Tag: Novella

Log 256 ~Incorrigible Wills, Insatiable Infatuations~

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Well, today, I wanted to sound intelligent; I should try that at work or better yet saying anything at all. Only all I have is three and four-letter words and not the nice kind, so I’m looking for grander. Incorrigible Wills, Insatiable Infatuations.

Friday, March 13, 2020

Log 256 ~Incorrigible Wills, Insatiable Infatuations~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so I can afford a massive dictionary and thesaurus. So ask me why I’m using such big words for other than listening to Dark Notes. How about reading The Gargoyle when I’m not falling asleep? Don’t take that as a criticism of Andrew Davidson’s Masterpiece. As the song goes, “work sucks, I know;” I’m exhausted, and the book tumbled down to my chest. To think I can go to sleep with this HUMMING. I saw some power company out and about today, but they didn’t fix whatever it is, my madness.

Like the stories, I’ve been paying attention to these many days. Of course, we could talk about my obsession with alliteration. Nope, to quote another song, “sex and horror are the new Gods.” Lady Sophia, you know that’s what I’m all about in life. On the FEAR front, do you want facts or fiction? If we choose fiction, let’s go with The Walking Dead. I told Indiana Gone I’m discombobulated and why? There is Eugene’s love life, The Battle For Hilltop, Judith’s first human kill. Fact is, here and now, everyone is talking about Coronavirus (COVID-19). Yes, I am still quite entertained, which I shouldn’t be right? Lady Sophia, this is my bread and butter; all my favorite stories are the end of the world. It depends in some instances if we talk about a single life knowing alteration forever.

“It is an awesome feeling to know you are about to change someone’s life forever.” ― Tomorrow, When the War Began (2010)

“whoever saves one life, save the world entire.”

“Lust is to the other passions what the nervous fluid is to life; it supports them all, lends strength to them all ambition, cruelty, avarice, revenge, are all founded on lust.” ― Marquis de Sade

Being a writer, isn’t that what I want to do somehow? I’m writing, or should I say not writing my story, which now needs a new name, but Cherry will still be front and center. Not like I am going to work on it tonight, why bother lying. Speaking of lying, I’m still not with my new infatuation. Where do I even begin; with Math? How about Wish giving me all sorts of ideas. Between the rain, reading Siren, and trying to drink more water. No wonder swimsuits keep popping up. More stuff for the submissive or dang it buying a submissive. I keep going with more books. As I said, I’m into Dark Notes, and in The Gargoyle, remember the Narrator lost some of his “parts.” So much stress. And I am barely hanging on with everything Lady Sophia.

The pain in my life is always labeled, To Be Continued. I’m trying to write out Incorrigible Wills, Insatiable Infatuations.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 252 ~Heart Hurts More Than Body~

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My Ma would tell me to go easy with all the seasoning salt. I’ve got quite a long history with women, plus I have my furry kid, I haven’t had a heart attack yet, but I know all about broken hearts. Heart Hurts More Than Body.

Monday, March 9, 2020

Log 252 ~Heart Hurts More Than Body~

Hundred And Twenty-Seventh Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, if only because I refuse to see a doctor. Not because I’m afraid. Indeed in this time of plague with the Coronavirus (COVID-19), I’m excited. Now I know that doesn’t sound right, and it shouldn’t, not until there are zombies. Okay, I’ll stop, I know I’m not funny. I’ve never laughed so much until it hurts. Madam Justice, I’m not one for self-harm. Fists at drywall, STUPID things while people watch. Giving into FAPPING (it’s Saturday). Anyway, my body takes a lot, but what about my heart?

Most recently, what I said about Cherry and I don’t mean my novella. I speak my heart to you and the others Madam Justice. No secrets, but you and I both know that’s a lie. If I told you everything, then we would see the end, and that’s how you know I’m not suicidal. Still, it happens the same way; I try to talk to one girl, I speak innocence to another, I don’t tell one more and wham. I’m having a “Harriet the Spy” moment because it’s like they weren’t supposed to see that. I put my heart out here so the body can keep going. The thing is nobody wants my heart. I think that’s why I’ve been down as of late. If I don’t write out how I am, the body keeps it in, and I “mess” up, horny, hatred, heartfelt, whatever.

