439742426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=3469930316439742426' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3469930316439742426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3469930316439742426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/05/conversations-with-rocks-karma-and.html' title='Conversations with Rocks, Karma, and A Lonely Acorn'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-2016319830586015381</id><published>2009-05-06T03:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T04:05:41.217-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Eating Blood Sauasge, Mutiny, and Writing</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 4:50am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time : 5:15am - 6:00am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just couldn't get started this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why? I worked a little on The Waking Hour, but I couldn't loose myself in it. I'll blame the rain. Yeah it's the dreary weather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No seriously, I just wasn't into it this morning. Still worked, actually more like pecked away at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It felt like hmmmm.............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know like when you were a kid and your parents forced you to eat something. You would put it in your mouth and chew, but despite your best effort it was almost impossible to swallow it. Your body just didn't listen to what your mind was saying, and it felt as if every cell in your body was screaming for a mutiny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay it wasn't that bad, but I still wasn't into it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talking about eating food that we didn't like as a kid. I can remember my parents getting blood sausage and making my sister and I eat it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes...... blood sausage. And yes, it is made out of blood, actually coagulated blood to be exact, and then mixed with flower and put into processed cow intestine. I can remember having that gag reflex then. I can also remember that it was chalky and ......... well...disgusting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How could they do that. When ever Jorgie or Marcus complain about eating something (broccoli etc... nothing too nasty)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I give them the old....... you know when I was little, my parents.........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holy crap I must be old if I'm doing that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well that's it for today. Those are The Thoughts Of A George.&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-2016319830586015381?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/2016319830586015381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=2016319830586015381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/2016319830586015381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/2016319830586015381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/05/eating-blood-sauasge-mutiny-and-writing.html' title='Eating Blood Sauasge, Mutiny, and Writing'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-4523112147864352851</id><published>2009-05-05T03:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T04:30:38.737-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Problems, Opportunities, and Your Opinion</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 4:35&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 5:02am - 6:10am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had an overall pretty good writing day today. I got up early and that's always good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up at 4:30am, looked at the clock and thought "Oh shit, I'm late for work!" Then took a moment and realized I don't work today. (I have to leave the house at 4:05am to get to work on time)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been having a problems, with that lately. Actually if you want to talk Wal-Mart talk, we could say, "Ive been having some opportunities with my tardiness."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I do believe that problems can be viewed as an opportunity to develop better ideas. There are no problems, just opportunities to improve the way we do things. It's the positive way of thinking and I am all for that&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, it is funny when people just substitute the word opportunity for problem. Trust me, I see them do it at work all the time. But the funny part is, I don't think they understand the concept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's rather comical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I worked on Chapter 4 this morning. No need for a complete rewrite on this chapter which is a relief. I started my writing morning by reading chapter 1, but put a quick end to that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What happens is that I will read a little, then tinker a little, then read a little, then tinker a little more. I had to tell myself to leave it alone, so I moved ahead to chapter 4. That did need some tinkering. ( it had some opportunities for improvement) I rewrote the description of one of my characters, her name is Julia. Tell me what you think of the character description, and do you get a good image of her?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does she seem annoying?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;***************&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;When the truck was out of sight, Robert turned up the steps and walked into the restaurant. The lobby smelled of sweet baked breads, syrup, and a combination of cinnamon and spiced apples. Robert walked up to the podium and waited. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Julia, the breakfast waitress snuck up from behind him and goosed Robert, knocking his knees out with hers. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Robert turned to see her laughing. “Very funny, now can I have a table?” He tried to play it off as not a big deal, but the truth was she was always doing these foolish things. “Seriously Julia.” &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Your brother's not here yet." She said chomping on her gum.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Julia was young, and immature. Not the kind of girl Robert would be attracted to. Her skin was a pale whitewash gray, and silhouetted against her black hair she looked almost ghoulish. Small bits of shrapnel poked through her skin, lips and even her nose, which didn’t help her ghostly complexion any. Her only saving grace was the black dress pants and a white polo shirt the restaurant must have made her wear. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Robert took her in again, realizing she would be a fairly pretty girl if only she lost her desperate need to look angry. And Robert knew about anger, but the difference was, Robert internalized his.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;*************&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, there it is, right from the pages of The Waking Hour. How does it sound?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be honest now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It looks dreary outside. Ick!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much for getting anything done outside today. Oh Darn, that means I can't start dismantling the camper today. Not really something I am looking forward to. Although I was in it the other day and realized I can use some of the bunks for the kids tree house. Maybe some other stuff too. We'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how long it will take me to dismantle it. Maybe I will post some pictures. Maybe I will set it on fire?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just kidding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that is it for this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those are the Thoughts of a George,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-4523112147864352851?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/4523112147864352851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=4523112147864352851' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4523112147864352851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4523112147864352851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/05/problems-opportunities-and-your-opinion.html' title='Problems, Opportunities, and Your Opinion'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-3794515961674679513</id><published>2009-05-01T03:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T04:40:30.983-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Operation Camper Extraction: Mission Accomplished with Minimal Casualties</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 5:35&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to bed late last night and was regretting it when I got up at 5:35am. By the time I sat down this morning, it was too late to get involved in a writing project so here I am writing this blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I picked up the camper yesterday. Would you like to know how that went? Well, I'll tell you anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loaded the necessary and unnecessary tools into my truck, buckled my son in and we were off. I tend to over bring tools. Seriously, I bring so much stuff! Yeah even a small generator and skill saw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove to Springfield, so it wasn't too far from our house, 25minutes on the highway. It was our second trip up, as I had already looked at the camper on Tuesday, hoping to take it then, but it was in worse shape than I had hoped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In order to take it, I had to add tail lights, put something over the gaping hole in the roof (previous owners took apart roof with lofty intentions and left it that way) secure doors, and check miscellaneous wires sticking out of the side of the camper. The woman that was giving it away, said Thursday would be fine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when we got up there yesterday, to my surprise there was a car parked directly in front of the camper. I knocked on the door of the house......... No answer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little frustrated, I walked back to the camper. I didn't want to make this trip for nothing, waste gas, or just sit around all day for someone to come back. So I reaccessed the situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all, the lady said I could have the camper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The camper was parked on the side of a hill, the car was preventing me from gaining access from the left and the STEEP hill on the right was the only way to get at it. I said what the heck, stuck the truck in 4X4 and backed it up the hill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surprisingly, I managed to get at the camper after a few tries and hook it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah! That's right, nothing stands between me and a dilapidated camper!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I hooked it up, backed up and turned around. Ready for a quick exit, just in case some overzealous neighbor thinks I'm stealing this gem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I unloaded the tools, ladder, tarp, screws. Climbed on the roof while Marcus "helped" me from down below. The lady finally shows up. She apologizes for parking in the way, all the while trying to figure how I actually managed to get at the camper. She explains that she didn't want me to drive over her leach field.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh shit!" Literally.........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Should have left a note.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I attached the tarp to the roof and on the second to last screw, I managed to drive the screw gun into my thumb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny thing is, when I was over packing my tools I saw the first aid box I keep in the car. I shook my head and said "What do I need that for?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remembered that as I was climbing down the ladder, while blood was dripping from my hand. "Marcus..." I said to my son. "I need a band aid."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He says, "Where that band-aid box Daddy?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I laugh....... all the while looking for a band-aid. I strike gold in the glove box. One band-aid and a lot of blood. Great.......I roll up a small wad of paper towel, put it under the band aid and, okay here we go, wrap electrical tape around the band aid. Yeah I know.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It stopped bleeding. My son looks at the electrical tape. "Why you do that Daddy?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hold up my hand. "I'm handy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So by now, Marcus has just about every tool from my tool box scattered across the lawn, "helping" me out. I tell him,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Make sure you put all the tools back little man."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah Daddy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's hot out now and I just want to go. I finish running the tail lights, check them and make sure they are fine. I take one last look at this gem that I have procured, and shake my head. I can only imagine the looks I will get going down the road towing this jalopy. The tattered tarp flapping in the wind, cut electrical wires sticking out from the sides, broken windows, and a set of new taillights. What a deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take all the back roads home, in fear that something will fall of if I go in speeds of over 45mph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I finally pull in the driveway, I breathe with ease. Ahhhh.... another camper extraction accomplished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can only imagine what my neighbors say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh no. Not another one. He just got rid of the last one...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait till they see what I am going to do with it. It will look wonderful as I dismantle it in the driveway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, it can't be much worse than the neighbor four houses down from us. Man, they have a junk yard!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well,&lt;br /&gt;That's The Thoughts Of A George for today. I'll be back on Tuesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to work tomorrow, got to pay the bills. This camper surly won't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later..........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-3794515961674679513?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/3794515961674679513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=3794515961674679513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3794515961674679513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3794515961674679513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/05/wake-up-535-push-ups-70-sit-ups-20-pull.html' title='Operation Camper Extraction: Mission Accomplished with Minimal Casualties'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-6010858269850828180</id><published>2009-04-30T03:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T04:20:46.957-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Cavernous Mind, Free Campers and Full Closets</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wake Up: 5:20am&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 5:35am - 6:16am&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mornings haven't been very productive lately. I think mostly because I haven't had a direct vision of what I want to accomplish when I sit down at the computer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting up late doesn't help either. Another thing that doesn't help, is that I have a few stories running through my mind at the same time and no time to explore them. That's frustrating. No writers block here, more like writers stuffed closet. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are two stories that are really nagging me for time. I have one called "Touch" which is a struggle of good and evil spiced up with a love story intertwined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Will Vinny save the world, or will he risk everything and save his one true love?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What good story doesn't have a love element in it. Seriously, it's rare that you find a popular story or movie that doesn't have a love story intertwined in it somewhere. Can you name one. I dare you to try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other story that is nagging for my time is "The Vines of Wisteria." It's a short story I wrote for Jorgies class. The characters are strong, and are still alive up there in that cavernous place called my BRAIN!