Those students who did show up aren’t firing on all cylinders.  I don’t really blame them; most students are repeaters and therefore have to sit through virutally identical lectures to the ones last quarter.  Of course, if they had passed the first time they could be rid of me and vice-versa.  Ah, well, so it goes.

Mondays and Wednesdays are my good days, when I teach Reading 098 and English 098.  The students tend to be slightly more intereted in the material.  No one goes crazy for reading skills (myself included) but we get to read some interesting passages.  We’re covering the basics of poetry in ENG 098, which I confess has gotten rather stale.  I’ve taught some form of 9th grade English for going on ten years.  That’s a lot of metaphors, Emily Dickinson, similes, and Langston Hughes.  It’s hard to muster up a great deal of enthusiasm for the topic, but I’m trying.

This all leads me to realizing that while I still enjoy being in the classroom, I need a different subject.  I don’t know what else I’d get certified in, unless it was in reading.  I like learning about how people learn to read, though not as much as I used to.  I confess to liking the idea my wife had recently: sell the house, pay off some debt, and let me stay home with Sam.  And another kid, if things go as planned.

I read my friends’ status updates on Facebook, and many of them are taking vacations, going out and doing things, cooking out, trying different hobbies, etc.  Some of them have children, and I just don’t understand how they have the time or energy to do anything except work, run a house, and raise a child.  And then some of make crafts, and run five thousand miles a day, find cures for AIDS and cancer…and I just do my thing.  Which is work, run a house, and raise Sam.  It’s enough for me, and then some.

I did have a mission this morning, which involved me driving to Chiefland and stocking up on supplies that I left at home.  Strike that–I left everything at home.  In the rush of packing, taking care of the cats, and keeping Sam occupied, I left my bag.  I always take my laptop bag with me when I travel, and I cramp it full of all my necessities (laptop, glasses, contact stuff, medicine, Ipod charger, books, etc).  And I just left the blasted thing, which I’ve never done before.  I didn’t realize I was without it until we pulled into Cedar Key around 9:30, at which point I nearly had a seizure.  For those who don’t know, I have a touch of OCD.  Okay, maybe more than a touch, and certainly heavier on the obsessive side than the compulsive. 

I just stared in the back of the van, willing my bag to reappear.  “Can I help with anything?” my mother-in-law Barbara asked.

“No,” I sighed.  “I left my bag.  It has everything.”

“Oh,” she said and, wisely, went back into the house and left me to have a fit.  After cursing and banging my head against the van, I trudged inside and drowned my sorrows in wine. 

I can certainly live without the contents of my bag until Monday, but I’m still extremely irritated with myself.  And so it goes…

It got me thinking that I should start submitting again.  I haven’t sent anything out in five years or so, but had near success when  did…meaning I got handwritten letters of rejection rather than the form letters.  I came close with a story entitled The Old Ways that made it out of the slush pile at Realms of Fantasy.  The assistant editor passed it (and said she liked the story) but the editor ultimately passed on it.  I sent the story other places, which also rejected it, and I retired it.  I also retired my fourth novel Seven Feet Small after a literary agent said, “I liked it, but didn’t love it enough to offer you a contract.”  Close, but no cigar.

And then we moved from Virginia to Savannah and I began teaching, Sam was born, and life tumbled down a different rabbit hole.  But maybe it’s time to start sending stuff out again.  I shall ponder this.

I didn’t work on this book this weekend for a few reasons, one of which being Bioshock 2.    I loved the first game, and I was a little worried that the sequal wouldn’t hold up.  Luckily, I was wrong.  There aren’t as many surprises as the first one, when I was wondering around Rapture for the first time, dealing with Splicers, and learning how to use plasmids.  After a moments of playing, though, I was pulled right back in.  Before I knew it, an hour had already passed. 

Not all games qualify as art–or even as interactive stories–but the Bioshock series does, as well as Dead Space and Mass Effect.  After I finish this game, I’ll move onto Alan Wake, which I understand has a fantastic, engaging story.

Speaking of stories, time to get back to mine while by son is entranced.

I haven’t done any writing today (except this) and might get to it tonight.  My brain is pretty fried, though.  I’ve been living inside this story for two weeks now–longer, really, if I go back to when I first had the idea of Ellen and Hannah.  I’m enjoying it, but I suspect I need a wee break.  Of course, I say that and now I’ll start on chapter two.  We’ll see.

If you’re curious, head over to Ellen’s blog and check it out.  I hope to post the rest of chapter one today.

I’ve gone back to the drawing board, but don’t regret spending so much time on the backstory.  Without it, I don’t think I would have had such a clear picture of Ellen and Hannah.

So what’s the premise, you ask?  I’m going to keep this one close to the vest for now, in case it changes again.  The essentials of the story and the characters are still intact.  Ellen and Hannah’s mother murdered their father, they’re being raised by Aunt Sandy, and witchcraft still plays a role. 

If nothing more, I’m thrilled to be spending so much time writing and planning a story.  As I’ve indicated before, this hasn’t happened to me since high school when I wrote my first novel.  Since then, I put in time writing the other books, but this one feels different.  I love my Ray, Delores, and Stella Maude from Love You Infinity, and I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for Buster and the gang from Seven Feet Small (shoot, I even still think about Llana from Shadowcult, and Rinauk, Nienna, and Darlowe from To Mend a Kingdom).  The characters from this book demand a little more of my attention than the others did…or so it feels.

I still like and agree with Stephen King’s advice in On Writing that encourages writers to crank out at least 2,000 words a day.  I have to be careful, though, that I don’t just crank out 2,000 words…I’ve got to make sure that I’m following the story’s path, and that those 2,000 words are decent.  In the past I just wrote and wrote and trimmed later.  This time, I’m going for a balance between daily output and quality.