Women though SIGH, let’s talk about something else that hurts my heart, My Dæmon. My little boy is getting older; he’s bumping into walls, avoiding his walks on cold days, sleeping more. Then again, I’m in bed, and he only wants to be near his Dad. I’m still not working on my stories, and I miss them—what a waste of the day. Somebody took my shift at the Day Job and how did I spend it, Madam Justice, lying here looking at the usual. Even my FEAR of my father doesn’t have me doing anything. Okay, so hurting my friends or them getting hurt, Indiana Gone told me she got punched in the face. My little boy and my writing, what more do I love in this world. The man in the mirror that is such a waste that it hurts to witness myself.

Only the body doesn’t quit, fingers, eyes, ears, dang humming, Heart Hurts More Than Body.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 250 ~I’m Not Sleepy Will~

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I do stay up way past my bedtime though, like my furry son, I am much too old to make things so simple anymore, but when my head hits the pillow, there are no ifs, and or buts, now about living… I’m Not Sleepy Will

Saturday, March 7, 2020

Log 250 ~I’m Not Sleepy Will~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and for One Shining Moment, I fought back sleeping. A small victory, but I’ll take it. Call it being horny, feeding on hate, or as Faith would say Hubris. Yeah, Lady Lu, I still miss playing Far Cry 5, and I’m a bit scared to pick it up again. Story of my life right, as I told Indiana Gone, Depression, but can I call it that if I know what it is right off the bat. Picking up a controller is the least of my worries; my feet, my head, my addiction, it’s like I’m toxic.

Everyone running around saying, “don’t touch your face” I know what I’m trying not to touch. Besides that, my pillow, my punches, and my passions. Again why do you think I’m still up? Yeah, I paid $20.00 to keep watching movies, and I don’t regret it, Lady Lu. Now that also goes for picking up Fast Food because I would get conked out in moments. Anger takes a lot out of you, and it’s what I feel most of the time. I’m burning out throughout the workday. Still, when it comes to accomplishing something meaningful. Well, today (Thursday), Cherry told me about one of the lines of my novella. “Some men are baptized in the blood of the battlefield.” I wish I could say I was so deep on some level and out of 7,000 plus words, which looks sad.

To be in such a state of mind Lady Lu. Do I regret any of the words I’ve written out of anger this week? I believe I will know at some point, but as for now, like sleep, I think not. Here’s another thing about sleeping; I would be dreaming at this very moment. My motivations often speak enough about living your dream. The idea is that most days are a nightmare, and that’s where the Depression comes in Lady Lu. I spend my days searching for another universe to lose myself in; today, I finished another one. Not one of mine mind you but The Five by Lily White. Now that book is going to bring “sweet” dreams of the wrong sort as always. It does beat being awake, though, but here I am trying because, as I read once, SIGH, “Hell is repetition.”

But I’m not dead yet, and I’m Not Sleepy Will.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 249 ~Will And His Writes~

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What’re 1200 words between friends, nothing at all, so I might as well be writing on the wall of a bathroom stall or the tile of my shower, and it’s not like I’m in a rush to read. Will And His Writes

Friday, March 6, 2020

Log 249 ~Will And His Writes~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but not for long if I behave like last night. It wasn’t sweat, blood, and tears; I was spilling. At this point in my life story, I’m too lazy even to write excuses. Once again, I’m worried about NaNoWriMo, but at least I’m not asking questions anymore. Not to “those” people, and I was whining to everybody else last night (Tuesday). A depression bender but more wasted words and how I hate wasting words. Don’t laugh, Lady Sophia, but then again, I go from having too many critics right to zero.

So what words do matter? The last wasn’t a word, but an oval, I voted on Super Tuesday. Well, the only names I knew were those going against President Trump. Nobody wants to hear this, but the country is going to Hell anyway despite everything. Next would be updating my “counter,” you know the one. Yes, I broke down once again, but I was stressed out. Being out in the world, people were ticking me off. Now I could say so many violent words, Lady Sophia. The terms that will get me in trouble, though “Dirty Old Man,” and “Teen Tennis Star.” Then there are the words that I have to be ever so careful in choosing. It beats silence, but again I’m done being a “BETA” reader. Lady Sophia, it’s like NERVE, are you a Watcher or a Player.