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's a scary place to be, even for a seasoned veteran like myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well anyway, I worked on my synopsis this morning for the pitch session next month at the writing conference. Still nervous about my stuff not being up to par. Especially if anyone requests my material. What if they do request something, then I send it and it isn't any good! I just blew my one chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh stop George! There's always next year, right. Well, here is what I have so far. Let me know what you think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Waking Hour Synopsis&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Robert Clayton had it all, a loving wife, a healthy new born child, and a home that most of us only dream of. He had the quintessential American life. But what happens when one single decision takes it all away. Can Robert ever truly recover? Can this man forgive himself for what is now gone forever? Can he ever stop blaming himself, his mother and his brother, so that he can move on and love again?&lt;br /&gt;Not until Grace Galvenston, a single mom on the run from the law stumbles into their lives. Grace, a woman who has never known true love, except for her six year old son, unknowingly works her way into their hearts.&lt;br /&gt;After her son’s life is saved by Robert from a flooding riverbed, Robert’s family opens up their home to Grace so she can stay. In return, Grace unconsciously gets in their hearts, setting in motion the road to healing. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But what happens when Robert finds out that Grace is wanted for murder. Should he believe her, does he know her enough to trust this woman he has fallen in love with. Or should he believe his brother, a police officer who doesn't always have the best judge of character. And if Robert can get past that, will he be able to face the past in order to save Grace, risking everything all over again. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Will he be able to save it all this time, or will it all be lost again. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Waking Hour is a story of love, forgiveness, and of starting over. It is a story that resonates through all of our hearts. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you think? Doe it sound any good?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does it make you want to read it? Let me know, feel free to leave a comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well it's off to pick up a junky camper today. (FREE, can't beat that) Yeah that's right, 32 feet of junkiness. Hole in the roof, no tail lights, broken window, a real dream home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah it's sort of like my hobby. Well, kind of. I'm getting this one so I can use some of the stuff for the kids tree house. Usually I get them to fix up and sell, but not this one. I'll post about my escapade tomorrow. I hope there isn't much to post and it all goes smoothly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, those are the Thoughts of a George,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-6010858269850828180?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/6010858269850828180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=6010858269850828180' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/6010858269850828180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/6010858269850828180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/04/my-cavernous-mind-free-campers-and-full.html' title='My Cavernous Mind, Free Campers and Full Closets'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-3289992581961083623</id><published>2009-04-29T03:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T04:44:39.805-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Clouds, Inner Critics, and the Trash</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 5:20&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 5:35 - 6:15&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not a very productive day. It was one of those mornings that never seemed to get going. I did a little editing, which was okay, but that was it. It was hard to quiet the critic this morning. Even though I put him in the trash, and shut the lid, I can still hear him in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man, did you hear that. He said that my stuff will never get published. He's a pain in the ass!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I was in one of those funks this morning, I ended up looking over some previously written stuff in my writing folder. (looking for some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;reassurance&lt;/span&gt; that my inner critic knew nothing at all)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came across some decent stuff, and it gave me a little hope, but it still didn't shut up my inner critic. He's still heckling me from that damn trash can. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Jeez&lt;/span&gt;, shut up I tell you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did something yesterday I haven't done in a long time. I laid down in a field, closed my eyes and listened to the breeze blow all around me. It was so nice to hear mother nature whisper in my ear again. The gusts, the rustle of branches , the creaking trees as they bent and swayed with limber ease. That sound of the building wind as it moved over the hills and valleys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's amazing how easily the breeze moves over the earth. I can only hope, that I too can move and WRITE so gracefully someday.  It was so nice to hear it. So nice to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;reacquaint&lt;/span&gt; myself with an old friend. Oh I missed you, let's not wait so long again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then after catching up on old times, I watched the clouds with the kids. It was a perfect day. We picked shapes out, a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Raccoon&lt;/span&gt;, and plenty of dragons. It was nice, but then they got bored and wanted me up to play on the playground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kids, they just don't realize the delight of doing nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well,&lt;br /&gt;That the Thoughts of a George (and his stupid inner critic) for today,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-3289992581961083623?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/3289992581961083623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=3289992581961083623' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3289992581961083623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3289992581961083623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/04/clouds-inner-critics-and-trash.html' title='Clouds, Inner Critics, and the Trash'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-7259905208113032007</id><published>2009-04-28T03:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T04:50:20.241-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sex, Writing and New Cars</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 5:20am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 60&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 5:40am - 6:16am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My writing morning turned out pretty good this morning. Although it wasn't as long as I would have liked. I got up late, of course because I went to bed late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big surprise there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although my writing time was limited, I was pleasantly surprised this morning. I was lost in rewriting and the next thing I know, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Jorgie&lt;/span&gt; was up. I looked down at my desktop clock and it's already 6:16.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you wondering why 6:16. Well, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Jorgie&lt;/span&gt; has her alarm set to 6:16am. She doesn't want it set for 6:15 or 6:17, it has to be 6:16? It does kind of have a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;rhyme&lt;/span&gt; to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I didn't want to stop writing this morning, which is always a good sign. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever be done rewriting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I will !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;super positive&lt;/span&gt; me by the way. I told the other George to keep it down and stay in check. I had some problems with that guy this weekend. You know the one, the one that says,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'll never get published."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, you know who I'm talking about. We all have that side. But I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;believe&lt;/span&gt; that hard work and diligence pays off in the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(boy I hope so)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do know that you can't just work hard and stay in a cave forever, that doesn't work. But I think that what you produce needs to be the best you can do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Michelle, my wonderful sister, wrote about marketing this weekend on her blog. I think marketing is important, but I don't think that product should be second in line. Not saying that is what Michelle said, I just want to express my opinion on the subject. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that product is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;most&lt;/span&gt; important, out of everything. Let's use a car for an example.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You could spend millions of dollars on an add campaign, get the word out there about your new wonderful car, but the reality is, if the car leaves you unsatisfied, you will tell everyone that the car SUCKS! Millions of dollars spent, and no one buys your car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the same theory that Donald &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Maass&lt;/span&gt; uses in his book, Writing the Breakout Novel. If you don't have quality characters, quality plot line and a book that gives the reader a feeling of connection, you will not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;recommend&lt;/span&gt; that book, or buy another book from the author. It's that simple. We need to make a connection with our readers, and the way we do that is having a quality product.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like sex.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh my god, I mentioned sex. I'll probably get a whole bunch of hits on my blog today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, if you're not satisfied after sex, you're probably not going to look forward to it next time. Right? Except with sex you don't have to pay for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I guess some people do, although it is illegal!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a book, we invest a lot more time than we do with sex. We invest a week or two with it. We sleep with it, we eat with it, and if it's really good, we ride to work with it. To do that, you have to want to read it. As a writer we are faced with so much competition out there. We have to compete with the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Internet&lt;/span&gt;, movies, TV, friends, sex, so many things that people could be doing other than reading our books. We are in a fast paced society that doesn't value reading much anymore. So what are we to do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Make sure your product is good. I mean really, really good. So good that your ready can't put it down.&lt;br /&gt;How do we do this. Write, read and maybe a little praying to whatever god you pray to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well that's it for today. I have to bring &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Jorgie&lt;/span&gt; to school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those are the thought of a George,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow,&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-7259905208113032007?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/7259905208113032007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=7259905208113032007' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/7259905208113032007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/7259905208113032007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/04/sex-writing-and-new-cars.html' title='Sex, Writing and New Cars'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-3435109489643232245</id><published>2009-04-24T05:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T06:18:25.643-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dirty litter boxes, birthday cake and Writing?</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 6:30am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 7:00 - 8:00&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Didn't get much writing done this morning. Worked a little on The Waking Hour Chapter 1. Also did a little research on the BEA writers conference next month. I'm a little nervous about the pitch slam. Not really worried about the pitch, I can handle talking in front of people and taking criticism, but more worried that my writing isn't ready yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did print out Chapter 1 and let April read it. She did like the new version better. She said she liked both, but liked the new revision better because there was more connection with the characters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going try to work on my pitch for the book this weekend. That's one benefit of having a job that doesn't require much brain power. I can have my mind on other things, like my book pitch. Don't tell anyone! Especially &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Walmart&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made the baseball cake yesterday and it came out ......alright. I wanted to do so much more with it, but she's only giving me $40. At the rate it took me, plus cost of materials, I made about $7.00 per hour. Definitely not paying the mortgage off with that. And people wonder why I don't go into cake decorating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SfG7uxfi9jI/AAAAAAAAAE8/l548X0WZQ4M/s1600-h/DSCF0796.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328246246390036018" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 198px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SfG7uxfi9jI/AAAAAAAAAE8/l548X0WZQ4M/s320/DSCF0796.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to make it look like Fen way Park. I probably should have used Fondant, but it would have been more expensive. Fondant is like an edible clay. It's not clay but you can form it like a clay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's not that bad, it actually looks better in person than it does in the picture. I can be overcritical sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's no big surprise. I'm overcritical about writing too. Sometimes I have to keep that in check. I am better than I used to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's going to be so nice out today. I should call it quits so I can get myself outside and get something done. I really have to clean up the basement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I think about published authors, and their everyday lives. They have to do the same things we do. They have chores just as we do and sometimes.........(okay a lot of times).... we romance about being a real writer, being able to write all day. (as if that is a dream in itself) But in all reality, they're just like us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They have chores too, kids, errands, grocery shopping, raking. They're human just like us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay watch closely now, here's the positive spin on this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If they can make it, we can too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite the dirty litter boxes, and diapers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, that's the Thoughts Of A George for today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until Tuesday. Yeah it's back to work..........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-3435109489643232245?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/3435109489643232245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=3435109489643232245' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3435109489643232245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3435109489643232245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/04/wake-up-630am-push-ups-70-sit-ups-20.html' title='Dirty litter boxes, birthday cake and Writing?'