Indiana Jones Does Not Jaywalk
I don't have much time to talk this morning. The class periods are shortened, which means that my time for myself has been cut down right along with it.
Oh, and I will be talking to an invisible audience. It's just how I get things done. In case you were wondering? You're the only one reading this, far as I know. Yes, you. Whoever you are.
Anyway, shortened class periods.
You take with one hand, and get the other one chopped off by a seven hundred year-old trap. I suppose.
So I'm sitting here thinking about the past, about the future, and about the moral baggage of law. It's a combination that makes me wish I'd had a little more breakfast to settle this hungry stomach of mine, but let me do my best to explain.
First there the matter of the past. I have always wanted to be a writer, ever since I first found out that the words people put on paper can not only carry information but can actually cause pictures and thoughts in the minds of others. In case you're curious, this was a revelation I had at about the age of four.
It's been a while.
Like most people with a dream like that, though, I fell into the lie of "I'll do it tomorrow" and have lived in that lie for almost twenty years. I've dabbled. I've scribbled. I've impressed with short stories that were much too short, or first chapters that were also final chapters. Coming as no surprise to others in my situation, or who have actually managed to get things done, this is not a satisfactory or productive stage in the writer life-cycle.
So the last year saw some progress, some change.
Which brings me to the future. Over the next several months I will be completing a written work. It isn't a novel, although that'll come next if I can beat down this door first, but a book for a self-created roleplaying game. Some of you may not know what that phrase ("roleplaying game") refers to; no worries, it'll be explained when I have more time.
I also, being the bold decision-maker that I am this past few months, will be opening up a bookstore within the next three years. I know the risks, I'm learning the lay of that particular land, I have sought advice from several quarters (and am taking advice, with a polite smile, from people who aren't in a position to give it with any sort of authority), and I will be doing it.
So if you keep reading, and I keep plugging at this ugly lettered board, for that long we'll both see some changes.
I'm also musing on some silly conversation about law, drug testing, and civil disobedience. Maybe I'll touch on that later. Maybe not.
Oh, and I will be talking to an invisible audience. It's just how I get things done. In case you were wondering? You're the only one reading this, far as I know. Yes, you. Whoever you are.
Anyway, shortened class periods.
You take with one hand, and get the other one chopped off by a seven hundred year-old trap. I suppose.
So I'm sitting here thinking about the past, about the future, and about the moral baggage of law. It's a combination that makes me wish I'd had a little more breakfast to settle this hungry stomach of mine, but let me do my best to explain.
First there the matter of the past. I have always wanted to be a writer, ever since I first found out that the words people put on paper can not only carry information but can actually cause pictures and thoughts in the minds of others. In case you're curious, this was a revelation I had at about the age of four.
It's been a while.
Like most people with a dream like that, though, I fell into the lie of "I'll do it tomorrow" and have lived in that lie for almost twenty years. I've dabbled. I've scribbled. I've impressed with short stories that were much too short, or first chapters that were also final chapters. Coming as no surprise to others in my situation, or who have actually managed to get things done, this is not a satisfactory or productive stage in the writer life-cycle.
So the last year saw some progress, some change.
Which brings me to the future. Over the next several months I will be completing a written work. It isn't a novel, although that'll come next if I can beat down this door first, but a book for a self-created roleplaying game. Some of you may not know what that phrase ("roleplaying game") refers to; no worries, it'll be explained when I have more time.
I also, being the bold decision-maker that I am this past few months, will be opening up a bookstore within the next three years. I know the risks, I'm learning the lay of that particular land, I have sought advice from several quarters (and am taking advice, with a polite smile, from people who aren't in a position to give it with any sort of authority), and I will be doing it.
So if you keep reading, and I keep plugging at this ugly lettered board, for that long we'll both see some changes.
I'm also musing on some silly conversation about law, drug testing, and civil disobedience. Maybe I'll touch on that later. Maybe not.
posted by The Masked Brute at 10:03 AM
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