writing

Music & Writing

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Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite genre of music?
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This one’s a fun topic, especially when considering music listened to while writing. I’m definitely the sort of person to be heavily swayed by the moods in music so it can affect scenes. What I listen to for background focus music varies a lot on where I’m at in a manuscript or what’s going on in a scene, although I’m exclusively choosing some form of instrumental music. I’ve found this allows me to avoid song lyrics that might sneak their way into my dialogue when I’m in the zone.

For personal music listening, I lean toward punk and heavy metal than I do other genres, but it depends on my mood that day. There’s everything from Mongolian throat-singing to polka on my playlists. That being said, I never turn down listening to The Offspring or Aurelio Voltaire regardless of where my mind is at.

Impactful books

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Daily writing prompt
List three books that have had an impact on you. Why?
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I thought this was a fun exercise to try to get back into it. Only three? I could keep going but I tried to pick some of the most impactful books that came to mind. Happy reading! I look forward to seeing other people’s lists.

The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien – Tolkien was a big part of mine and my siblings’ childhood growing up, and this was the first book that my mother ever read to me, so it’s been a part of my life for my entire life. Love it or hate it, it’s important to me, especially now after my mother’s passing a few years ago.

Travels with Herodotus by Ryszard Kapucinski – I recommend this book highly to anyone who grew up in any sort of monoculture areas and is looking to travel and experience other countries and cultures. It’s a lovely book, and it will strike a chord if you’re a history buff. I recommend also reading the inspiration for the book’s format, The Histories by Herodotus, for deeper context.

The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov – This is my favorite Faustian tale that I “discovered” during an undergrad class titled Angels & Demons. I find this book perhaps less comforting under current events, now that we are dealing with the issues of the fascist rise to power and related disappearances of citizens in the United States that are akin to the social commentary elements of the novel. I always recommend everyone read this book at least once. It’s a haunting story that I return to every few years.

Look Who’s Writing Again

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The eruption of Mount Vesuvius in the night of 8 August 1779 Colored etching by Pietro Fabris, 1779.
The eruption of Mount Vesuvius in the night of 8 August 1779. Colored etching by Pietro Fabris, 1779.

This blog post sounds like a late ’80’s to early ’90s comedic film that would probably flop as it bored audiences to tears. Me suddenly remembering how words string into sentences for reasons other than a procedural document is probably akin to an arts film about 20 hours of paint drying.

I took a much needed break from most of the social media and the doom-scrolling on my phone and the creative spark has ignited again. I’m currently a couple of pages into the draft of a new fantasy novel in addition to the poetry chapbook I intend to self-publish this year. I also have an editor lined for the poetry chapbook after I do a few passes, I’ll be turning it over to her next month. (More details to come later on that.)

I’m honestly not interested in dark deep dives for my fiction this year, at least not right now We’ll see how long it takes before my current elf protagonist exploring a seemingly-idyllic afterlife gets bored and makes everything go off the rails. I’ll let you know if (when – ha!) it happens.

I’m doing all I can to keep the creative fires burning. We’re going to need passion, diligence, and anything that looks remotely like empathy in the next four years to survive. Maybe longer if evil prevails. Here’s to everyone whose existence has always been forcibly political and to everyone else who is just now discovering how awful that actually is to experience.

Until Next Time.

Writing Prompt: Comfort food

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Daily writing prompt
What’s your go-to comfort food?
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I can’t find or even really make my comfort foods anymore. They taste of my grandfather’s impossible, magical, garden in summer, homemade sauces that still have fresh and dirt in the flavor notes, and meatballs made from his raised hares.

Or they taste like my mother’s chicken pot pies and casseroles, or chicken and dumplings that singed my tongue due to my impatience. Fried okra, fried chicken, and greens or green beans. Pink Stuff. And no one’s version, even mine, will do anything but pale in comparison.

There are more lost examples of these old comfort foods, tied to memories, some happy, many bittersweet, even more tragic.

Memory, nostalgia, and grief are my comfort foods. I eat them regularly when I sit with my coffee and a blank document page. Then I pour out my veins and tear ducts to create something I hope is bigger than myself. Something that might make the ancestors proud. Food is fuel, after all.

Writing Prompt: “What’s Your Dream Job?”

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What’s your dream job?

I don’t dream of jobs. That being said, I do dream of positions in terms of direction and how I contribute to society. I’ve always felt fulfilled in roles that allow me to solve problems and be helpful. I seek those kind of jobs that have enough structure and clear systems to make sense, but offer room for creative thinking. I need the job that allows me space and refills my cup so that I can create on my own terms outside of work.