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SfG7uxfi9jI/AAAAAAAAAE8/l548X0WZQ4M/s72-c/DSCF0796.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-8033017747836969099</id><published>2009-04-23T04:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T06:34:36.837-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fun trip'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Zoo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='AAA'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stoneham Massachusetts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stone Zoo'/><title type='text'>Lions, Tigers And Bears.....Oh My ....dead battery?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;So I woke up late this morning. Yeah it was about twenty minutes ago, (7:00am) so this will be my writing time for today. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;April and I stayed up until 12:40am watching &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Twilight&lt;/span&gt;. More about that later or tomorrow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;So we went to the zoo yesterday. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;We all had fun. There was the usual routine of getting ready. That frantic dash to gather everything we need for the day. The making of the lunches, the cooler and the ice packs. The game boy, books, extra clothes. Then the questions of batteries being charged, where someones shoes are, did you grab the camera. All that stuff, you know the routine. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;We made it out of the house by 10:20, which wasn't all that bad, except we hadn't eaten a morsel yet. Our family without the proper sustenance is like a pack of hungry tigers hovering around a kill. You know like the ones you see on the nature channel that growl at each other if they get too close. So before it got to that, we stopped at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Dunkin&lt;/span&gt; Donuts before heading on our way. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;How come cake isn't accepted to eat at breakfast, but donuts are? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;We arrived at the Stone Zoo around 11:30am. It was one of those mornings where the sun was playing hide and seek with us behind the clouds. Which was fine, when the sun came out it felt too warm. We saw the Wolves first. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I love &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;watching&lt;/span&gt; the wolves. They are so elegant, and wild and the way they float across the ground when they walk is so mystical to me. I remember when I was a child I used to think I used to be a dog, or wolf in a past life. Funny the imagination we have as kids. I was sure of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SfBec2ljq4I/AAAAAAAAAEE/N0opLmxQhg8/s1600-h/DSCF0727.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327862208961686402" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 257px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SfBec2ljq4I/AAAAAAAAAEE/N0opLmxQhg8/s320/DSCF0727.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I was? Funny because I have a couple of slightly pointed teeth, and I was sure, (when I was younger) that it was a sign that I was. I'm sure most of us &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;homo sapiens&lt;/span&gt; all have slightly pointed teeth I guess, but as a child it was a secret I kept all to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went by the snow &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;leopard&lt;/span&gt;, but she apparently was shy, hiding behind a log up on a cliff. We walked past the barnyard, (goats, sheep, zebu), walked through a winding &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;trail&lt;/span&gt; where we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;saw &lt;/span&gt;a bald eagle, bears, a dancing skunk? Not sure why the skunk was dancing? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Take a look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-fb1c41efff4514e2" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v11.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dfb1c41efff4514e2%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331004480%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D85DD8A0517B65E3F2A1BEC284B825F1ECC7F777D.F06011EC04F576BB64CF5445998F1455691DD27%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dfb1c41efff4514e2%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dw-D3ljKwTOoz9-ks1cPA9X5H4F4&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v11.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dfb1c41efff4514e2%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331004480%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D85DD8A0517B65E3F2A1BEC284B825F1ECC7F777D.F06011EC04F576BB64CF5445998F1455691DD27%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dfb1c41efff4514e2%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3Dw-D3ljKwTOoz9-ks1cPA9X5H4F4&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;We took a lunch break, we were all starting to act like we should be an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;exhibit&lt;/span&gt; ourselves.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327857029755685730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SfBZvYiny2I/AAAAAAAAADs/FIRjVGeNik4/s320/DSCF0746.JPG" border="0" /&gt;After that we went into the insect and reptile building. Pretty cool, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;especially&lt;/span&gt; those large hissing cockroaches. Did you know that there are &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;200 million insects per every human&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; on the planet. Yeah &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;seriously&lt;/span&gt; creepy. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Considering&lt;/span&gt; the planets population is something like 6,775,212,350. Yeah that's right, holy crap! I got this number from here &lt;a href="http://www.census.gov/main/www/popclock.html"&gt;http://www.census.gov/main/www/popclock.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;A pop clock, seriously? So that's where all our taxes are going. What would we do without that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SfBdi1niwCI/AAAAAAAAAD8/CSwjMCN6TDY/s1600-h/DSCF0760.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327861212269166626" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SfBdi1niwCI/AAAAAAAAAD8/CSwjMCN6TDY/s320/DSCF0760.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;Anyway, so we passed the lama, and a few other exhibits. Past the Cougar, which is one seriously big cat. Meow!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SfBoI5CeWHI/AAAAAAAAAEk/Faxj7E5mmes/s1600-h/DSCF0784.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327872861138737266" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SfBoI5CeWHI/AAAAAAAAAEk/Faxj7E5mmes/s320/DSCF0784.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="left"&gt;We came to the jaguar, which is such a mystical and graceful animal. This Jaguar is less than a year old. What a an amazing animal. We got to see her eat a mouse for lunch, but I realized we overstayed our time when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Jorgie&lt;/span&gt; kept saying, &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;"Can we keep going."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SfBgGz6vkOI/AAAAAAAAAEM/om9L7C2OzpA/s1600-h/DSCF0769.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327864029311373538" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SfBgGz6vkOI/AAAAAAAAAEM/om9L7C2OzpA/s320/DSCF0769.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;So we kept moving, and went through the rest of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;exhibits&lt;/span&gt;, took a few more pictures and then went to the playground. Kids love playgrounds. We spent about fifteen minutes in the rain. That's why no pictures. We already broke one camera last year &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;during&lt;/span&gt; summer vacation because of rain, we didn't want to do that again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;By now it was pouring so we ran to the car (with camera &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;safely&lt;/span&gt; packed in a plastic bag) and when approaching the car, I pressed the auto unlock on the remote. Nothing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Uh Oh!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SfBqEgnsl9I/AAAAAAAAAEs/LP_MDPiS2Cc/s1600-h/DSCF0789.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327874984887752658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SfBqEgnsl9I/AAAAAAAAAEs/LP_MDPiS2Cc/s320/DSCF0789.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;I opened the doors, went to start the car and the battery was dead. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Great! So we packed up the car, hopped in and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;contemplated&lt;/span&gt; what to do now in a seriously fogged up car.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SfBi7kD1uhI/AAAAAAAAAEU/eMbszWpg2qg/s1600-h/DSCF0792.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327867134610881042" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SfBi7kD1uhI/AAAAAAAAAEU/eMbszWpg2qg/s320/DSCF0792.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;We thought about going to the main office and ask if someone could give us a jump, but we both came to the conclusion that they probably wouldn't due to liabilities or something. So we call AAA, yeah that swear word. w&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;it&lt;/span&gt;, w&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;it, w&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;A&lt;/span&gt;it. Yeah and I was right. We waited for almost two hours, just to get a jump start. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;You know what the funny part was? Just before the the goofy guy in his green &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;fluorescent&lt;/span&gt; slicker came, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;maintenance&lt;/span&gt; guy from the zoo pulls up and asks if we need anything. Very nice guy. We tell him that our battery died and we are waiting for triple AAA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Well anyway, The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;maintenance&lt;/span&gt; guy says it's no bother and says he will go inside to get the jumper, but when he does, the A******, A******, A******, guy finally shows up. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;So thank Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;Maintenance&lt;/span&gt; guy from Stone Zoo, for being a kind and helpful human being. I know you will never read this, but thank you anyway. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;So the AAA guy gives us a jump, and then tries to sell us a battery. Of course I say no. Thank you, but I don't care if I only have a few cold cranking amps, it's not cold out. Our battery died because we left the stinking cooler plugged in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that was our day. We drove home in traffic, almost got into a fender bender, April realized her imaginary air brakes in the passenger seat doesn't work......(we'll l have to get them checked at the garage. probably worn from overuse).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ate at F&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;riendly's&lt;/span&gt;, while singing like the commercial "I want to go to F&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;riendly's&lt;/span&gt;" Just kidding about the singing, although Marcus did sing it a couple of times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got home around 8:00pm. It was fun. I didn't even get grumpy when waiting for that AAA guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well that's it for today. Man, this took a lot longer than I expected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those are the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;Thoughts&lt;/span&gt; Of A George for today. Off to eat breakfast and then to make a cake. I'll show you how it comes out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow, George&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-8033017747836969099?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=fb1c41efff4514e2&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/8033017747836969099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=8033017747836969099' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/8033017747836969099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/8033017747836969099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/04/lions-tigers-and-bearsoh-my-dead.html' title='Lions, Tigers And Bears.....Oh My ....dead battery?'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SfBec2ljq4I/AAAAAAAAAEE/N0opLmxQhg8/s72-c/DSCF0727.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-3481182619807531622</id><published>2009-04-22T04:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T04:43:16.033-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A mind in the midst of mayhem</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 5:55am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 6:15  - 7:00am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, my writing time wasn't all that long this morning, or at least as long as I would like. It is partially because my mind seems to be disjointed and going in a few &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;different&lt;/span&gt; directions today. But, overall, the time I spent rewriting Chapter 1 was good. I managed to finish it and will print it out when I finish writing this. I printed it out yesterday for April to read, then while it was sitting on the table, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;beckoning&lt;/span&gt; me to read it, I decided to take it up on its offer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha..............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read the first three lines and I wanted to cry, or rip it up, or just scribble them out. It was one of those situations where you think it's wonderful when it really isn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well. I think I have all of that under control now. The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;beginning&lt;/span&gt; is no longer wordy and running on like a baseball player trying to steal all the bases. But we will see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have decided to try and make my blog titles &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;different&lt;/span&gt; every day instead of just writing time...blah...blah....blah. I'm not quite sure how that will work out but we will see. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; We are going to the zoo today. That will be fun. It better not rain. I am going to try and take some pictures and post them on here. Not sure how far I will get with that but I'll give it a shot...........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You get it? Shot, as in camera shot?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right, that's why I am not a comedian.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, my mind is also thinking about making a birthday cake for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Jorgie's&lt;/span&gt; friends birthday, which is on Friday.  He likes Baseball, so I'm thinking about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;fewnay&lt;/span&gt; park, or maybe a baseball. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Hmmmmmm&lt;/span&gt;.........The gears are turning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wrote the title. It sounds right to me, what do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; it for today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A mind in the midst of mayhem? Although a good title, it's not just today, that's everyday. Welcome to the Thoughts Of A George.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See ya!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-3481182619807531622?