Something overcame me yesterday as I sat down to continue work on the first/rough draft of my novel.
On an average day I'm good for likely four hours of writing, split-up with breaks to give my eyes a break from the the searing burn of the LCD computer monitor. Plus, when I sit to write for long periods, my writing tends to suffer as my caffeine buzz wanes.
Tentatively I planned on completing the rough draft of, "Waterglade," by the end of the week, which when sandwiched with personal errands and honey-dos would possibly be quite a task. Shortly after setting to work the words flowed like fine wine, and my mind kept throwing-up line after line. It was surreal, and I've only really been in 'the zone' in that sense a minimal number of times.
My eyes begin to burn as I tore through my self-imposed 'eye breaks', but I pressed on, determined to finish ahead of schedule. After six straight hours of grinding, I relaxed in my chair with a splitting headache and sore fingers. The first draft of "Waterglade" was complete.
My initial impressions of "Waterglade" aren't great, which is similar to everything I've ever written. After I press the last knob on the keyboard I immediately think that the entire thing sucks. Logically I overcome that hurdle, but the lingering doubt teases me every time I think about it. Matter of fact, this morning at 3:00 a.m. when I was taking our new puppy, Simon, to use the restroom, I stood on the back porch half asleep and scratching my butt and thinking, "Why in the hell did he kiss her there?" It's a tortuous labor of love, this writing thing.
Next on the agenda is getting back to "The Plunge." I will begin the process of rewriting the first draft next week, which will take an undetermined amount of time as I will be returning to the land of the cubicle after a long hiatus. Today I'm having "Waterglade" printed and will get it to my editor shortly. There are so many ideas kicking around in my head that I want to get to, but I'm going to force myself to be focused until these two are finished. Both of them need a ton of work before I submit them to publishing houses.
On a different note, I engaged in a conversation with someone recently about whether or not I consider myself an author, because you know, I kind of claim to be one by the very title emblazoned on this blog. I've never really thought about it, but upon being asked that question in an almost condescending manner I took to the dictionary. An author is defined as the following:
AUTHOR
a. The writer of a book, article, or other text.
b. One who practices writing as a profession.
2. One who writes or constructs an electronic document or system, such as a website.
3. An originator or creator, as of a theory or plan.
4. Author God.
By definition it seems to me that I can consider myself an author based on letter 'a'. No, I do not consider myself an 'author' per se, as I haven't been paid for my writing since college. I also have no illusions concerning my odds of being published. I realize that it's a long and hard road filled with miles of rejection. I am also prepared to deal with that, and I don't ever see myself giving up on my dream. So to answer the question, no, I do not consider myself an author. Though if I wanted to, it appears that by definition it's very much within reason.
Look for updates soon concerning "Waterglade" and its theme. Here's a hint: Check the new picture on the title of the blog...
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
The End is Nigh
I guess all good things must come to an end.
My time with the FDIC is coming to a close as they are in the process of moving their existing loan portfolio to auction. What that means is that yours truly is soon to be without his cushy time-and-a-half salary job that entailed me doing very little if not nothing. Soon it will be back to the grind...more details to come on that...
Now I am a man possessed to finish the rough draft of my first novel, which is so close to happening I can taste it. And boy, does it taste good, kind of like the first sip off of a freshly opened bottle of beer. I began writing it right before I finished "The Plunge," as I wanted to get a few ideas down before they were replaced by the all-important knowledge of who managed the construction of the second Death Star (Moff Jerjerrod).
I'm working as fast as I can while preserving a consistent quality of writing. When I get rushed, the writing turns to a Stephanie Meyer level of trite-garbage, which is a level just a tad too low for me. I hope to have an update on my first novel within the next few days.
My time with the FDIC is coming to a close as they are in the process of moving their existing loan portfolio to auction. What that means is that yours truly is soon to be without his cushy time-and-a-half salary job that entailed me doing very little if not nothing. Soon it will be back to the grind...more details to come on that...
