An Old Blog and A Look Back

 My creativity waned when I was in my corporate marketing job. The environment was toxic for me. I worked a while in the aughts on a novel that didn't come to pass. Ironically, long before Christine would divine our current cat would be named Zoë, the book was to be called Zoë's Missing. 

I'd read an article about a young woman in Dallas being abducted, and the diligent efforts of her circle of friends in an artsy and techy area of the city helped keep up awareness until she was rescued. They used the communication tools of the moment in the process. 

I thought a novel focused on a circle of tech-savvy friends deploying their skills to save a lost pal might be exciting. 

I came up with a backstory that would explain the reason for the kidnapping of the fictional Zoë, things involving her parents and laundered money and things that were not her fault.

I had a couple of slightly older characters in the mix, divorced guy living among the younger people and a widow who'd become friends with the missing girl.  By older, then, I mean they were in their '40s. 

There was a bit of a love story for them as they worked with young coders and web designers.

Phones with cameras were new and blogs were a thing, and there was one young guy who held movie screenings of obscure flicks he found on DVD. Spider Baby had just been resurrected around then, so that was one he'd shown for its novelty.

I was working with the web by day and navigating how it would be deployed for business and constantly dealing with new developments. I was kind of excited by the elements that were burgeoning, and I was often off to tech conferences in Seattle and hither and yon. 

I started reading blogs via an aggregator, many of them created by tech-oriented people in startups and the like. 

I followed one young lady's blog for a while because she had a tech degree and was struggling through early jobs, all while planning her wedding, caring for a new cat and shopping. 

That blog's long gone, of course, but I ran across it not long ago via the Wayback Machine and read a few passages, some sad moments about the loss of a cat friend. A few other ups and downs with work and family were recounted in short passages as well.

All this was 20 years ago. Made me think as many things do about how fast time flies. Also made me empathize anew a bit, feel the pain of ups and downs for the young lady, now all memory.

Checked around the socials but couldn't really find the blogger nor her husband in the usual places. The zeal of documenting life must have been overtaken by the challenges of life and other concerns. 

Helped make me get back to this blog I started around the same time, though. 

I'll catch a few more snapshots, for myself or someone else to check somewhere on the other side of here and now.  

Story Progress

 It's Sunday. I plan to take it a little easy though I've been working a while, focusing on a short story this morning. 

I know where it ends and I'm concentrating on making the "getting there" meaningful for the characters.

I read Joyce Carol Oates's novelette "Night-Gaunts" yesterday in a collection of the same name. It's her focus on the path of a fictionalized Lovecraft.

I have often described discovery writing, which I prefer to "pantsing" to finding my away along in the dark with a flashlight gradually illuminating a little more and a little more. 

Oates uses POV to describe the writing process of the Lovecraft character, Horace Love, this way:

"For the (now-adult) survivor the experience of writing is like making his way along a path by the light of a quarter-moon: he can see enough of the path before him to make his way safely though in fact he is surrounded by shadows on all sides.

"The gift of `weird sight' is that you see just as much as it is required for you to see. Beyond that, you have no need."      

It's a bit more eloquent in the words that fit a Lovecraft character. 

I often writing from an outline or at least a mental outline, but that's still about how it goes. Almost uncanny to have it crop up in a story that way.

I continue editing A Disturbance of Shadows, polishing details but really trying to ferret out any misplaced words or small errors that my brain has glossed over in previous drafts.

I had hoped to be finished with this short novel much sooner but I know I'll thank myself later for being meticulous. 

Some Words Written on A New Short Story

I'm working on a piece for a themed anthology. Won't say a lot more than that. 

It is interesting to work sort of between worlds, with some parameters provided by the theme and the rest open to your work and ideas.

I have the basic concept down, and I've been kind of working with the characters. 

I put some more words on the page this morning, introduced a new bit of information and a new bit of character reaction.

I know basically where it's going, but there's still wiggle room.

Wiggle room means also there's a bit of finding your way as well. 