Then explain to me why I wasn’t playing last night with anything other than, well, you know. I still need to come up with the next chapter, which will feature my character “Bridgman.” Who’s going to read it though, Indiana Gone, Cherry, ha? What about writing two sections today, yeah I’m not funny, but I’m not working either. I didn’t send money for my “sexy” investment. Cash is usually always burning a hole in my pocket. At the same time, I struggled to write a note to get out of working SHOES. It doesn’t matter, though. Nobody’s taken the shift yet, and do I need someone texting. No more messages from Norton or H&R Block, but somebody is still trying. I can’t get that music out of my ears. Stuff I don’t want to hear or see, my writing, keys pounded on, another few alarms.

I know what I want to do okay, so why not, Will And His Writes.

I Will Have No Fear

Log 245 ~Pretending Is Optional, Not Requisite~

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One more story so I can pretend to be a writer, I can say I have more time, but if I don’t do anything with it, and I’m starting back listening to my motivations as if I believe I will be inspired. Pretending Is Optional, Not Requisite

Monday, March 2, 2020

Log 245 ~Pretending Is Optional, Not Requisite~

Hundred And Twenty-Sixth Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now, or so I pretend as such. You know Madam Justice, I’ve never been a fan of that saying, “Fake it ‘til you make it.” Well, my motivations say otherwise. The law of attraction, positive affirmations, my current novella. At the moment, I’m unsure because sitting right here on this loveseat; I don’t have to pretend. The “dang” HUMMING is driving me crazy. In the shower this morning, I was breaking down, if you know what I mean. Going out into the world, I was scared to death.

As the song goes, “If I could be like that.” Again I think of my hero Dennis Hof. He was a Pimp, parent of a dog, and he penned a book. Two out of three right, Madam Justice? Sometimes I walk around like I’m a pimp, but as I’ve been saying a lot these days, things are falling apart. What about my story, am I giving up already? Last night I wanted to, no question. I’m three parts in, and I don’t know where I’m going. In chapter four, Minister Bridgeman is, of course, starting to give away his “holy man” ways duh. What about being a rich man at all? How much money did I send today, gorging myself? Didn’t I have a conversation about not spending money on a new Kindle and an HP Printer? Relax, I didn’t because even pretending to be reasonable is something else entirely.

I pretend to be, well, I’m not even a comedian anymore, I’m only the punchline. What’s sickening though is at the Day Job, I’m upset that I didn’t go in today. It’s (Saturday, February 29) LEAP DAY, which of course, I spaced on. Am I pretending to be a writer, Madam Justice? Getting back into my motivations, one says you’re either a writer or not. I’m not pretending to be a writer, but instead that anything I put down makes perfect sense. I’m living in the moment, and I don’t know what any of this means. My pretending is becoming real but only the worse things. If I may quote another song, “Why do the things I hate come so naturally.” One more reason I sleep all the time. But isn’t that, well “pretend that we’re dead.” I’m not suicidal.

When will I stop pretending Madam Justice, better yet how? Pretending Is Optional, Not Requisite.

I Will Have No Fear

Lesson 125 ~Should “Words” Be Infectious~

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My mind seems to be one whiteboard when what I need is a white room for my madness because it’s been a long time since I have allowed myself to go mad and I suppose I need the convenience to answer the question. Should “Words” Be Infectious

Friday, November 3, 2017

Lesson 125 ~Should “Words” Be Infectious~

Hey Lady Sophia,
No Fear… except I’m becoming too relaxed, too popular and mediocrity can be addicting but not infectious as my words should be. My words, I suppose at the very least it’s something that I’m actually reading again which means I should have another review in how long?

Speaking of reviews, I hate being used, seriously I’m not a big deal or anything but the book offers keep rolling in and my reviews keep rolling out and how do I know I’m being used. Yes, I’ve been on a dark erotica kick for a while and now I’m reading stories about everything from horror stories to boxers… a sports book who knows, who cares. Apparently, these authors don’t they just want reviews on Amazon so their words can spread, text, emails, word of mouth which brings me to the lesson of what the hell have I done honestly.