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/3481182619807531622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=3481182619807531622' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3481182619807531622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3481182619807531622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/04/mind-in-midst-of-mayhem.html' title='A mind in the midst of mayhem'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-3900535656586896330</id><published>2009-04-21T04:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T04:33:08.194-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='childhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='writing'/><title type='text'>Writing Time April 21 2009</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 5:40am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;Chin Ups: 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 6:00am - 7:10am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A good writing day. I finished my rewrite of Chapter 1 of The Waking Hour. I think it came out great. The funny thing is, it is exactly the same length as the original. That's weird. Although, despite the same length it has a quicker feel to it. I'll have to print it out and ask what April thinks about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually got seven hours of sleep last night. WOW! I don't remember the last time I got that much sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Jorgie is on vacation this week so she's still sleeping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's raining today, that takes care of doing anything outside. Last Friday night we lit the fire pit and roasted hot dogs over the coals. It was fun. Of course we made smores too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember making smores when I was a kid. It was something new the first time I did it a few years ago. The benefits of having kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is one memory that sticks out in my mind of when I was younger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a summer evening, and me, Michelle my sister, and my dad were outside. We were all gathering things to cook in some pot to make some type of dessert. Some of the ingredients were a boot, rocks etc.... You get the idea. All the while, my mom was inside making something too. Something real of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really remember what it was she made, but I think that's irrelevant. I think the reason this memory sticks out in my mind, is because my father was acting out of character. In a good way that is. He was being funny, goofy and we were all having fun together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you remember that Michelle, and do you remember it the way I do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't have too many memories of being a child. Sometimes they pop in my head, but if I try and remember them, they prefer to stay hidden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, That's the Thoughts Of A George for Today,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See you tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-3900535656586896330?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/3900535656586896330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=3900535656586896330' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3900535656586896330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3900535656586896330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/04/writing-time-april-21-2009.html' title='Writing Time April 21 2009'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-103868578533061448</id><published>2009-04-17T03:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-17T04:28:25.817-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing Time April 17 2009</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 5:00am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Push ups&lt;/span&gt;: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;Chin Ups: 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 5:20am - 6:15am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall a good writing morning. I edited chapter 1 some more. A few lines away from finishing the rewrite, and happy about that. Not finished, finished, but finished the total revamp. It has become a lot more streamlined and am a lot happier the way it flows. I wanted it to be more tense and quicker and I think I have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;accomplished&lt;/span&gt; that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least I think anyway?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took out a lot of stuff that probably wasn't needed. I think sometimes that's the hardest part. It's hard to convey feeling and emotion and make it so it isn't overly done. You have to make each word count and that's the tough part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the whole process is tough, but that's one of the tough parts. I don't have enough fingers to count all the tough parts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will let April read it to see see what she thinks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm looking out the window and am excited that it is supposed to be nice out today. Really nice!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Yipeee&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although, not so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Yipeee&lt;/span&gt;! about heading back to real work tomorrow. Oh well, I have to pay the bills until those royalty checks come rolling in!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose before that happens, I might have to be published. Maybe!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's the Thoughts Of A George for today,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until Tuesday,&lt;br /&gt;George&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-103868578533061448?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/103868578533061448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=103868578533061448' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/103868578533061448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/103868578533061448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/04/writing-time-april-17-2009.html' title='Writing Time April 17 2009'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-6118232640681707650</id><published>2009-04-16T03:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T04:05:17.676-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing Time April 16th 2009</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 4:50am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;Chin Ups: 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 5:15am - 6:15am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a good writing day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I worked on the total rewrite of Chapter 1 of The Waking Hour and it went pretty well. I found myself rereading some of it and I have a bad habit of editing the work when I reread. That's exactly why I prefer to print it and then read it when I feel it is ready. Otherwise I find my fingers traveling to the delete button. Not terrible to do but harder to just read it for what it is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found that I didn't want to come away from my writing today, and that's a good feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like those days when every excuse is a reason to get up and get away from the computer screen. Those days are frustrating. We all have them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, here is an update of the rewrite of chapter 2. April read it and she liked it better than the original. After she read it she looked at me and said,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Which one do you think I like better?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She had a smile on her face, so I thought she liked the original better. I would have been mortified, because that would mean my reading meter was off. Anyway, she liked the rewrite better. Wow, what a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;relief&lt;/span&gt;. It still needs work, but I will get to it after the chapter 1 rewrite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gave up for now on the non fiction project. At least until after the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;writers&lt;/span&gt; conference. I have to get some good quality polished stuff just in case an agent says,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh my god! That is exactly what we're looking for. Here." Agent passes me a contract. "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Sign&lt;/span&gt; this now, because we won't have any problem getting you at least a one million dollar advance for this stuff."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I'll wake up now...............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need it ready so when an agent says, "I love it! Send me some stuff as soon as you can." I will have it all ready.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, I'll wake up again.............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just in case an agent says send me some stuff and actually reads it. It will be representative of my ability.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reality sucks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh Well,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;That's&lt;/span&gt; The Thoughts Of A George,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow,&lt;br /&gt;George&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-6118232640681707650?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/6118232640681707650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=6118232640681707650' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/6118232640681707650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/6118232640681707650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/04/writing-time-april-16th-2009.html' title='Writing Time April 16th 2009'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-1063075442109756436</id><published>2009-04-15T03:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-15T03:51:00.276-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing Time April 15th 2009</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 4:40&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;Chin Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 5:05am - 6:13am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over all, a good writing day. I started rewriting chapter 1 of the Waking Hour. It seems to be coming out much better. I had a problem with it and I wasn't sure what it was. I kept switching words around but it never really helped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted Chapter 1 to be quick and tense, but it felt weighed down and slow. So I decided that since it worked well with chapter 2, I would &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;completely&lt;/span&gt; rewrite chapter 1 as well. Rewriting in the sense of starting from scratch and writing it all over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think because&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;I have a better image and view of the direction I want to go in, I can better write more &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;concise&lt;/span&gt; and tighter words. I guess we will see. I wonder what the well know authors do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I was going to make a comment on something Stephen King had said about writing and rewriting in his book On Writing but I don't remember exactly what it was. I'll have to find it again. I think basically it was that you have to cut your work to about a 1/3 of what it was.  Sorry Mr. King if I have gotten that wrong. You can go ahead and contact me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please, maybe......let me know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, anyway, I can only dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that is The Thoughts Of A George for today.&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow,&lt;br /&gt;George&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-1063075442109756436?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/1063075442109756436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=1063075442109756436' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/1063075442109756436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/1063075442109756436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/04/writing-time-april-15th-2009.html' title='Writing Time April 15th 2009'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-2458941435393746028</id><published>2009-04-14T03:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T04:18:09.292-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing Time April 14th 2009</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 4:40am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;Chin Ups: 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 5:05am - 6:10am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall, a good writing day this morning. I worked on The Waking Hour, which went pretty well. It's tough sometimes to look at the big picture of.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh that was frustrating. I just spent twenty minutes writing my blog, then went to post it and I lost it all. It asked me to log in, and because it didn't have me logged in, it wasn't saving my posts automatically.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALL GONE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It only saved my first line. Right now I am taking a deep breathe, and telling myself that everything happens for a reason. Who the heck knows what reason &lt;strong&gt;that&lt;/strong&gt; was. Maybe to cause me some damn stress. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, overall a good writing day, besides my blog &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;faux&lt;/span&gt; pas!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Worked on rewriting The Waking Hour. Went pretty well and was in the writing spirit this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well,&lt;br /&gt;I have to go get &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Jorgie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; ready for school,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;tomorrow&lt;/span&gt;, Those Are The (frustrating) Thoughts Of A George&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-2458941435393746028?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/2458941435393746028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=2458941435393746028' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/2458941435393746028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/2458941435393746028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/04/writing-time-april-14th-2009.html' title='Writing Time April 14th 2009'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-3906362424318868849</id><published>2009-04-10T03:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-10T03:58:05.917-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing Time April 10th 2009</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 5:00&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;Chin Ups: 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 5:20am - 6:15am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tired, tired, tired. Yeah that's right, I was tired this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But thankfully, there is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;caffeine&lt;/span&gt;. I think when I get published and write my acknowledgments, I will have to thank my dear friend, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Caffeine&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not a bad writing day. I worked on The Waking hour and finally got the rewrite of Chapter 2 done. (well mostly, I don't think any of my writing is ever done)  I will be printing it out shortly, but I think it sounds better than the first. I think it might be a lot more condensed, but not in the soup sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's a gross analogy. You know how condensed soup looks when it comes out of the can. That blob of a mess that makes an awful sucking sound when you try and shake it into the pan. Then the mass of half liquid, half globule mass splats into the pot. And then when you add milk or water, it's still clumpy until you heat it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Okay so maybe it isn't condensed in that sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Streamlined!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, now that's a better word. Chapter 2 seems more streamlined than before. Maybe?  Who knows, what  do I know, I'm just a writer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's it for today. It's back to the 5:00am-5:00pm work schedule tomorrow. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Yippee&lt;/span&gt;!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you catch the hint of sarcasm in, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Yippee&lt;/span&gt;!!!!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's the Thoughts of a George,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See you on Tuesday,&lt;br /&gt;George&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-3906362424318868849?