I apologize in advance for this contemplative trance....




the orginal drawing was inked by Brian Raddatz in 1996?
later, I traced it, modified it, and recolored it

Monday begins the National November Writers Month (aka NaNo) contest whereby; American writers who wish to be tasked with the challenge of writing a fifty thousand-word novel in thirty days, they can be. It is an exercise of self-discipline and in production writing. To complete the task, all one need do is pen an average of 1666.67 words each day. If the average Microsoft word page contains 500 words (single spaced), then all I need to do is create three and one-third pages each day. But since I take one Sabbath day a week, I don’t have thirty days to write this novel. What I have is twenty-six. Thus, my daily tally instead is 1923.1 words, which equals 3.85 pages per day.



...arrg...you're spam on my frying-sword...

I am going to give it a go. Two weeks ago, I was planning a Bukowski-esque story in first person narrative about a man who has flipped burgers for a fast food fifties style vegan drive through restaurant for over a decade. But last Monday, at a Pilot Books prompted write a new scene, from a story I’ve been fashioning since 1988, came into my consciousness.

All this past week, in-between performing as Dylan Thomas at the Dead Poet Slam (and failing to win the hundred-dollar top prize) and a successful improvisational performance at Hollow Earth Radio as well as sending out ten resumes a day in search for administration labor, I sequestered myself away into another world. I apologize to my friends and acquaintances in advance if I happen to ignore you in this contemplative introverted trance.

...grrr going to get you...

  In 2006, before I went to work for Seattle Door & Window as their sole office administrator and bookkeeper, I penned about fifty pages of this story. But after my free time was eaten up by employment, volunteer work, socialization, and exhaustion, my pen ran out of ink. Last year, two months before my place of employment went out of business, I spent two weeks in my characters and I discovered a path to incorporate my studies of obscure esoteric knowledge into this tale.



...I'm a warrior...errr...don't make me angy...
(you won't be here tomorrow if you do)

This story (which the potter is molding on the spinning wheel of mind) is about two warrior mind scientists Enki a genetically engineered hybrid born on earth 12,000 years ago of the Enochian race and his bastard son Brakoog of Barinza born in the Andromeda Galaxy. This idea first manifested itself in a creative writing stream of consciousness exercise when I was a student at Chemeketa Community College in Salem, Oregon, in September 1988. I am hoping that this time of my life, I will be able to fully give birth to the story. I hope that I will be able to lay lines down that are at least a shadow of the style Dylan Thomas, Charles Bukowski, JRR Tolkien, CS Lewis, and Isaac Asimov had when scrawled out their lines on the page.



Since the interview on Thursday night, I’ve immersed myself so fully into this story that last night I dreamed in character. I only hope that when I turn the key on Monday that the lines will flow out of me like a river of coherent light.