nevermore_66

Welltime for a short rest.

I sent the last of the first draft. I kind of compromised it a bit, condensed it so that I could have something to turn in. So its kind of like my prototype epic poem. My model-T epic poem.

Even so, in total, it is 266 pages.

resssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst

Dispair or Something Like It

I got stuck. I choked. Realistic expectations told me I couldnt get all the pages done by dawn. Practical concerns drowned out my voice. I thought I lost my talent. I thought maybe I never had any. I found it difficult to breathe. Then I put on a pirate hat. Felt silly.

Its helping

Credit card bills...blah!

My mouth is like a circus but Im always in debt
-Cherry Poppin Daddies, Pink Elephant

I'm flat broke but I don't care
I strut right by with my tail in the air
-Stray Cats, Stray Cat Strut

Strong to the Finish?


Im fading fast
and its past three in the A.M.
and I still have dozens of pages to write
and I think Im staring at my double fisted cans of PEPSI
the way Popeye might look at a can of spinach, after getting his ass kicked.

This news story made it into a chapter of my book:

EXPLODING TOADS

In the real world, it is still an unexplained mystery. In my fictional world, there is an Aesop reason (if Aesop was a little more twisted) for the events.


Just for grins, heres what Josh is listening to, while he writes his dark epic poem heres the first 25 tracks I get...
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So I took this semester off campus, to finish my thesis and a draft of the novel for the White Wolf contest, at my parents house. It sucks to say this to a stranger, YeahIm living in my parents house But, for those who know me and my folks, they know hanging around here is not a bad prospect.

My mom, for a few weeks,...
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Its been well over a week of waking up after dark. Its not the same kind of delirium as jet lagbut its definitely a first cousin it definitely sees jet lag at the Sunday family barbeque.

(So I just wrote my shortest bit of Flash Fiction today, a story in 37 words. My former record was 55 )


THE COOK BOOK
Joshua Alan Doetsch


Have you ever heard the word satire? I asked.

"No, he said.

And that explained the copy of A Modest Proposal open on his kitchen table and the little legs and hands bobbing out of his stewpot.

Today I was awoken by a call from the Chicago Tribune.

Hello?

Is this the Wauconda Funeral Home?

I look around my room and notice the various skulls, crossbones, and skeleton carving dcor.

no.

The Shadows in my head haunt the web...

I wrote long and hard tonightand I think I spotted Lord Byron, smiling from a dark corner of the room. Its funny when you are randomly surfing the weband you come across and image that you thought was just in your head

the place Im at, in the story of my epic poem, at this very moment...
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