Get your fingers flexing because the third annual SepSceneWriMo starts in just one month.
Who wants to burden themselves with trying to write a *novel* within thirty days? Do you even have the time? 1666 words a day? No way. And what kind of schlock would you end up with, anyway? Come on, NaNoWriMo is a bust.
September Scene Writing Month is a much easier, lazier, more manageable endeavor. In fact, this challenge is so NOT a challenge, that you can get started on it RIGHT NOW! Sure. Who the fuck’s gonna know? Even more poignant is: who the fuck’s gonna care?
So, get writing your scenes today. But hey, schedule their publish date for September because, why the hell would we have named it SepSceneWriMo if it didn’t happen in September?
How’s that mountain air, the wildlife and the local burgers treating you?
I’ll tell ya, it’s been a hella strange mix of spring into summer this year. Weeks of slogging through a dull, mundane existence, punctuated by bizarre spikes of unpleasantness. A crazy ice storm and loss of power and internet. My daughter rushed to the hospital for emergency appendectomy. The ever constant drone of Rust code in my mind and last weekend’s 115F degree heat. And of course there was the month after month of writer’s apathy and far too much television/youtube. Yes, I think one can definitely consume too much TV — life’s emotion and experiences fed vicariously through an aural/visual IV losing much of its punch and verve along the way.
And how can one forget the constant hum of covid news that appears to be finally dwindling. Being vaccinated certainly takes the pressure off keeping current on that front.
These days, I’m feeling around, like a mole probing for earthworms, wondering if I can write my way out of indifference. As I do, of course, I begin to ponder the philosophical aspects of the task. This latest is simple: can a Stoic, who prides himself on attenuating the highs and lows of existence, ever write passionately about anything?
If one never allows oneself to feel the ecstasy or the misery how can one possibly communicate such emotions through words? Can you write of pure joy without ever experiencing ecstatic bliss? Can you write of raging hatred if you’ve never let abhorrent loathing consume you? Even if only through imagination, could a Stoic ever allow himself to drift out of his narrow channel of calm acceptance?
February: Crawled out of my cave, looked around and crawled right back in.
April: Still nope.
May: Fingers itching, must be vaccine side-effects.
June: Fuck me. Alright, alright, just quit squeezing my frontal lobe.
[Back cover blurb]
A-Nihilists: Tribe of Annihil-Nation
Members of a growing anti-society movement continue to expand their attacks against anyone and everyone. If you believe in anything, God, morals, society, human rights, animals rights, Save-the-Planet, free school lunches — you are a target. A-Nihilists are here to destroy you and everything you believe in. They live solely to convince you of the absurdity of existence.
Kamus joined at fifteen. His first act involved the explosive destruction of an I-15 bridge that spanned the Virgin River in St. George, Utah. It didn’t go well. He and his partners underestimated the concussive power of one-hundred pounds of ANFO (ammonium nitrate & fuel oil). But mostly, it was the too-short fuse Kam had used on the M-80 that detonated the makeshift dynamite.
Mistakes are often the best teachers. That is, if you can survive them.
Years later, that first lesson became a seed of doubt.
“If my purpose is showing you your purpose is bullshit…”