Stephen King's less exciting book: "Pet Seminary"
Alright, that's out of my system. Started work on the Mythos story today. Had to find a way around Lovecraft's destruction of Innsmouth, but I managed alright. Like how it's working, especially the narrative style right now. I know, I'm breaking a few standards of new Lovecraft stuff, but this isn't really Lovecraft...it's comedy with a Mythos slant on it. For it to work I had to have a familiar Lovecraft setting known pretty widely, and Innsmouth was the best one. So...I rebuilt Innsmouth.
That's my project this week, to finish and revise this piece, then get started on the revenge story.
Plus, to start a new thing, my daughter's quote of the day.
Sophie: "I broke your fan to make all my chocolate chips!"
My babygirl is weird.
Peace,
J.C. Tabler
Showing posts with label daughter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label daughter. Show all posts
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
Delays, Delays, Delays
I will finish the Grinder story, damn it. I swear it. I just have to find two seconds to do it in. Yesterday I took the day off intending to sit down and get it out, start on revising, and start on a comedic Mythos piece that popped in my head the other day. What happened, as I was staring at the T.V. in the A.M. hours, was my friend and his wife called to tell me their car had died downtown in a parking garage after a job interview. Since Desi and I are the only friends they have that don't live in the suburbs, it was up to us. So I packed up my pregnant wife and five year old, thinking it would be a quick jump and then we could have a family lunch somewhere before I went home to work on that story.
Eight hours later, we finally had his battery replaced. Seems my buddy had dozed off listening to the radio while his wife was in her interview. It was drained flat, not even enough juice to hook tiny jumper cables up to a mouse's nipples and coax out intimate secrets. So we have to get the battery off...but it was under a stress bar and in an awkward place, and assuming it would be a jump I hadn't brought my toolbox. Back home go I, to return and find out the terminal posts are stripped, so I had to wander downtown in search of channel lock pliers. Finding and purchasing them was easy, but then the batery had to be charged by a local auto parts store, then replaced. Eight hours after setting out to give them a jump, we finally got home. I was tired, and after giving Sophie a bath went straight to bed.
So tonight, while the wife and kiddo are out at my sister's wedding shower, I'll be finishing up the Grinder story and starting revisions on it...or finishing it, setting it aside to get revised over the weekend, and leaping into the first draft of my Mythos story, as I have another story being outlined right now, and the Truck Stop Story is waiting to be written still. I can't slow down now, I'm already a week behind schedule.
Oh, yeah, as a sidenote, I got a job with Humana Insurance in their Medicare Customer Service department. I can't talk about the pay, but I can say it's enough that "We ain't po' no mo'."
Now, to devour my McDonald's.
Peace,
J.C. Tabler
Eight hours later, we finally had his battery replaced. Seems my buddy had dozed off listening to the radio while his wife was in her interview. It was drained flat, not even enough juice to hook tiny jumper cables up to a mouse's nipples and coax out intimate secrets. So we have to get the battery off...but it was under a stress bar and in an awkward place, and assuming it would be a jump I hadn't brought my toolbox. Back home go I, to return and find out the terminal posts are stripped, so I had to wander downtown in search of channel lock pliers. Finding and purchasing them was easy, but then the batery had to be charged by a local auto parts store, then replaced. Eight hours after setting out to give them a jump, we finally got home. I was tired, and after giving Sophie a bath went straight to bed.
So tonight, while the wife and kiddo are out at my sister's wedding shower, I'll be finishing up the Grinder story and starting revisions on it...or finishing it, setting it aside to get revised over the weekend, and leaping into the first draft of my Mythos story, as I have another story being outlined right now, and the Truck Stop Story is waiting to be written still. I can't slow down now, I'm already a week behind schedule.
Oh, yeah, as a sidenote, I got a job with Humana Insurance in their Medicare Customer Service department. I can't talk about the pay, but I can say it's enough that "We ain't po' no mo'."
Now, to devour my McDonald's.
Peace,
J.C. Tabler
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Parents say the darndest things
Tonight, while putting my daughter to bed, I think I summarized fiction very well.
"You're a farmer," she insisted while wriggling out from beneath Snow White blankets.
"No baby, Daddy's not a farmer," I answered, trying desperately to keep my cigarette smoke from drifting over her. I had thought of putting it out, but only briefly because a draft was winking at me from my laptop and only the constant, cutting criticism of my wife had dragged me from a cocoon of Alice Cooper and Bing Crosby and into harsh lighting. Daddy would have to go back to his writing once a story was read and a song sang, and so Daddy's cancer stick stayed clenched firmly between yellowing molars.
"You're a farmer, Daddy," she insisted again, wrapping tiny arms around my neck.
"No, Daddy's a writer," I explained, reeling for a simpler way of explaining why we didn't live on her grandparents' farm in Pennsylvania, "Writers like Daddy don't make any money, so Daddy has to have another job, and there aren't any jobs like that where Grandma and Pap live. So we live in Kentucky."