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/3906362424318868849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=3906362424318868849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3906362424318868849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3906362424318868849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/04/writing-time-april-10th-2009.html' title='Writing Time April 10th 2009'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-4956421684551764928</id><published>2009-04-09T03:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-09T03:53:34.759-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing Time April 9th 2009</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 5:30&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;Chin Ups: 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 5:55am - 6:15am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy I blew it this morning. I hit my snooze way too many times. I guess I needed the sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up with my nose kind of stuffy this morning, so maybe my body is fighting off a cold or something. I'll use that excuse. Yeah that sounds good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I woke up, it was 64 degrees in here this morning. The pellet stove ran out of pellets last night, so I had to go down and get some from the basement and light it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, enough about my messed up morning. Obviously I didn't get that much writing done, and no I didn't work on Non-Fiction today. I just went straight to chapter 2 of The Waking Hour. Still working on it and I haven't yet printed it out yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to get it as good as I can, as I am going to a writers conference in May. The Waking Hour is the story I want to pitch at the agent pitch session. I want to get the first few chapters in decent shape, so if they ask me to send some material, I'll be able to send them some quality work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You never know,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow,&lt;br /&gt;Those are the Thoughts of a George&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-4956421684551764928?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/4956421684551764928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=4956421684551764928' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4956421684551764928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4956421684551764928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/04/writing-time-april-9th-2009.html' title='Writing Time April 9th 2009'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-1420455032679073000</id><published>2009-04-08T03:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T04:31:26.060-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='writing help'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='writing time'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='writing'/><title type='text'>Writing Time April 8th 2009</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 4:50am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;Chin Ups: 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 5:15am - 6:15am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall a good writing morning. I worked a solid hour and I'm happy about that. Still would like to wake up earlier, but that also depends on what time I go to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I worked on the rewriting of Chapter 2 in The Waking Hour. I finished it, now all I have to do is print it out and read them back to back. I'm curious if this total rewrite will work. If this works, I'll probably apply it to some of the other chapters as well. It's strange because some of my chapters really sound pretty good, and some..........not so good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if it is because of my frame of mind when writing it, or if it is because a lack of connection with my character.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Hmmm&lt;/span&gt;? I wonder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I get my hour of writing "Touch" today. I look forward to that time. It's not really writing time, but I still get to work on it. Ever since I read this book, The Writers Little Helper. It has changed the way that I approach the first draft. It has helped me see a lot of good things about writing, and is an invaluable source in the planning stages of any writing. It explains to organize your outline into ten easy scenes which are essential to the flow of the story. I love this book and find myself referencing back to it several times. After reading it, it has changed the way I start all of my stories. Very, very, helpful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;iframe style="WIDTH: 120px; HEIGHT: 240px" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thouofageor-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=as1&amp;amp;asins=1582974225&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS1=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr" frameborder="0" scrolling="no"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the first draft of any story is the best. I get to invent a whole new world filled with characters, emotions, events and in a way, I get to play God. I think creation has a lot more power than we think. When I c&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;reate&lt;/span&gt; things, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;use&lt;/span&gt; a part of my brain that simply amazes me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where do we pull our ideas from, and what is this imagination thing? How did I develop mine, and how can I be sure my kids have an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;imagination&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's it for today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow,&lt;br /&gt;Those are the Thoughts of a George&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-1420455032679073000?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/1420455032679073000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=1420455032679073000' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/1420455032679073000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/1420455032679073000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/04/writing-time-april-8th-2009.html' title='Writing Time April 8th 2009'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-5563554438626634414</id><published>2009-04-07T03:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T05:28:32.668-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing Time April 7th 2009</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 5:10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;Chin Ups: 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 5:30am - 6:15am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I woke up later than I wanted to. Wow, big surprise, huh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did have a good writing day despite the small amount of time. I didn't want to stop, and that's usually a pretty good sign. I'm rewriting chapter 2 of The Waking Hour, and it seems to be going well. It's hard to tell, and have to wait on the final verdict until I read them one after the other. I''ll give them both to April, and let her read them too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to try to squeeze in some extra writing time too, but it's so hard. Everything demands your time, especially when I'm taking care of Marcus (almost 4yrs old), doing dishes, putting unwanted &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;stuff&lt;/span&gt; n &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;eBay&lt;/span&gt;, making &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;DVDs&lt;/span&gt; for the PTO, fixing up a camper and the list never ends. (Oh god I'm a wreck!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I guess if it was easy, the whole 80% of Americans would write their book, and flood the market with even more slush.  Well probably not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not just time that goes into writing a book. It takes determination, skill, positive attitude and will power. And we have to do all of that for free, and then (maybe) get paid. Why in the hell do so many people want to write a book?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, a lot of that has to do with the romanticized vision people have of being a writer. If a lot of people really knew what goes into writing a book, they would run away, really, really fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we can let them have their fantasies, because that is what &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;separates&lt;/span&gt; the real writers from the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;imposter's&lt;/span&gt;. The ones that know the work involved, the ones that write because they have to, the ones that write to fight depression, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;anxiety&lt;/span&gt;, frustration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh wait a minute, doesn't writing a novel cause depression, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;anxiety&lt;/span&gt;, and frustration!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, what a delicate balance it all hangs in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's all my thoughts for today. Off to doing dishes and seeing what Marcus is yelling for me about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'll get to bed early tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah right, probably not. It seems that 5 - 6 hours of sleep is my norm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I seem to operate fine I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Until&lt;/span&gt; tomorrow,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-5563554438626634414?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/5563554438626634414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=5563554438626634414' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5563554438626634414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5563554438626634414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/04/writing-time-april-7th-2009.html' title='Writing Time April 7th 2009'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-2990509092286454480</id><published>2009-04-03T03:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T04:33:03.785-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing Time April 3rd 2009</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 5:05am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;Chin Ups: 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 5:20am - 6:10am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I can tell it was my Non Fiction day today. Evidence being, me hitting the snooze a few too many times this morning, and not getting up until 5:05. It would probably help if I could get to bed before 11:30pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, seriously!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a positive note, I did get some writing time in, even though I didn't produce all that much today, it's at least a step in the right direction. A step to being finished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Non Fiction is hard for me. It requires more structure than fiction. Not that fiction doesn't have structure, but with fiction you can let the story take you to some distant land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That doesn't happen with non fiction. When writing, you have to keep your feet grounded and convey to the reader the information without tripping over your &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;tongue&lt;/span&gt;, while still trying to keep it entertaining and witty. It's tougher for me that's for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can remember that I couldn't tell the difference between Non Fiction and Fiction when I was a kid, actually, even though I am &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;embarrassed&lt;/span&gt; to admit it, when I was out of high school too. I can remember stating that I was going to be a writer, despite the fact that I couldn't tell anyone the difference between the two. I didn't read much back then, but I do now. It's very important and sometimes I feel that when you read, it's like learning through osmosis. You &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;absorb&lt;/span&gt; the information and style, and tricks of the trade without knowing it. Michelle and I were talking about that last night, how important it is to read, and to write every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know what's amazing. Take a look at these statistics:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;80 percent of the United States population wants to write a book!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How can that be when:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1/3 of high school graduates never read another book for the rest of their lives. &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;(Holy Crap!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42 percent of college graduates never read another book after college.&lt;span style="color:#cc9933;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;(Seriously!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;80 percent of U.S. families did not buy or read a book last year. &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;(Who's going to buy my book!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;70 percent of U.S. adults have not been in a bookstore in the last five years. &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;(No wonder why we can't get published!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;57 percent of new books are not read to completion. &lt;span style="color:#006600;"&gt;(Ouch!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All statistics found here at: &lt;a href="http://www.humorwriters.org/startlingstats.html"&gt;http://www.humorwriters.org/startlingstats.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How crazy is that!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't imagine not reading, and besides you can't write a book if you don't read them. That's just a fact. I was going to say it was an obvious fact, but apparently it isn't. 80 percent. WOW!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I guess that's it for today. Back to real work tomorrow, so you won't hear from me until Tuesday morning. Unless I get a fit of inspiration after working twelve hours. Very doubtful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later,&lt;br /&gt;George&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-2990509092286454480?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/2990509092286454480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=2990509092286454480' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/2990509092286454480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/2990509092286454480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/04/writing.html' title='Writing Time April 3rd 2009'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-8399209023267252477</id><published>2009-04-02T03:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T04:05:44.633-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing Time April 2nd 2009</title><content type='html'>Wake up: 4:55&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Chin Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 5:15am - 6:05am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not a bad writing day. I got up later than I wanted to again this morning. But I guess that's what happens when you stay up until 11:30pm to watch another movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seven Pounds - Good movie, but sad ending. I like happy endings&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Worked on some of my Non-Fiction project this morning.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ugh&lt;/span&gt;.... I like fiction better, but I have to keep moving forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I am trying to set aside a little more structure for my writing routine. I'm trying to work on fiction projects on Tuesday and Wednesday, and Non Fiction on Thursday and Friday mornings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what I look forward to more!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I have to try my non fiction idea. If I don't try it, I will never know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did work on another project yesterday. Every week on Tuesday I  have been taking an hour, while Marcus in is his music and tumbling class, to outline a new story I'm working on.  I sit in the car, listen to my music (very essential) and outline "Touch" &lt;em&gt;(working title). &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am very excited about this story. It is more of a science fiction thriller I guess you could say. Not science fiction as space ships and aliens, but more along the line of Heroes type. No it isn't a Heroes clone like "Push". No I didn't see push but I want to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll give a quick Synopsis. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     The book is about the forces of good and evil and the struggle of one man, Vinny, who has fallen unwillingly into the role of saving mankind. He is more concerned about saving a woman he has only known for a week and has fallen deeply in love with. Nicky, his love, has &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;disappeared&lt;/span&gt; by the hands of Nefarious.