The Invisible Miracle

Tomorrow will mark one week of not having power.

Yes, I mean electricity. That invisible miracle that we so often take for granted.

A whole week of not having power is such an eye opening experience.
We have managed though.
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 invisible miracle, there's no heat.

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.

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 trek an hour away just to take a shower, but it's better than being a stink.

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.

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.

Hopefully by tomorrow. That's what they say.

Oh I want some of that invisible miracle back!

Please!

Pooping Reindeer

Yeah, you read it right.

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 Wal-Mart Store.

Yeah that's right.

I was at work today (yes I work at a Wal-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.

You lift the tail and Ta-Da, you have a small round piece of candy. Wow, Yummy!

Have we run out of tasteful things to sell, and now we must sell out our children's stories?

Wow, A Pooping Reindeer!

What next, an Elf snow cone machine, lemon flavored!

Tree Time

We went to Home Depot today, the kids and I.

Spent over two hours in there. They did very well.

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.

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.

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.

Jorgie wanted to know if it was legal to do that or not.

She's funny.

Well I'll keep everyone poted on our progress with the treehouse.

Maybe even some pictures.

A New President and a New Future

A new President!

I am so excited, but I'm scared too. Scared of the future.

Shouldn't we all be. On the dawn of one of the biggest financial fiasco 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.

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.

We have to do it. You and I.

How do you think Barak Obama got to be president.

We did it. You and I.

So let's make some changes together. We can do it together.

You and I!

Helping hand

I went over my parents house yesterday. It's the second time I've gone over in the past two weeks and that 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.

It's so bad we had to be careful where we stepped, or we would have gone through. Rotted to the core!

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 George hows the writing going?"

They never mention my writing. I've told them many times, but for some reason it doesn't register in their minds. Funny thing, isn't it.

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 particularly like helping my father. If anything goes wrong he blames everyone else but himself. He himself never makes a mistake and never has.

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.

I don't want to suppress that voice, I want to nurture it.

How the heck did I get here anyway?

I'm Back! Hopefully!

Well, I'm back to my blog. This time, I'm going to stick with it.

Okay, let's see what I have to say.

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.

So, I decided that I would take a story from begining to end. A short story from scratch.

So I did, and this is what I came up with.

Vines of Wisteria

By: George A Ingram Jr.

"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.

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."

"They won’t stop until they capture us!" Angelina said, urging them forward.

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?

“We need to keep moving Connor.” Angelina tugged at his arm again.

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.

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.

“Look.” Connor said, pointing ahead. “I think it opens up.”

“Keep moving.” She replied without looking.

The sound behind them was increasing. It was a roar of snapping limbs, grunts, and the clatter of metal against armor.

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.

“Come on Connor!” She tugged at his arm again.

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.

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.

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.

Connor turned to Angelina. “What now?”

Angelina looked calm. She gazed out at the open air and smiled.

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?”

“You’re the one that’s supposed to be saving me!” She shrugged her shoulders.

“I guess I should have just left you in the cage then….to fend for yourself!”

“I would have been better off!”

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!

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.

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!”

“No Connor, we aren’t.” Angelina pulled him close to the edge.

The Bhorg was close, within twenty feet and Connor knew at any moment they would burst through the thicket and attack.

Angelina pulled him close, and then hugged him.

For a split second, Connor thought she might kiss him.

“Hang on!”

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.

“Hang on!” Angelina screamed again.

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.

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.

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.

“Yes…… I can.”

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.

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.

The end (for now anyway)

Let me know what you think.

Thanks,

George

Extra writing time!

My daughter had a two hour delay this morning. Yipee!

It's funny because I look forward to those 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.

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 disappears.

At least until I come back to reality.

But heah, who likes reality!

I have a backwards week and I like Mondays!

I don't know too many people who look forward to Mondays.

I do.

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.

I don't write those three days I work because twelve hours really sucks the creativity right out of your soul.

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.

More writing time needed! Anyone have any for sale?

I got up late again this morning.

4:55am

I really have to stop going to bed so late. Damn, damn damn!

Overall, it was a decent writing morning. I managed to get to page 61 on rewriting. Oh, geez 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 progressively getting better in my style and voice as I moving along.

Either that or I have become less critical. I don't think that is it. I am sometimes overcritical.

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.

It's Friday, so off to real work tomorrow.

I really have to squeeze more writing time in somewhere. I can't write at night, frankly my mind is tired, and truth be told, not all that sharp. Rather DULL!

Maybe during the day when my son takes a nap.

The only problem with that is, when he falls asleep I have all that time to get chores accomplished. I guess I just have to do what I have to do.

If I ever want to make it, that is!

Rewriting is like weeding the garden!

I spent my alottment of writing time, rewriting The Waking Hour this morning. As tedious as it is, rewriting is more than necessary!

Rewriting, is the most important part of writing. Well, creation is important. If you didn't create a story, you wouldn't have anything to rewrite.

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.

I know your probably saying "But George, your unpublished?"

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."

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 iceberg. 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.

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.

The Writers Little Helper: Everything You Need to Know to Write Better And Get Published

One extremely 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, especially new writers who feel daunted with the tedious task of planning.

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.

Enough about the book. The point I'm trying to make is that rewriting is like sanding a fine piece of furniture. In order to get it looking 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.

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.

One good audio book.

I just finished The Andromeda Strain audio book by Michael Crichton. It was actually pretty good.

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.

That's one reason love stories work for me. There isn't as much research.

Well, I'll make it quick today.

Tired.

Is the glass half full, or is it broken?

I was reminded at work today how important it is to have a positive attitude.

One of my co-workers will always see the negative side of everything.

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."

They would never have gotten where they are today!

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!

Try it, with all your heart. It really works.

Thin Ice

I fell on my icy walk this morning.

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.

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 .

Work was normal. Oh by the way I unload boxes off trucks.

For twelve hours.......WHAT FUN!

That's it for today.

Are you a writer?

My name is George and I'm a writer.

Okay, alright, you can stop rolling your eyes now. I know you're probably saying, "Oh wow, how groundbreaking! Another writer starting a blog."

Here's the thing. I'm not just any writer, I'm different. My wife even thinks I'm different. Oh wait a minute, that's right, she thinks I'm difficult? I'm that too.

But anyway, that's another subject for another entry.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I'm still getting up early, but not as early as I desire.

"Okay Mr. George the Writer, what exactly have you written?"

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, A Ripple in the Water, 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, The Waking Hour, is in it's second/third re-write.

I have a few short stories I've written, and maybe I'll post them. If anyone is interested.

Well that's it for today. If I don't post on Sat, Sun, Mon, then I will make a submission on Tuesday.