I dream of jobs that do not take without giving, and that can stop at the end of the workday. I like to work hard but I want energy to still play hard at the end of the day, so that I have a life outside of the hours I’ve sold to my employer. I had dreams when I was younger to work under my own terms, write and paint at home, with only my adventures to new places while traveling to drag me away from the artist’s single-minded devotion to craft.

As an adult, I definitely need stability for contribution outside my own worlds, many of which were born out of trauma and bad events. I get mental sunshine with every problem I solve, or the person I help. I craft moon shine (or moonshine) out of my thoughts put to paper or canvas. There has to be balance. I don’t think I’d be satisfied with a full-time writer or artist position, however, there’s a part of me that still would like the chance to try. I think I would need to know that what I was doing offered something essential for society. I’d be volunteering more if I felt that wasn’t the case.

The day job that funds my life and my creative investments without taking everything else is the dream job these days. Retirement one day might be nice, but I know that’s asking for a lot. I dream of not dying at work, for an employer, who gives perhaps two shits about me, and that’s only if they’re a halfway decent company. I dream of not leaving with regrets. But I am no longer in my twenties, even if I can’t quantify the two decades that passed between 21 and 41. Wisdom I can pass on, however, is that we work to live; we do not live to work. Don’t lose sight of that, even if the years fly by faster than you’re anticipating.

2023 is a Whirlwind So Far

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I’ve honestly never been one to think New Year’s resolutions are all that useful, so I’ve been focusing more on sustainability and what’s healthy for me this time around. My household has been a bit of an anomaly – those rare individuals who haven’t had the virus of the pandemic hour once, let alone multiple times as many Seattleites have.

My day job, I’d hardly call it a career at this point, is in flux. I feel both liberated and in limbo. I’m stepping into a new roll in February, I’m just not sure what it’s going to look like. I know already that I’ll be happier than I am now. I’ve taken back my creativity and I’m writing more.

I’m 9 poems and a few paragraphs into the New Year. I’m smiling more often, and engaging in true conversation with the people I care about. I feel whole again. Never stay in a position where your cup isn’t being refilled. I’ve told it to so many people; it just took me forever to figure out that this was happening to me. I’m seeking out chances to be happy and to be at a table of my own choosing.

If I can dream big impossible goals into life, can this also be the year that no bigot is given quarter or a measure of power? Literally anywhere? I don’t care if they solved the cure to cancer, made the most amazing company in the world, or wrote songs to make angels weep at their beauty. Put them back in isolated romper rooms where the only damage they can cause is to a lego structure of their own making.

I started in poetry so I suppose it’s fitting I am circling back to it while I get my breath and writing cadence for fiction back. How about the rest of you? How is the price of eggs in your corner of the world? I’m too exhausted to want to panic about what may happen with our supposed faulty supply chains. If this continues, I may look and sound more vegetarian by summer whether I want to or not. I’ll do what I can and not worry about the rest. I guess that’s all any of us really can do.

Spooky Season at Read Cat Bounce

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We’re well into October and I’ve been remiss about speaking much about my favorite time of year – the launch of autumn into winter that happens in Seattle around this time of year. Right now, we are looking at a La Nina winter starting early.

Today’s air had a crisp chill to it and that particular clean, cold, scent that I can only prescribe to winter. It’s one of my favorite smells, heralding the time of the year that I feel most alive. I’m considering pumpkins, red leaves, and what all will look like, dusted in snow.

Right now, I’m also preparing to hunker down for NaNoWriMo next month. I will be announcing the project on November 1st with a write up and more information both here and on Patreon. You will need to become a patron to read any of the work in progress during the month of November, but a preview and some basic information about the project will be posted starting November 1st.

Currently, I am watching through Twin Peaks with the spouse (and sometimes the cats) as part of our Spooky Season celebrations. We’ve also been indulging in some horror films of the milder variety as the other Mihulec is less inclined toward *most* horror films or television. Supernatural and creepy vibes have been a good compromise there, allowing for some compromise.

Depending on schedules, I think we might indulge in one of the Seattle Underground ghost tours that we didn’t manage during our first October here in the city and that definitely wasn’t an option during the time warp that was 2020. If so, I’ll let you know how that goes and which of us had a conversation with any of the many no doubt irate, confused, or annoyed ghosts who fell to their death due to poor city planning. (It’s good to know that some things haven’t changed about Seattle, eh? *bah dum tss*)

We’ve definitely got our eyes set on a small concert with The Heebie Jeebies this week, accompanied by pizza and beer at one of our favorite neighborhood haunts. Probably with a Stephen King novel each in hand, since we’ve been both been indulging in his fiction as part of our seasonal motifs.