I guess Ellen should Tweet, too. She would do that. Ellen loves technology almost as much as she does being a Radford. Hannah is quite the opposite. In fact, Ellen’s latest post talks about her frustration over Hannah refusing to get on Facebook. And neither of them are rea.

They’re coming to take me away, ha ha, hee hee….

Blurb: Hannah doesn’t want to be a witch, unlike her twin sister Ellen, who can think of nothing better. They are Radford girls, and the same witchcraft that drove their mother insane is in their blood. On the eve of the girls’ eighteenth birthday, Ellen casts a spell that sends shockwaves through the tiny town of Sparke, Georgia, and attracts both the attention a powerful coven and an ancient order of priests dedicated to hunting witches. The Bloodstone Coven wants their power; the Apostles of the Thorn want their death. The Radford twins must embrace their birth-rite as Daughters of Guinevere and decide where their allegiances lie…before time runs out.
 
Logline: Twin sisters Ellen and Hannah Radford become pawns in a battle between a powerful coven of witches and an ancient order of priests.

More to come….

So I’m writing another book.  Actually, it’s the first one I’ve written since I first began teaching high school at Bradwell Institute back in 2003.  Since then, I’ve changed schools multiple times, and even got out of teaching for a spell and worked at the Savannah Bee Company.  Pouring honey was fine for a summer, but it all came crashing down (literally) when I tumbled off the ladder and broke my left foot.  Daniel Day Lewis was not impressed…har har.  And so I began my odyssey into hell, otherwise known as Scott Alternative Learning Center, for three years.  I escaped with most of my mind intact and settled into a much better situation at Savannah Technical College, working in the Gateway to College program.

Things have calmed down.  Sam is three now, and is able to tend to himself much better.  I’m fairly content with my job…at least I’m not breaking up fights anymore, or being cursed at by my principal or students.  But I think the biggest thing for me was letting the dream of writing go.  About two months ago, I began thinking (foolishly, as it turns out) that I could get into Savannah College of Art and Design, specifically in the sound design program.  I talked with the department head and faculty members and epressed my interest in entering as a graduate student.  I already have a M.A. and thought perhaps I could take some entry level classes for two quarters and then proceed with the program.  During the midst of this, I said, “I’m done with writing.  Done with poetry, done with stories and novels.  All of it.” 

Well, the SCAD thing didn’t work out.   When I sat down with someone to review my portfolio, he seemed surprised that I had no background in sound design (thought I made this very clear to everyone I talked to).  The professor suggested that I apply as a non-degree seeking student and take classes to catch up, but non-degree seeking students don’t qualify for scholarships or financial aid.  So the dream ended right there.  Perhaps I could consider the non-degree path if I were younger and didn’t have a family to support…and if it didn’t cost so much money.  SCAD is a good school, but man, is it expensive.

After wallowing in self-pity for a few days, an idea for a story popped into my head.  This happens often, but lately I had been shoving them out of my mind.  No more writing for me!  None of it, I say!  But the idea wouldn’t go away.  It kept rolling around.  Characters began keeping me up at night, the tell-tale sign I’ll be working on a book soon.  They keep at me until I start getting their stories out.

I’ll discuss the book in the next post, and I’d appreciate any feedback.  In any case, stay tuned if you’re curious about the writing process.  I’ll try and be more diligent about keeping this blog up.

Here’s another stupid thing: I blew a blood vessel in my eye from sneezing too much and too hard. Apparently, it’s a common thing for those of us afflicted with allergies. Two nights ago, I fell into a sneezing fit the likes of which haven’t been seen since my grandfather went on a sneezing tear and scared the cat up the drapes. Papa was a helluva sneezer. He’d let one, two, or twenty rip, and my grandmother would fly into the living room, hands over her ears, shouting, “Bruce, contain yourself!” But Papa’s sneezes could not be contained, and nor can mine. So I woke up the next day and went to put my contacts in only to discover a bloody eye peering back at me in the mirror. Between sneezes, I managed to watch Paranormal Activity the night before, and for a split-second wondered if I’d spent the night in a trance gazing down at my wife’s body, only then to lure her downstairs and slaughter her with the help of the demon who’d been plaguing me since I was eight.

Well, smiles all around, because I’m not possessed. I’m just a man who can’t open a pack of crackers and who sneezes so loud and hard he ruptures blood vessels. It’s sexy time, folks…please restrain yourselves.

In other pointless news, I’m addicted to the video game Mass Effect and its aptly named sequel, Mass Effect 2. In Mass Effect, you play Commander Shepard, a soldier who has discovered a nefarious plot that threatens the entire galaxy…but no one listens to him. Typical. So he assembles a team and goes after the bad guy. The role-playing aspect of the game is amazing; so much so that I’m going back and playing the first one as a girl this time to see how it changes things. Do we dare hope for video game girl-on-girl action? That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it, you perverts?! To make it spicier, if cupid shoots an arrow Shepard’s way, she might hook up with a humanoid woman. Video game girl-on-humanoid-female-species-action! “Dear Penthouse Forum, I never though this would happen aboard the Normandy…”

What else? In the months between the last post and this one, the world spun madly on. President Obama came to Savannah Tech and snubbed most faculty and students (ten faculty members were chosen by lottery), my son continues asking me existential questions like “Why is this my cup?” and “Why is the moon the moon?” The quarter came and went and a lot of my students failed, so I’ll see their bright, shining faces in two weeks. Well, their faces aren’t bright…and they’re surely not shining unless it’s from the effects of too much weed. But come what may, I’ll be onboard the ol’ Goode Ship Gateway to College and try to teach reading and English. Woot!