Now I am a man possessed to finish the rough draft of my first novel, which is so close to happening I can taste it. And boy, does it taste good, kind of like the first sip off of a freshly opened bottle of beer. I began writing it right before I finished "The Plunge," as I wanted to get a few ideas down before they were replaced by the all-important knowledge of who managed the construction of the second Death Star (Moff Jerjerrod).
I'm working as fast as I can while preserving a consistent quality of writing. When I get rushed, the writing turns to a Stephanie Meyer level of trite-garbage, which is a level just a tad too low for me. I hope to have an update on my first novel within the next few days.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
A Taste of "The Plunge"
Good Sabbath, everyone. As promised, below is a brief excerpt from "The Plunge." It will likely be rearranged and changed from its current state, but this will give you a glimpse into the work.
"The day I decided I was ready to fall in love started out like any other mundane, typical day. My teeth were brushed, my shirt stiffened with starchy-goodness and my morning coffee oozed out of the top of the cheap lid of the cup that my employer had given me as marketing material. For me, marketing materials meant, “Keep four for yourself for every one you give to the customer.” I already had a dozen of these “traveler’s mugs”, two-thousand pens, four sunglass clips and three paper clip holders. Not to mention an alarm clock reserved for our premiere clients. Let me tell you, nothing says premiere like a three-dollar clock that keeps time about as well as Jack Bauer after his second fifth of Johnny Walker Black.
Humid air drowned my lungs with a mix of pesticide, car emission and depleted ozone. Sweat poured out of my skin after one minute of walking downstairs and getting into my company-provided 2006 green Toyota Camry. Yes, it truly was a day like any other.
Women for me provided a variety of obstacles. The first and most obvious being a substantial drain of resources, namely the financial kind. I had never been the type to think about the future. It always seemed so far off and it loomed as a place that deep down I never thought I would go save for Doc Brown’s Delorean and a hoverboard. That’s not to say that I thought the Grim Reaper would want to do an early lunch, it’s just that I had way too much fun spending all of my own money on me. Not to mention, the copious amount of free time that wraps a single person in a cocoon of happiness is absurdly satisfying.
For some reason on a fine July morning I reckoned that enough was enough, and I felt ready to take the final, ultimate step into love/matrimony/alleged unhappiness for the rest of my natural life. It’s kind of really hard to explain the sensation that overcame me, like a vision from the heavens. Just the Christmas before, my mother told me how she remarked to a friend that I would never get married because I was so in love with myself. Mom knew me best, and was totally correct in her observation. Being alone provided non-stop respite and a kind of freedom impossible to achieve confined in a relationship. I never thought I needed a woman or anyone else to make complete me or that I contributed to society. I felt right as rain with my XBOX, high-definition television, and Star Wars toys.
Though deep down I still felt like the core of and the most important thing in the known universe, I looked around and saw the other men who had undoubtedly felt like me at one time who had taken the plunge into eternal love. See, that’s what I wanted for a small blip on my life’s radar. I wanted the generic wedding band, the Japanese mid-class gas-efficient car, the nagging wife, whiny kids and car seat. Nothing sounded sweeter than gaining twenty pounds, losing my hair, commuting three hours a day and coming home to a house in disarray where free personal time suffered complete extinction.
I had a meeting on the morning of that fateful day with some persons in my industry at an IHOP in College Station, Texas. Nothing says intense business negotiations like the Fresh ‘n Fruity and coffee. Their words hovered above the room, not making it close to my ears. I found myself in a euphoric mood to find love, which had previously been oxymoronic coming from my brain.
I agreed that I would actively pursue a life of love, though finding wasn’t like picking a penny off a scorching sidewalk; you had to do some work. Rolling up my sleeves and tossing my fragile ego into the dating arena wasn’t the only concern, I would need a venue to hunt my cunning prey. Bars are an exercise in futility, with the variables too mixed for consistent success and often smoke-ridden sleaze factories. College would have served as the prime venue, as it is the height of female cavorting. By missing the college boat, I risked being thrown into the dating life of a young professional. I was forced to move into another arena. I knew what had to be done. When I returned to my bleak little apartment I was going to do the one thing that I had always poked fun at. Yep, I was a loser. I was going to join an online dating site."