"Oh," she answered in sweet little tones, deceptively sweet, "I understand."
"So why can't we live in Pennsylvania?" my wife asked from the doorway.
Sophie screwed her face up and sighed. Her smile was dazzling, cuteness and insolence in a wrapper of innocence.
"Because Daddy's a bad writer," she answered as I choked on cigarette smoke and tried to get my wife to stop laughing.
"You're a farmer," she insisted while wriggling out from beneath Snow White blankets.
"No baby, Daddy's not a farmer," I answered, trying desperately to keep my cigarette smoke from drifting over her. I had thought of putting it out, but only briefly because a draft was winking at me from my laptop and only the constant, cutting criticism of my wife had dragged me from a cocoon of Alice Cooper and Bing Crosby and into harsh lighting. Daddy would have to go back to his writing once a story was read and a song sang, and so Daddy's cancer stick stayed clenched firmly between yellowing molars.
"You're a farmer, Daddy," she insisted again, wrapping tiny arms around my neck.
"No, Daddy's a writer," I explained, reeling for a simpler way of explaining why we didn't live on her grandparents' farm in Pennsylvania, "Writers like Daddy don't make any money, so Daddy has to have another job, and there aren't any jobs like that where Grandma and Pap live. So we live in Kentucky."
"Oh," she answered in sweet little tones, deceptively sweet, "I understand."
"So why can't we live in Pennsylvania?" my wife asked from the doorway.
Sophie screwed her face up and sighed. Her smile was dazzling, cuteness and insolence in a wrapper of innocence.
"Because Daddy's a bad writer," she answered as I choked on cigarette smoke and tried to get my wife to stop laughing.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Curiosity Killed the Hog
Updates, updates everywhere...
Alright, let's see...doing the final edit on "Parable of Judas" tonight and getting it sent off to garner a rejection from Age of Blood and Snow. After that, I have this idea of a little girl and homemade, highpowered "hog grinder" (not sure what would work for that...) that I want to get on paper, edit, and submit to Black Garden. I should be hearing back this week on my Unspeakable Horrors submission, though I'm leaning towards another rejection. Once all this is done, I want to start fleshing out an idea I had not too long ago, see if there's a story or something longer behind it.
After this rush is done, I'm going back to work on the Long One again for a bit. I can't juggle two projects at once, not with the kiddo and wife and job search. On that front, I have a face-to-face interview next week with Humana for a call center, Medicare customer service slot. Not the best job in the world, but it'd pay the bills for now and the benefits package up there is great.
Let's see, things still out....
"Colburn Men"
"Dead Air"
"No Tell Motel"
"Tribe of Harry"
"Demon Whiskey"
"Weekend Trip"
"It Wonder Me"
"Fragile Obsession"
"Linquistic Prescription"
Also, there's a truck stop story outlined and just waiting to see page that'll start after I write on these anthology submissions.
Now, to head over to KFC and pick up dinner, cause I don't feel like cooking tonight.
Peace,
J.C. Tabler
-Oh yeah, almost forgot. Picked up a Maine Coon last night from a rescue operation. Named him Ambrose, as in Ambrose Bierce. I'll get a picture of him, Hemingway, and the rest of our zoo up as soon as I can figure out how to work my camera. Technology, though art not my friend.
Alright, let's see...doing the final edit on "Parable of Judas" tonight and getting it sent off to garner a rejection from Age of Blood and Snow. After that, I have this idea of a little girl and homemade, highpowered "hog grinder" (not sure what would work for that...) that I want to get on paper, edit, and submit to Black Garden. I should be hearing back this week on my Unspeakable Horrors submission, though I'm leaning towards another rejection. Once all this is done, I want to start fleshing out an idea I had not too long ago, see if there's a story or something longer behind it.
After this rush is done, I'm going back to work on the Long One again for a bit. I can't juggle two projects at once, not with the kiddo and wife and job search. On that front, I have a face-to-face interview next week with Humana for a call center, Medicare customer service slot. Not the best job in the world, but it'd pay the bills for now and the benefits package up there is great.
Let's see, things still out....
"Colburn Men"
"Dead Air"
"No Tell Motel"
"Tribe of Harry"
"Demon Whiskey"
"Weekend Trip"
"It Wonder Me"
"Fragile Obsession"
"Linquistic Prescription"
Also, there's a truck stop story outlined and just waiting to see page that'll start after I write on these anthology submissions.
Now, to head over to KFC and pick up dinner, cause I don't feel like cooking tonight.
Peace,
J.C. Tabler
-Oh yeah, almost forgot. Picked up a Maine Coon last night from a rescue operation. Named him Ambrose, as in Ambrose Bierce. I'll get a picture of him, Hemingway, and the rest of our zoo up as soon as I can figure out how to work my camera. Technology, though art not my friend.
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