&lt;br /&gt;     Nefarious (Lucifer) has other plans for the human race. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Battling&lt;/span&gt; against a limited amount of time to find Nicky's deepest fear in order to save her, Vinny must decide who is more important. The world, or the one woman he loves. But does he risk it all for a woman he doesn't really know, and how does he find her deepest fears when he has only known her for such a short amount of time.&lt;br /&gt;     Will Vinny save the human race from being enslaved into sin, or will he save the one woman he loves?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am pretty &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;psyched&lt;/span&gt; about this story. My quick sample of my current &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;play list&lt;/span&gt; for this one is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peter Gabriel - Us album&lt;br /&gt;All American Rejects&lt;br /&gt;Mat Kearney&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Linkin&lt;/span&gt; Park&lt;br /&gt;Train&lt;br /&gt;Blues Traveler&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's just a few.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I am pretty excited about that story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well that's it for today.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, the coffee maker trick didn't work on April. But &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Jorgie&lt;/span&gt; did pretend she was sick when April woke up. She was kind of fooled, but I think more because she was half asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until tomorrow,&lt;br /&gt;George&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-8399209023267252477?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/8399209023267252477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=8399209023267252477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/8399209023267252477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/8399209023267252477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/04/writing-time-april-2nd-2009.html' title='Writing Time April 2nd 2009'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-3539612916080689376</id><published>2009-04-01T03:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T03:41:58.205-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing Time April 1st 2009</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 4:50am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Push Ups: 70&lt;br /&gt;Sit Ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Chin Ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;Pull Ups: 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 5:15am - 6:10am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall a good writing day. I tried the rewriting of a chapter like I was saying yesterday, chapter 2 to be exact. I'm not done with it yet, but it seems to flow pretty well. Of course I won't really be able to tell until I read them one after the other. It's funny how &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;different&lt;/span&gt; writing sounds when you print it on the page and read it, versus reading it on the computer. I wonder why that is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone else feel that way? Maybe just me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got up a little later than I would have liked this morning, but that's what happens when you stay up &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;until&lt;/span&gt; 11:30pm and watch a movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was Rendition, which was a pretty good movie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyways, not a bad writing day &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;all together&lt;/span&gt;. It's funny how good I feel after a productive writing day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Jorgie&lt;/span&gt; got up this morning, I fooled her by saying that she had a delay for school. I didn't let it hang too long, so I told her it was a six hour delay. I'm not sure if that clicked or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I said "April Fools!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I unplugged the coffee maker on my wife. When April gets up and turns it on, I'll tell her that it's broken. It's a stretch, but she will be half asleep. I guess we'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not sure how to get Marcus, although he might not even understand April Fools.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;until&lt;/span&gt; tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-3539612916080689376?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/3539612916080689376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=3539612916080689376' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3539612916080689376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3539612916080689376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/04/writing-time-april-1st-2009.html' title='Writing Time April 1st 2009'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-5900704868316373820</id><published>2009-03-31T03:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T04:00:05.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Writing Time March 30 2009</title><content type='html'>Wake Up: 4:40am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Push ups&lt;/span&gt;: 60&lt;br /&gt;Sit ups: 20&lt;br /&gt;Pull ups: 10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Chin ups&lt;/span&gt;: 5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Writing Time: 5:00am - 6:10am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Worked on "The Waking Hour" this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had a good day, but not as productive as I would have liked. I'm going to start keeping track of my writing sessions on here, and hopefully it will motivate me to Keep Moving Forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Man I love that line. It's from the Disney movie "Meet The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Robinson's&lt;/span&gt;" and I'm always repeating it to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  I usually write my word count, but since I have been rewriting for so long, word count doesn't matter. No proof of what is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;accomplished&lt;/span&gt;, actually the total word count would go down do to taking things out.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Ugh&lt;/span&gt;!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rewrite,&lt;br /&gt;Rewrite,&lt;br /&gt;Rewrite,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I printed out 100 pages of "The Waking Hour" so I can start reading it, to get a feeling of where I'm at, and guess what.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rewrite,&lt;br /&gt;Rewrite,&lt;br /&gt;Rewrite,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's strange because I have chapters that I read and are great. (at least I think they are, but I don't want to bust my bubble now) I read it and then say, I wrote that? George are you sure?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But than I have chapters that are just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;completely&lt;/span&gt; off. These chapters lack something and it's so hard to tell what it is. Although I think I may have figured it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the chapters that are flat, lack voice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure, but I think I am going to go back and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;completely&lt;/span&gt; rewrite one of those chapters, just to see how it turns out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well that's it for today. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Until&lt;/span&gt; tomorrow,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;George&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-5900704868316373820?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/5900704868316373820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=5900704868316373820' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5900704868316373820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5900704868316373820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/03/writing-time-march-30-2009.html' title='Writing Time March 30 2009'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-5101156788517839091</id><published>2009-02-27T04:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T05:34:30.887-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh, that smile!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Jorgie&lt;/span&gt; and I went night &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;skiing&lt;/span&gt; at Pat's Peak yesterday. I could tell from the smile on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Jorgie's&lt;/span&gt; face that she had a lot of fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love it when she smiles, it makes me feel like I'm succeeding. It makes me feel like a good dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember smiling much when I was a kid. I wonder how it made my Dad feel when Michelle or I smiled. Did he cherish the moment? Did he feel proud of himself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a lot of fun too. I really have to try and go skiing more, after all it's right down the street. Fifteen minutes away, that's it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;seeing&lt;/span&gt; my little girl whizzing down the mountain. Two small skis, no poles, and a smile. She's quite the daredevil too. I guess I probably &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;contribute&lt;/span&gt; to that. She sees her thirty-six year old dad catching air in the snowboard park. If Dad can do it, why can't I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can only imagine when she's a teenager. I skied like.........well.....probably like an idiot in my teen years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really feel like I'm in my mid thirties, but I guess that's good, at least until I end up a thirty year old antique ball of snow rolling down the hill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, my legs feel like they have been around for a few years. Although that's more because I need to get of my thirty-six year old ass and get some more exercise.&lt;br /&gt;I always forget how much fun it is, and I really mean to go more, but we get busy. Life gets in the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that smile! That smile on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Jorgie's&lt;/span&gt; face is worth all the money in the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-5101156788517839091?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/5101156788517839091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=5101156788517839091' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5101156788517839091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5101156788517839091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2009/02/oh-that-smile.html' title='Oh, that smile!'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-3486472201679639225</id><published>2008-12-18T02:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T03:06:10.009-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Invisible Miracle</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow will mark one week of not having power.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I mean electricity. That invisible miracle that we so often take for granted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A whole week of not having power is such an eye opening experience.&lt;br /&gt;We have managed though.&lt;br /&gt;We are very lucky that I purchased a small (very small) generator last year, after I installed a pellet stove in our home. It runs on electricity so that means when there is no &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;invisible&lt;/span&gt; miracle, there's no heat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we have heat, and a few other things as well. We can run the pellet stove, and then switch out the TV, coffee maker, computer. We have to unplug one to use the other. So we have managed, but the hardest part is not having running water. No running water means no showers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh I see you backing up away from the computer screen. Come on I don't smell that bad. At least I can get first in line for just about anything. See, there is always a bright side. No I'm kidding. We've gone over April's Dad's house and taken a few showers. It's a little tough to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;trek&lt;/span&gt; an hour away just to take a shower, but it's better than being a stink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've got the toilet covered, even though we have to go down to the small stream next to our house to get buckets of water so we can flush it, at least we can use the bathroom. All these things we take for granted. Like cooking on the stove instead of cooking on the grill outside, in below freezing weather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night we saw six electric company trucks in the grocery store parking lot. It was three miles from our house! I wanted to tell them to come our way, but who knows what I would be greeted with. I saw on the news that some guy got arrested for blocking the trucks from leaving his road because he didn't have power yet. The desperation of it all. This does make for good material for a story I have been cooking up for some time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;tomorrow&lt;/span&gt;. That's what they say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh I want some of that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;invisible&lt;/span&gt; miracle back!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-3486472201679639225?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/3486472201679639225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=3486472201679639225' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3486472201679639225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/3486472201679639225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2008/12/invisible-miracle.html' title='The Invisible Miracle'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-7996396296753797683</id><published>2008-11-15T17:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T17:25:25.950-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pooping Reindeer</title><content type='html'>Yeah, you read it right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've seen it all now. I know what I'm putting on my Christmas list, a little plastic reindeer that poops candy. And where else can you get it, well of course your one and only &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart Store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah that's right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at work today (yes I work at a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Wal&lt;/span&gt;-Mart Warehouse) and one of my fellow associates came up to me and presented me a magic pooping Reindeer. Yup, If I had any doubts that Christmas has turned into a holiday just to sell stuff, this was all the evidence I needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You lift the tail and Ta-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Da&lt;/span&gt;, you have a small round &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;piece&lt;/span&gt; of candy. Wow, Yummy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have we run out of tasteful things to sell, and now we must sell out our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;children's&lt;/span&gt; stories?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, A Pooping Reindeer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What next, an Elf snow cone machine, lemon flavored!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-7996396296753797683?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/7996396296753797683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=7996396296753797683' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/7996396296753797683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/7996396296753797683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2008/11/pooping-reindeer.html' title='Pooping Reindeer'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-6132817866458657729</id><published>2008-11-11T17:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-11T18:22:54.710-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tree Time</title><content type='html'>We went to Home Depot today, the kids and I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spent over two hours in there. They did very well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm building a tree house for them. It will be a differen't type of tree house. I'm attatching a triangle shape base for the deck to three trees with chains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jorgie isn't sure if it will be cool or not. I keep reasuring her that I will make it as cool as I can but I don't think she has too much faith in me. Of course I am just winging it after all, but I am making sure it will be safe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We took the van, and I wasn't really thinking of what I needed to buy. I had to fit three 6x6x12 in the van. Some 2x6x12. We drove home with the back wide open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jorgie wanted to know if it was legal to do that or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I'll keep everyone poted on our progress with the treehouse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe even some pictures.