"The day I decided I was ready to fall in love started out like any other mundane, typical day. My teeth were brushed, my shirt stiffened with starchy-goodness and my morning coffee oozed out of the top of the cheap lid of the cup that my employer had given me as marketing material. For me, marketing materials meant, “Keep four for yourself for every one you give to the customer.” I already had a dozen of these “traveler’s mugs”, two-thousand pens, four sunglass clips and three paper clip holders. Not to mention an alarm clock reserved for our premiere clients. Let me tell you, nothing says premiere like a three-dollar clock that keeps time about as well as Jack Bauer after his second fifth of Johnny Walker Black.
Humid air drowned my lungs with a mix of pesticide, car emission and depleted ozone. Sweat poured out of my skin after one minute of walking downstairs and getting into my company-provided 2006 green Toyota Camry. Yes, it truly was a day like any other.
Women for me provided a variety of obstacles. The first and most obvious being a substantial drain of resources, namely the financial kind. I had never been the type to think about the future. It always seemed so far off and it loomed as a place that deep down I never thought I would go save for Doc Brown’s Delorean and a hoverboard. That’s not to say that I thought the Grim Reaper would want to do an early lunch, it’s just that I had way too much fun spending all of my own money on me. Not to mention, the copious amount of free time that wraps a single person in a cocoon of happiness is absurdly satisfying.
For some reason on a fine July morning I reckoned that enough was enough, and I felt ready to take the final, ultimate step into love/matrimony/alleged unhappiness for the rest of my natural life. It’s kind of really hard to explain the sensation that overcame me, like a vision from the heavens. Just the Christmas before, my mother told me how she remarked to a friend that I would never get married because I was so in love with myself. Mom knew me best, and was totally correct in her observation. Being alone provided non-stop respite and a kind of freedom impossible to achieve confined in a relationship. I never thought I needed a woman or anyone else to make complete me or that I contributed to society. I felt right as rain with my XBOX, high-definition television, and Star Wars toys.
Though deep down I still felt like the core of and the most important thing in the known universe, I looked around and saw the other men who had undoubtedly felt like me at one time who had taken the plunge into eternal love. See, that’s what I wanted for a small blip on my life’s radar. I wanted the generic wedding band, the Japanese mid-class gas-efficient car, the nagging wife, whiny kids and car seat. Nothing sounded sweeter than gaining twenty pounds, losing my hair, commuting three hours a day and coming home to a house in disarray where free personal time suffered complete extinction.
I had a meeting on the morning of that fateful day with some persons in my industry at an IHOP in College Station, Texas. Nothing says intense business negotiations like the Fresh ‘n Fruity and coffee. Their words hovered above the room, not making it close to my ears. I found myself in a euphoric mood to find love, which had previously been oxymoronic coming from my brain.
I agreed that I would actively pursue a life of love, though finding wasn’t like picking a penny off a scorching sidewalk; you had to do some work. Rolling up my sleeves and tossing my fragile ego into the dating arena wasn’t the only concern, I would need a venue to hunt my cunning prey. Bars are an exercise in futility, with the variables too mixed for consistent success and often smoke-ridden sleaze factories. College would have served as the prime venue, as it is the height of female cavorting. By missing the college boat, I risked being thrown into the dating life of a young professional. I was forced to move into another arena. I knew what had to be done. When I returned to my bleak little apartment I was going to do the one thing that I had always poked fun at. Yep, I was a loser. I was going to join an online dating site."
Saturday, February 21, 2009
The Craft
Sometimes it's just too damned hard to put down the XBOX controller to do anything productive.
I was tentatively 'laid off' from my job as a Educational Finance Marketing Representative (Read: Loan Peddler) on November 7th of 2008. The news hit me like a ton of ACMEs. The thought that I would switch careers always lingered on the tip of my brain, but it remained caged in its place to keep me from confronting what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Somehow and really without me noticing, the first 27 years sped past and left whirling around like a dust devil on top of myself. Instead of looking at myself I buried my head in a pile of videogames and movies.