I’m a freaking carrier of words, a zombie, a Walker, a Z, and my only job is to ingest all I can just so I can spread more words everywhere else and I don’t know maybe I’m just frustrated. How I survived the month of Sapphire and made it through October and now it’s NaNoWriMo season and what do I have to show for it… you know this month is only going to get worse. It’s not like I’m helping manners, do you know I almost forgot to write today, maybe I was preparing so much yesterday but I was just slacking off today and the only word that came to mind today was infectious.

Aren’t there enough zombie stories and what about my novella… that wasn’t meant to be 50,000 words of course and technically it should be done already. The words seem so small when you actually think about it, 2,000 words a day when I was actually doing 5,000 for my novel “Some Assembly Required”, remember that.

I thought about imposing a sort of a tax on myself for every time I get a hard-on, I write a hundred words, can you imagine with my libido how many words that would be daily? So what about tomorrow, I have such grand plans at the moment but what will I be doing; see I honestly don’t want to write about those ideas either.

You know what the solution is don’t you, the cure, “in my own words” because the answer is so simple right, Should Words Be Infectious?

I Will Have No Fear

Lesson 118 ~Penny For My Thoughts~

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I get paid for people to tell me I’m not working hard enough, I’m replaceable, and I don’t know anything, and the sad thing it’s more than any word has ever gotten me which is probably why I’m still doing it. Penny For My Thoughts

Friday, October 27, 2017

Lesson 118 ~Penny For My Thoughts~

“A penny for my thoughts, oh, no, I’ll sell ’em for a dollar
They’re worth so much more after I’m a goner” The Band Perry

Hey Lady Sophia
No Fear, at least I don’t think it’s fear that’s making me waste my time, waste my money, and if I listened to a selective minority, waste my talent, and that’s truly something I have no fear of, potential. If anything that goes on my hated words list, next to interesting and the sound of my own name, people talking about potential and maybe it’s mean to say but not everybody has that and the people that do are told this because other people want to use them, not my parents though.

“No. No, no no no. Fuck you, you don’t owe it to yourself man, you owe it to me. Cuz tomorrow I’m gonna wake up and I’ll be 50, and I’ll still be doin’ this shit. And that’s all right. That’s fine. I mean, you’re sittin’ on a winnin’ lottery ticket. And you’re too much of a pussy to cash it in, and that’s bullshit. ‘Cause I’d do fuckin’ anything to have what you got. So would any of these fuckin’ guys. It’d be an insult to us if you’re still here in 20 years. Hangin’ around here is a fuckin’ waste of your time.” Ben Affleck, Good Will Hunting

Speaking of mean, that might be a reason that I haven’t really been writing in days, besides my hated work schedule and that’s something I would rather yell in their faces. No, my novella and you know that is simply a study in me being, petty and cruel to two people, not to mention selfish, I’ve been all sorts of selfish in everything from, writing, to texting, even tonight when I should probably be begging, I’m good at that, I’m ignoring her too. Words cost us Lady Sophia and maybe I’m choosing to be a miser once again but I’m actually losing more than I’m gaining and hell how many artists become famous when they’re dead; why I never have any pressure from my olds.

No real pressure from anybody, not that I miss some writers’ constant emails, a few book reviews and yeah nobody is asking for my words anymore. I will keep my word to one, I am a man of my word or so I like to imagine but it just hurts you know to see everybody else continuing with their work and how about mine, how long did it take me to work on my blog last night? NaNoWriMo is coming up as well and didn’t I specifically say I wanted to take part in that but as always I write excuses, I feel like I’m in third or fourth grade again, one of those years I got by doing maybe zero homework but the excuses?

You can’t run from destiny or maybe I’m just lost which is my most common theme, we learn to walk just so we can imagine lounging all day, we talk but are in search of quiet, we drive as we dream of the sky. Is that it, I mean it’s no secret I want to be rich and any singer, athlete, or artist who says they do it strictly for passion and would be more than willing to stay as they are before the fame is lying, seriously to be heard…

Am I worth be listened to, Penny For My Thoughts

I Will Have No Fear

Lesson 104 ~Infinite Lives, Cheat Codes~

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Do I really want to “cheat” with writing, if anything it is the truest sing I know, even if what I write is fiction, at least to a certain degree no doubt? “Infinite Lives, Cheat Codes” when I should be writing something more substantial, maybe?