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-6132817866458657729?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/6132817866458657729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=6132817866458657729' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/6132817866458657729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/6132817866458657729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2008/11/we-went-to-home-depot-today-kids-and-i.html' title='Tree Time'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-5435845368092892573</id><published>2008-11-06T17:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T17:54:59.395-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A New President and a New Future</title><content type='html'>A new President!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so excited, but I'm scared too. Scared of the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shouldn't we all be. On the dawn of one of the biggest financial &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;fiasco&lt;/span&gt; ever, coupled with a time when family values seem to be taking a back seat just so we can pay our bills, we all need to wake up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever happened to doing the right thing? What ever happened to taking care of our fellow man? Is that a fairy tale? Did our parents act that way? Maybe it's time we do! We can't just sit back and let the world fall apart, we can't hope that Obama will take care of it all for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have to do it. You and I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you think &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Barak&lt;/span&gt; Obama got to be president.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We did it. You and I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let's make some changes together. We can do it together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You and I!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-5435845368092892573?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/5435845368092892573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=5435845368092892573' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5435845368092892573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5435845368092892573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2008/11/new-president-and-new-future.html' title='A New President and a New Future'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-6869513987410199029</id><published>2008-10-31T02:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-31T03:04:42.771-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Helping hand</title><content type='html'>I went over my parents house yesterday. It's the second time I've gone over in the past two weeks and t&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;hat&lt;/span&gt; in itself is shocking. Last week I helped my mother lay down plywood. Yesterday we put down ice and water shield and then felt paper over a roof that really should have been torn up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so bad we had to be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;careful&lt;/span&gt; where we stepped, or we would have gone through. Rotted to the core!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was nice helping out. It always makes me feel good to do things and help out when I can. Especially because my dad is in a wheel chair. That's another subject for another day. They only call me when they need something though. Don't get me wrong, I love to help them, but it would be nice to have my parents call me up and say, "Hey &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;George&lt;/span&gt; hows the writing going?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They never &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;mention&lt;/span&gt; my writing. I've told them many times, but for some reason it doesn't register in their minds. Funny thing, isn't it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to helping them out. I love to help my Mom, but my dad on the other hand is a stubborn pain in the ass. A drunk as well, but those two, (stubborn pain in the ass and drunk) are synonymous. I don't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;particularly&lt;/span&gt; like helping my father. If anything goes wrong he blames everyone else but himself. He himself never makes a mistake and never has.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could never have made a mistake in my whole life. What I want to know is, deep in the depths of his mind, does he really buy his own lies? Does he really know about the mistakes that he has made. Is that why he drinks and drinks? So he can forget them. Does he drink to quiet that voice inside him. The voice inside all of us. The voice inside me too. That voice that helps me write. It can be a dark voice, a depressing voice sometimes, but that voice gives me the edge I need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;suppress&lt;/span&gt; that voice, I want to nurture it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How the heck did I get here anyway?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-6869513987410199029?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/6869513987410199029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=6869513987410199029' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/6869513987410199029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/6869513987410199029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2008/10/helping-hand.html' title='Helping hand'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-8285613889810852483</id><published>2008-10-28T17:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T18:07:46.477-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Back! Hopefully!</title><content type='html'>Well, I'm back to my blog. This time, I'm going to stick with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, let's see what I have to say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week I went into my daughters class to talk about my writing. It went well. Her teacher had a couple parents come in and talk about how we come up with our ideas and how we approach it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I decided that I would take a story from begining to end. A short story from scratch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I did, and this is what I came up with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Vines of Wisteria&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By: George A Ingram Jr. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Come on, let’s go!" Connor said then looked over his shoulder at Angelina. It had been his idea to go through the woods and now he realized it had been a mistake. The underbrush was thicker than he had thought. Sharp thorns snagged their clothes and the tangle of vines slowed them down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Connor could hear the Bhorg as they closed in behind them. By the sound of it, he guessed there was over a hundred heading in their direction, and there was no chance to resist. Connor stopped and doubled over to catch his breath. His lungs burned. "Their close, I can hear them." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;"They won’t stop until they capture us!" Angelina said, urging them forward. &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Connor knew she was right even though he hated to admit it. He had gotten in over his head and wondered how he thought a ten year old boy could save a world. He was one boy, what could one boy really do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;“We need to keep moving Connor.” Angelina tugged at his arm again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;They were running now, pushing through the tangle of thorns, blocking their faces from the scratchy vines that clawed at their eyes like a flock of crows. Connor looked ahead, and through the trees he could see sunlight. It looked as if the forest opened up and just maybe they could out run their enemies. &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Bhorg, a fat blob of a beast, resembled a wild boar on two legs. Their teeth protruded up from their bottom jaw, and their slimy snout oozed clear putrid mucus. From the looks of their bodies Connor could tell they weren’t built for speed, and that fact might be their only hope. But that was only if they could get to open land to out run them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Look.” Connor said, pointing ahead. “I think it opens up.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Keep moving.” She replied without looking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The sound behind them was increasing. It was a roar of snapping limbs, grunts, and the clatter of metal against armor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The thought of dying reminded Connor that he missed his family. For the first time, in the last four days he regretted coming here. He missed his Mom, Dad, and even his pesky sister. It had been almost four complete days since he had traversed here, and it had taken him all four to find Angelina. But now that he had freed her from the cage, she wasn’t any better off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Come on Connor!” She tugged at his arm again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Connor looked up and realized they were almost clear of the underbrush. With one last push they tumbled out into the open. That was when he realized things were much worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Stopping only a few feet from plummeting to their death, they were standing on the edge of a cliff. It was the largest natural gap Connor had ever seen. Barley able to see the other side, it looked like a gap of nothingness. What Connor had thought was an open field was nothing but open air. He looked down where his feet balanced only inches from the edge. It was miles to the bottom. The Grand Canyon, which Connor hated because of his fear of heights, was nothing compared to this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Connor turned in the direction the Bhorg was coming in. He turned again, stepped closer to the edge and looked over. There was no ledge or even a crevice they could climb onto. Just sheer rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Connor turned to Angelina. “What now?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Angelina looked calm. She gazed out at the open air and smiled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;This frustrated Connor even more. He huffed over to where she stood. “What’s the matter with you? Don’t you see what were up against?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;“You’re the one that’s supposed to be saving me!” She shrugged her shoulders.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;“I guess I should have just left you in the cage then….to fend for yourself!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;“I would have been better off!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Angelina crossed her arms and turned to face the cliff. The wind blew at her hair and fluttered it around her shoulders. She was pretty, but Connor didn’t want to admit that. He watched her for a moment as she stared off into the distance, then he shook his head and turned. Girls were weird!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Connor needed to face the fact that there was going to be a battle right here on this ledge. If he was going down, he would go down with honor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;From behind him he felt Angelina’s hand in his. He turned, only to see she was smiling again. This angered him. “This is serious!” His voice was nervous and heightened in the fear of what was to come. How could she be so calm? “Why are you smiling? Were going to die you know!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;“No Connor, we aren’t.” Angelina pulled him close to the edge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The Bhorg was close, within twenty feet and Connor knew at any moment they would burst through the thicket and attack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Angelina pulled him close, and then hugged him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;For a split second, Connor thought she might kiss him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Hang on!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Before Connor could react, Angelina jumped off the cliff taking him with her. The ground disappeared under their feet, and Connor realized he would much rather of been kissed. He felt weightless only for a second and then gravity took hold of them and pulled them down like a boulder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Hang on!” Angelina screamed again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Connor did as she said, although he wasn’t sure how it would help. His back was turned to the earth so he couldn’t see how fast they were dropping. However, he could see the cliff where they had been standing safely on solid ground, and that was disappearing rather quickly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then a puff of white downy feathers filled in the air above him and Connor felt the struggle of gravity against his grip. He held tighter, trying to make sense of what was happening. It only took a moment for him to realize that the set of delicate wings above him was Angelina’s. She was flying, or trying to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;He looked up at her face, only inches away from his and he could see how difficult the extra weight was for her to carry. “Can you do it?” He screamed over the rush of air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;“Yes…… I can.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Connor held on tight and remained as still as possible. Her wings stretched out over six feet in both directions and flapped against the air above him. Her white preened feathers looked soft to the touch, and Connor was tempted to reach out and touch them, but he didn’t. If he had, it would jeopardize her concentration. For a moment he wondered how close they were to being splattered against solid rock, but then decided he would rather not know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Just then Connor felt the gravity shift. Instead of the weight pulling at them, they were pulling against it. Angelina’s wings filled with air and flapped gracefully against the current that blew under them. They were gaining altitude now, they were flying. Connor looked up at Angelina’s face and saw she was smiling again. They were going to survive! At least for now anyway. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The end (for now anyway)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Let me know what you think.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Thanks,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;George&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-8285613889810852483?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/8285613889810852483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=8285613889810852483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/8285613889810852483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/8285613889810852483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2008/10/im-back-hopefully.html' title='I&apos;m Back! Hopefully!'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-1812415413289954107</id><published>2008-01-30T04:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-30T04:07:56.217-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Extra writing time!</title><content type='html'>My daughter had a two hour delay this morning.  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Yipee&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny because I look forward to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;those&lt;/span&gt; delays. When she has a delay, I shut her alarm off and I let her sleep in. This makes her happy because she can get some extra sleep. It makes me happy because I get some extra writing time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was able to get a little extra writing time in yesterday as well. When my son took a nap, I hit the keyboard. It felt good, even though I did have some stuff around the house I had to get done. Oh well.  