So there I stood, freshly married (October 11) and soon to be out of a job. The writing had been smeared across the walls for months, as the bank I worked for failed to meet federal reporting guidelines while the economy took a collective crap all over itself. I didn't know what to do. For the first week, I did nothing but park my ass in smelly gym shorts and play nine hours of XBOX per day until my wife came home. It was my therapy, and it kept me from recognizing that shit could very well hit the fan.
Luckily and by the grace of God the FDIC decided to keep paying me (at nearly double my salary), while I ran through Fallout 3. That shallow solace left me feeling empty after a few weeks, and before I knew I felt more worthless than the dollar after the Obama Stimulus Package. Then I remembered my book.
I began writing my first book in the winter of 2007 right after my wife and I became engaged. As I trolloped through the predetermined status quo exercises of courtship and wedding planning, I realized how ridiculous the entire process was, not to mention frustrating, too. So I began to put my frustrations down on paper, and before I knew it, I had enough of a start to make a book out of it.
Writing started slow at first, and I would go through spurts of creative flow before putting the book down for weeks at a time. Time became shorter as my wife and I spent more time together, and soon I chose to play videogames, drink beer and watch television instead of working on my book.
With my book stalled and my career dead as well, I took a long look in the mirror after catching Rocky on AMC one afternoon. Sylvester Stallone's tale of an everyman doing something great lit a fire inside of my belly, and I decided then and there I would do everything in my power to finish my book.
From there on out I set to work everyday, and instead of playing XBOX or Playstation I took to writing instead. It became my passion and drive to do something great. As fun as videogames were, they in the end were a path to nowhere that yielded nothing other than an escape from the reality that I was wasting my life. In three short weeks I finished the rough draft of my first book, "The Plunge." Elation ripped through my insides, and the sense of accomplishment was intoxicating. Sure the damned thing had grammar errors, organizational and flow issues, but by God I had finally done something that I dreamed of that didn't constitute a group of elves, dwarves and hobbits.
Armed with my flashdrive containing hours of my blood and sweat, I journeyed to Kinko's and watched like a kid waiting for Santa as the portly employee printed my 80,000 word manuscript, bound it, and laid two copies of it in my hands. Like Rocky Balboa I had gone the distance with a personal beast and tamed it. All those hours of pounding the meat (that's what she said) and chasing chickens paid off.
As of today I'm still unemployed, but getting paid (still double my salary), and I've taken the last three paid months as a divine gift to get something done that would have been difficult to do otherwise. "The Plunge," is currently in edit and my first rewrite is to begin shortly. Look for an excerpt from "The Plunge" shortly on the blog.
Until next time...
I was tentatively 'laid off' from my job as a Educational Finance Marketing Representative (Read: Loan Peddler) on November 7th of 2008. The news hit me like a ton of ACMEs. The thought that I would switch careers always lingered on the tip of my brain, but it remained caged in its place to keep me from confronting what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Somehow and really without me noticing, the first 27 years sped past and left whirling around like a dust devil on top of myself. Instead of looking at myself I buried my head in a pile of videogames and movies.
So there I stood, freshly married (October 11) and soon to be out of a job. The writing had been smeared across the walls for months, as the bank I worked for failed to meet federal reporting guidelines while the economy took a collective crap all over itself. I didn't know what to do. For the first week, I did nothing but park my ass in smelly gym shorts and play nine hours of XBOX per day until my wife came home. It was my therapy, and it kept me from recognizing that shit could very well hit the fan.
Luckily and by the grace of God the FDIC decided to keep paying me (at nearly double my salary), while I ran through Fallout 3. That shallow solace left me feeling empty after a few weeks, and before I knew I felt more worthless than the dollar after the Obama Stimulus Package. Then I remembered my book.
I began writing my first book in the winter of 2007 right after my wife and I became engaged. As I trolloped through the predetermined status quo exercises of courtship and wedding planning, I realized how ridiculous the entire process was, not to mention frustrating, too. So I began to put my frustrations down on paper, and before I knew it, I had enough of a start to make a book out of it.
Writing started slow at first, and I would go through spurts of creative flow before putting the book down for weeks at a time. Time became shorter as my wife and I spent more time together, and soon I chose to play videogames, drink beer and watch television instead of working on my book.