I’ve recently started a reread of Christine, it was my mother’s favorite Stephen King novel and frankly, she is the reason I love all things creepy from Poe to Barker. I miss her, but I like to think she knows she’s not forgotten either. Not sure what things she would have preferred to be remembered for, but I grasp on to the little things that we had in common.

And you know, in the end, Mom was right about me getting into healthcare, just not in the way she might have envisioned. Clinic management is a good career fit for me and I think she’d be proud anyway, even if I didn’t wind up doing the hands-on side of healthcare where she thought I might go. She was also right that I’m still here, plugging away at a keyboard, writing. She probably would still be equally annoyed at how many unfinished manuscripts lie in my literary graveyard, awaiting revival and completion.

Finally, a Halloween/Samhain playthrough of Dead Space is tentatively in the works, in the dark for full jump scare enjoyment. I’ll be honest, Valentine’s Day was the original holiday that those playthroughs happened, but we’re trying to swap up some of our old traditions.

What are your favorite Spooky season must-dos for the next couple of weeks? And for anyone who celebrates the remembrance of lost loved ones during this time of year, what stories are you going to tell between now and November 1st? Please feel free to comment below – I really appreciate hearing from readers.

Arthritis

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Not entirely unexpected, but developing arthritis in a joint in my left hand has forced me to slow down a bit sooner than I expected with my usual tasks. I work on computers, I create on computers. I’m learning the art of slower, more gentle, typing (and gaming!) while finding new ways to function / interact.

I’m still pressing on with planning for my yearly novel project in November, although I am looking into different methods for writing while dealing with this. I may get back to some writing by hand and have it transcribed to limit the intense hours of typing after full days of typing with the day job. While braces for the joint in question help, they can’t stop what’s already happened.

For me, this all sounds less like a setback and more novel approach this way, at least to my finicky brain. If anyone has recommendations for speech-to-type software, I’m all ears and grateful for the recommendations.

Summer 2021

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Photo by Georgie Devlin on Pexels.com

We all thought 2020 was going to be the worse of it, didn’t we? How wrong we were. Since February 2020, we’ve had a long list of events that belong in a dystopian thriller loudly hammering home an anti-fascist sermon to young adult readers. I’m still numb about all of it.

We have too many Americans who never learned how to function in part of a community or a society. A self-centered cancerous mass of outright villainy and narcissistic exceptionalism. I am tired. I’m sure you are too. I had to drop, at least temporarily, some of my recent writing projects due to a distaste at addressing certain topics that, after the past year and a half, cease to bring me joy.

I’ve lost a parent. I’ve gained a great-nephew. There are more promises of life on the way, and the family grows while it wanes. There’s hope and trauma and confusion all bundled up in a tapestry of exhaustion. Somehow, we’re reaching out hands to each other and rebuilding bridges.

Smoke season is insidious and deceptive this year, in more ways than one. Be careful out there.

Eight Months Later

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I realize I’ve not been the best with keeping up with this blog after I started it to be a writing portfolio (of sorts). I’m still not sure where I’m going with Dead Cat Bounce ultimately, but here’s the run down of how the bulk of my first year in Seattle has gone:

I had three weeks of panic upon my first arrival here, because my spouse had lost the job that had gotten us through the move and into an apartment on my first day in the city. I took the first job that I was offered, grateful, albeit a little daunted, but it turned out to be the best decision I’ve made in a long time. I was promoted to an assistant manager position after six months.

My mental and physical health had taken a dive back in Kansas and it had worsened since I wound up in a position of shouldering the bulk of the household expenses in a city notorious for its high cost of living. Enter company health insurance and actually taking care of my own health for the first time in probably twenty years. For the first time in a long time, I’m living with a thought on the future, instead of bare-bones survival running on nothing but adrenaline, caffeine, top-notch fiction, and cheap whiskey. At the end of this journey, I hope to ease the nightmares and start to appreciate myself as a person, as well as hopefully survive my next decade without wearing down my organs anymore than is necessary.

In short, I stopped writing and creating for a while. I no longer had a taste for it, so this is a move back toward making art (or something in that general direction) and growing as a person. I’m not sticking to a regular writing schedule yet, but it is happening again. I’ve been working on my programming skills and I have a game concept that I’ve been poking at when inspiration strikes. Baby steps, as they say.

At this point, I can’t honestly promise I’ll keep up with the site like I originally intended, or that it won’t take on a new direction in the future, but thanks for popping in on occasion to read! I hope to have more to share in the coming weeks. Let me know in the comments if you have any places in Seattle you want me to review, photograph, and/or mention. Or anything that strikes your mind on what you’d like see next on readcatbounce.