But once I start writing, all that stuff just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;disappears&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least until I come back to reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;heah&lt;/span&gt;, who likes reality!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-1812415413289954107?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/1812415413289954107/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=1812415413289954107' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/1812415413289954107'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/1812415413289954107'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2008/01/extra-writing-time.html' title='Extra writing time!'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-4075093540257084147</id><published>2008-01-28T17:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-28T17:28:52.170-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I have a backwards week and I like Mondays!</title><content type='html'>I don't know too many people who look forward to Mondays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To me, Monday is really my Friday. Monday is the last day of my work week. I look forward to Monday night because it's when I start thinking of my writing week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't write those three days I work because twelve hours really sucks the creativity right out of your soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tonight marks the start of my writing week. I've been thinking too. That does happen sometimes. Anyway, I really have to spend more time writing and planning out my knew novel. I was discussing the idea with someone and it made me realize I have to really get into gear. I guess we will see how that unfolds.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-4075093540257084147?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/4075093540257084147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=4075093540257084147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4075093540257084147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4075093540257084147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-have-backwards-week-and-i-like.html' title='I have a backwards week and I like Mondays!'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-7914696697751755306</id><published>2008-01-25T03:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T03:49:13.816-08:00</updated><title type='text'>More writing time needed! Anyone have any for sale?</title><content type='html'>I got up late again this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4:55am&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really have to stop going to bed so late. Damn, damn damn!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall, it was a decent writing morning.  I managed to get to page 61 on rewriting. Oh, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;geez&lt;/span&gt; only 254 more pages to go. I have found that the further I go into my novel, the better the writing seems to be. I think I was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;progressively&lt;/span&gt; getting better in my style and voice as I moving along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either that or I have become less critical. I don't think that is it. I am sometimes overcritical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I'm just amazed at some of the writing that's out there. It makes me wonder how they got there. Anyway, this isn't about them, it's about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's Friday, so off to real work tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really have to squeeze more writing time in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;somewhere&lt;/span&gt;. I can't write at night, frankly my mind is tired, and truth be told, not all that sharp. Rather DULL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe during the day when my son takes a nap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only problem with that is, when he falls asleep I have all that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;time&lt;/span&gt; to get chores accomplished. I guess I just have to do what I have to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I ever want to make it, that is!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-7914696697751755306?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/7914696697751755306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=7914696697751755306' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/7914696697751755306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/7914696697751755306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2008/01/more-writing-time-needed-anyone-have.html' title='More writing time needed! Anyone have any for sale?'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-5262345273081270441</id><published>2008-01-23T03:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-23T07:29:15.125-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rewriting is like weeding the garden!</title><content type='html'>I spent my alottment of writing time, rewriting &lt;em&gt;The Waking Hour&lt;/em&gt; this morning. As tedious as it is, rewriting is more than necessary!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rewriting, is &lt;em&gt;the&lt;/em&gt; most important part of writing. Well, creation is important. If you didn't create a story, you wouldn't have anything to rewrite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, let me rephrase that. Rewriting is the most important part of the process. Rewriting is the part that seperates the published from the unpublished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know your probably saying "But George, your unpublished?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone has to start somewhere, and that goes beyond the idea. Let's just assume you aren't one of those people who say:  "I have a great idea for a book. Some day, I want to write a novel too."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those people make it sound like something you throw a to do list. Somettimes I want to tell them, that the idea is only just the tip of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;iceberg&lt;/span&gt;. Having an idea floating around the sea of your mind is one thing, but taking the next step and planning the expedition to explore that iceberg, is another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Planning the events, characters, scenes, twists, endings and making sure you have a level of suspense that keeps your reader wanting more, takes commitment. One book that I have discovered, has helped me through the process is in many ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/offer-listing/1582974225?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;tag=wwwgeorgethew-20&amp;amp;linkCode=am2&amp;amp;camp=1789&amp;amp;creative=9325&amp;amp;creativeASIN=1582974225"&gt;The Writers Little Helper: Everything You Need to Know to Write Better And Get Published&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;extremely&lt;/span&gt; handy tool in this book, is a diagram that shows how to organize your novel into ten easy scenes. It helps the writer simplify the process, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;especially&lt;/span&gt; new writers who feel daunted with the tedious task of planning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not much of a planner, and have found myself at a stand still in the middle of writing something, because I had not planned properly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enough about the book. The point I'm trying to make is that rewriting is like sanding a fine &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;piece&lt;/span&gt; of furniture. In order to get it looking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;exquisite, you have to go through a set process of sanding the wood down. Each time changing the coursness of paper, untill eventaully you have a well polished peice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;That's what I did this morning. Who knows how many more times I need to sand my work, but I'll do whatever it takes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-5262345273081270441?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/5262345273081270441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=5262345273081270441' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5262345273081270441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5262345273081270441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2008/01/rewriting-is-like-weeding-garden.html' title='Rewriting is like weeding the garden!'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-4072027461803773748</id><published>2008-01-21T17:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T17:21:28.242-08:00</updated><title type='text'>One good audio book.</title><content type='html'>I just finished  The Andromeda Strain audio book by Michael Crichton. It was actually pretty good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He puts so much research into his books, it's simply incredible. I have trouble with research, I have a problem forming it all into something that actually sounds good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's one reason love stories work for me. There isn't as much research.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I'll make it quick today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tired.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-4072027461803773748?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/4072027461803773748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=4072027461803773748' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4072027461803773748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/4072027461803773748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2008/01/one-good-audio-book.html' title='One good audio book.'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-8033303720046759205</id><published>2008-01-20T16:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T17:00:18.755-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Is the glass half full, or is it broken?</title><content type='html'>I was reminded at work today how important it is to have a positive attitude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my co-workers will always see the negative side of everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would those best selling authors be where they are if they sat down at their computers, sighed and said "I can't write. I'm not a writer. Ill never get on that list."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They would never have gotten where they are today!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I firmly believe that we become what we think about most. Seriously. If we believe that we can do something, then we can do it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Try it, with all your heart. It really works.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-8033303720046759205?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/8033303720046759205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=8033303720046759205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/8033303720046759205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/8033303720046759205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2008/01/is-glass-half-full-or-is-it-broken.html' title='Is the glass half full, or is it broken?'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-5262824210659038158</id><published>2008-01-19T16:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-19T16:42:55.780-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thin Ice</title><content type='html'>I fell on my icy walk this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, 4:00am walking down my walkway and oops, there I went. As frustrated as I was, I must admit it had to have looked pretty funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No bruises, well except my pride. Got a little angry at the ice since I was running late for work. Funny I would get angry at the ice .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work was normal. Oh by the way I unload boxes off trucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For twelve hours.......WHAT FUN!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it for today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-5262824210659038158?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/5262824210659038158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=5262824210659038158' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5262824210659038158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5262824210659038158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2008/01/thin-ice.html' title='Thin Ice'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2556246494447727645.post-5601614180444946679</id><published>2008-01-18T03:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-18T07:55:22.936-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Are you a writer?</title><content type='html'>My name is George and I'm a writer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, alright, you can stop rolling your eyes now. I know you're probably saying, "Oh wow, how groundbreaking! Another writer starting a blog."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the thing. I'm not just any writer, I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;different&lt;/span&gt;. My wife even thinks I'm different. Oh wait a minute, that's right, she thinks I'm difficult? I'm that too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway, that's another subject for another entry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to being an unpublished writer. I plan on making it big, and climbing to the top of the list. No, I don't mean the grocery list, I mean the infamous best seller list.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it's a battle, of course it is. If it wasn't a battle, then everyone would be a best selling author. I know there are a lot of self proclaimed writers out there, and you may even be one. If you are, I would love to hear from you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stick with me and you'll see it happen right before your eyes. You'll see the chronicles of George the Writer unfold right before your very eyes, however mundane it might be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to try and make a daily blog out of this, however short it might be on the weekend. Yes, I have a day job per say. I work Saturday, Sunday, and Monday for twelve hours each day. I'm not sure if I would go as far to say that it's a real job, but it pays some of the bills. Let's leave that subject at that. Maybe we can delve into the world of work another day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My writing time is slim, and will be expanded soon. I get up around 4:30-5:00am to write. This block of time only gives me about an hour or so, due to my daughter geting up at 6:15 for school. I would like to get up earlier, but latley my wife and I have discovered the Hereoes Season one and two, and have been staying up past 11:00pm to catch up before season three starts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still getting up early, but not as early as I desire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Okay Mr. George the Writer, what exactly have you written?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm currently on my second novel. My first novel, which I thought was the next great american story, turned out to have as many holes in it as a block of swiss cheese. That story, &lt;em&gt;A Ripple in the Water&lt;/em&gt;, is sitting idle now. I'll pick it back up again some day, but not now. It was a love story, as is my second novel. My current novel, &lt;em&gt;The Waking Hour&lt;/em&gt;, is in it's second/third re-write.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a few short stories I've written, and maybe I'll post them. If anyone is interested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well that's it for today. If I don't post on Sat, Sun, Mon, then I will make a submission on Tuesday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2556246494447727645-5601614180444946679?l=georgethewriter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/feeds/5601614180444946679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2556246494447727645&amp;postID=5601614180444946679' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5601614180444946679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2556246494447727645/posts/default/5601614180444946679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://georgethewriter.blogspot.com/2008/01/my-name-is-george-and-im-writer.html' title='Are you a writer?'/><author><name>George The Writer</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10845541994980595037</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sK5sd3awyHY/SdNK0vVt-4I/AAAAAAAAADE/vvqWF6glicE/S220/me.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