With my book stalled and my career dead as well, I took a long look in the mirror after catching Rocky on AMC one afternoon. Sylvester Stallone's tale of an everyman doing something great lit a fire inside of my belly, and I decided then and there I would do everything in my power to finish my book.
From there on out I set to work everyday, and instead of playing XBOX or Playstation I took to writing instead. It became my passion and drive to do something great. As fun as videogames were, they in the end were a path to nowhere that yielded nothing other than an escape from the reality that I was wasting my life. In three short weeks I finished the rough draft of my first book, "The Plunge." Elation ripped through my insides, and the sense of accomplishment was intoxicating. Sure the damned thing had grammar errors, organizational and flow issues, but by God I had finally done something that I dreamed of that didn't constitute a group of elves, dwarves and hobbits.
Armed with my flashdrive containing hours of my blood and sweat, I journeyed to Kinko's and watched like a kid waiting for Santa as the portly employee printed my 80,000 word manuscript, bound it, and laid two copies of it in my hands. Like Rocky Balboa I had gone the distance with a personal beast and tamed it. All those hours of pounding the meat (that's what she said) and chasing chickens paid off.
As of today I'm still unemployed, but getting paid (still double my salary), and I've taken the last three paid months as a divine gift to get something done that would have been difficult to do otherwise. "The Plunge," is currently in edit and my first rewrite is to begin shortly. Look for an excerpt from "The Plunge" shortly on the blog.
Until next time...
Introduction
Welcome, Friends.
My name is Tom Cathey II. I am an aspiring author and formerly an aspiring musician. I suppose it's typically standard to state a mission purpose or some sort of goal for this online self-aggrandizing project. There is no purpose, per se, but this blog will hopefully serve as an outlet to keep those that may care afoot of my travails, trials and joys.
Writing has provided a persistent asylum for me throughout the years, and I've always dabbled creatively in the craft. Life continues to come at unique and interesting angles, and through experience I've created my own unique view of the way things are. I hope to share that with everyone willing to give me the time, which I know is extremely valuable. However, I do promise that it will be worth the read.
I hope to entertain and inspire in some way as I share my journey in fulfilling my lifelong dream of becoming a published author, while sharing stories and tribulations of accomplishing my goals. I enter into the fray knowing full-well that my chances are likely slim, and although I think I'm spectacular chances are that I'm overwhelmingly average at best. That said, I do know that I am capable of doing anything I truly want to, which at times staying motivated is the hardest part.
I plan to update the blog regularly with details regarding my latest projects and their status', but I can't imagine that I'll remain confined to what's going on in my life. Look for the kitchen sink, including videogame and movie reviews, social and occasional political commentary, and general goings-on.
So to all who were fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to to happen upon the blog, I welcome you to my life.
My name is Tom Cathey II. I am an aspiring author and formerly an aspiring musician. I suppose it's typically standard to state a mission purpose or some sort of goal for this online self-aggrandizing project. There is no purpose, per se, but this blog will hopefully serve as an outlet to keep those that may care afoot of my travails, trials and joys.
Writing has provided a persistent asylum for me throughout the years, and I've always dabbled creatively in the craft. Life continues to come at unique and interesting angles, and through experience I've created my own unique view of the way things are. I hope to share that with everyone willing to give me the time, which I know is extremely valuable. However, I do promise that it will be worth the read.
I hope to entertain and inspire in some way as I share my journey in fulfilling my lifelong dream of becoming a published author, while sharing stories and tribulations of accomplishing my goals. I enter into the fray knowing full-well that my chances are likely slim, and although I think I'm spectacular chances are that I'm overwhelmingly average at best. That said, I do know that I am capable of doing anything I truly want to, which at times staying motivated is the hardest part.
I plan to update the blog regularly with details regarding my latest projects and their status', but I can't imagine that I'll remain confined to what's going on in my life. Look for the kitchen sink, including videogame and movie reviews, social and occasional political commentary, and general goings-on.
So to all who were fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to to happen upon the blog, I welcome you to my life.
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