Friday, October 13, 2017

Lesson 104 ~Infinite Lives, Cheat Codes~

Hey Lady Sophia,
No Fear, though this is a video game reference, infinite lives, and cheat codes, I haven’t picked up a controller in months though, years possibly. I’m a sucker for a good story though which is what brings us here, with the term good loosely defined of course.

I swear one day, not someday I’m going to write down every single reason I want to be a writer, but wouldn’t it be better spent writing out my story. Shouldn’t I be working on my novella, “Degrees of Falling” that, of course, is a working title, I’ve also so considered’ “Hot Air” and why did I start working on this story again? Maybe I’m getting all warmed up for NaNoWriMo, do you think I’m honestly going to go for it this year Lady Sophia?

Too bad I can’t write excuses for a living, the latest being my hands are exhausted, seriously they are so sore, and I wish I could at least tell you I punched someone in the face or that I have been doing something productive, other than making money, do I even have a rule about making money. Isn’t that the point of all this, is I was writing to make money then I suppose it wouldn’t be worth it, not to mention what sort of man would that make me; perhaps an educated one if I were reading at least. What about if I ever get famous, I’m going to have to be signing books, so would I complain about my hands then, that’s funny.

Unlike my novella, no wait that can be awfully funny too that I think I’ll ever get anywhere with it, yeah I’m talking to you because I need to talk about my work but I still don’t have to be positive about it, do I? That’s yet another reason that I want to be a writer because maybe I got it all wrong you know, I speak about immortality but maybe you build a life, you lose it, and repeat.

It certainly would explain how weak I get after each go-round or maybe I’m just channeling “Happy Death Day” another review I should be writing but I’m barely keeping up here. Should the question here be, what have I written today, besides talking to you, *sigh* there is always tomorrow indeed, Infinite Lives, Cheat Codes.

I Will Have No Fear

Lesson 092 ~Is Creativity An Orphan~

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I never meant to leave my creative spark behind or maybe it’s running away, it’s the reason Braxton still has a leash and a big fence, but now I think the ideas are back the voices… am I crazy? “Is Creativity An Orphan”?

Sunday, October 1, 2017

Lesson 092 ~Is Creativity An Orphan~

Hey Lady Lu
No Fear and no ladies either, really what am I still talking to you for… I’m just kidding but I didn’t kid properly if I hurt your feelings. Anyway today’s lesson, I was thinking of that saying ‘necessity is the mother of invention’ but what is my need and that’s easy, someone’s got to hear my story.

I’m still going about it all half-assed but didn’t Martin Luther King Jr have a dream, maybe I should feel bad about using such a great man’s concept but I can dream too and now I’m starting to formulate a plan. For example, you know that brothel I always dreamed about owning, like Dennis Hof, I brought it up yesterday, another one of my Second Circle Creations ideas, I was thinking I could do that with my writing, talk about going mad, seven different characters inside my head. I go crazier by the day don’t you think and what does this have to do with the lesson… Bereft of family, friends, and a world I don’t like a writer has become an orphan and when the words are embraced, maybe we don’t feel so alone?

Which brings me to “Degrees of Falling” I’m still planning on writing that novella, ‘six degrees of separation’ might be a more apt title but since we know what I’m writing it about… Maybe I owe my ISP a big favor today because the service has been sucky which is actually forcing me to focus on my writing but our chat is still going nowhere am I right or am I right? How about the idea that I kill off most of my characters but I don’t want to give my latest story away now that the thought is finally coming to me, and it might actually be accomplished, right?

Some of the best writing is supposed to come from pain and suffering or so I’ve heard, it’s part of what I believe makes me a good dominant; I’m submissive to my writing, damn near a masochist when it comes to what writing actually does to me. In turn, I become the dominant of my words and my feelings, and while I rather not give ‘some people’ the satisfaction I finally know what to write.

So what have we learned today besides the fact that I must really be missing porn “Runaways 10 (Kitty Marie)” to be precise but she was a runaway, not an orphan, but when creativity strikes I don’t know today it just felt like I was resurrected with it, ideas in my head so again I ask Is Creativity An Orphan.

I Will Have No Fear