Oh well, trying to post a little more just because capturing the snapshots of the process and the day-to-day is handy at times.

Movies and Minions

It's hard not to be down these days, given the headlines. I've been going to the movies on Tuesdays to take advantage of the discounts on tickets and meals. 

I went to see Maxxxine yesterday. I thought it was good and nicely created the '80s cinematic feel. I'm not the first to say it reminded me of Angel. 

I saw X when going to the movies still seemed a little more dangerous and thought Ti West really did a lot to revamp and invert slasher tropes. Pearl was pretty interesting too and really did its own thing.

I didn't love Maxxine as much, but it was interesting and had some surprises and a lot of fun touches like the Psycho house. 

The theater's been a little more active of late with families taking in Inside Out 2 and Despicable Me 4. Glad to see the place getting some business, and they've been doing fun things like setting up photo op spots.

Yesterday they had a Minion on hand, bouncing around the halls as well. 

Before Maxxxine started, the Minion bopped into our theater to look around and give a big wave.

I gave a big wave back, and there was quite a bit of joy in that little bit of goofiness. 

Bolstered me to sit back and enjoy the film more than I might have. 

Thought this was an interesting poster, channeling maybe more '70s giallos like Torso maybe. The film's got a masked menace part of the time, so I guess that all fits. 

Gone So Long and Gone and Going On

I started this as a post for social medial, but it didn't quite seem right for that. Maybe it's a prose poem. Maybe it's just a few thoughts at the end of a week, an OK week except for contemplations. 

But then those matter don't they? They affect well being. 

Talking about them is supposed to do some good. 

 I’ve been gone from where I used to live a long time, almost a quarter of a century. A moment in a book I was reading reminded me the other day I ought to try again to find out what happened to this one girl I used to know. We knew each other as kids and in high school, rubbed each other the wrong way frequently, but co-existed well all in all. 

Funny the little things that trigger memory. The book had an incident about a swimming pool, and she and I were in the same circles that went swimming when we were 10 or so.

I had learned when her mother died that she had preceded her in death sometime before the internet documented obituaries as well as they do now, except maybe behind paywalls. 

I thought a fresh Google might let find out what happened to her. I didn't get an answer. But that led to the discovery of another person who passed, then another and another. 

That on the heels of learning a while back of a friend 30 years gone I just hadn’t heard about.

I need to stop looking and counting. 

One girl, I couldn't tell you the last time I saw or talked to her, but her passing made me sad and made me keep reading Legacy. 

One in the mix was a guy I hadn’t thought of in years and years and years, but when I saw his obit I remembered this one time a friend and I went with him and flew this plane he built—long, long before drones.

A piece fell off while his remote-control plane was in the air. He managed to land it without destroying it in spite of the fact that it was an aileron he lost, a piece pretty important to control. 

We joked about insurance. As he loaded the damaged plane into the back of his car, he said: “Yeah, I need `a piece of the rock' for my plane, too.” It was a spin on a slogan for Prudential many might not recall. 

As I read of his passing, I learned he turned that passion for building into a successful small business and made that how he spent his time until… 

Made me look more at one of the others. She was a parallel friend, someone from the schoolyard you'd say hey to or chat with if you crossed paths back then. You can look at some timelines now and get reminded in small ways they did the same things you did back when with a different set of friends. 

And she went on to a career and other things until circumstances, and possibly some bad decisions, kicked in. 

Trying to find out more, I learned of another friend who preceded his mother in death. That's all her obit said.

It's made me think of fond moments with each of those seven gone that I've learned of in the last few years.

Apparently origins and specifics of the quote are disputed, but I'll go with the variation attributed to German poet Ludwig Jacobowski that I found. It seems to fit best:

“Do not cry because they are past! Smile, because they once were!” 

 Maybe so. I'll remember that and go on trying to create new moments. 

 Zevon nailed it. "Enjoy every sandwich." 

And a paraphrase from that first quote above is sometimes mixed with a passage from Dr. Seuss, I'll keep in mind too. 

 “We’re off to great places, so let’s be on our way.”