Cool Ideas that will Probably Never Happen...

Well, it looks like the post I wanted to do for May might actually get posted in May.  Granted it is the last day in May, but hey….better late than never.  

Looking through the folders in my Google Drive account, I have a folder called “Cool Ideas that will Probably Never Happen.”  

Now, most people would think, Cool Ideas that will Probably Never Happen, why would you do that to yourself?  That seems so negative.

And ya, one might perceive the name of this file of mine as a pretty negative thing, but I am looking at it as a positive thing.  Let me tell you why.

You see….lately...I have been feeling very scared to write anything new.  Maybe even very gun shy to produce any new content.  And, for the life of me, I can’t seem to figure out why.  Ever since my last blog post, where I put my personal writing out into the world, it has brought back the terrible, horrible, beast of a creature that I thought I had a pretty good handle on.  This creature that I am referring to is one that writers all over the world are all too familiar with, and that creature is known as The Inner Editor.

At first, I thought that it might be another well known enemy of the writer, commonly known as Writer’s Block, but it’s not that I have a lack of ideas, it’s just that for some reason, I can’t get any of them out.  I mean, I sit, staring at my screen for hours, just waiting for something to come out, but nothing ever comes.  And, on the very seldom occasion that something does come, I never manage to get very far due to the fact that nothing that makes it’s way out of my brain lasts very long, as I find the need to edit, edit, and edit some more, because “Reader A” or “Reader B” may not like my idea, may not think it’s as cool as I do, or any other number of excuses that I manage to come up with.

And I know, you just need to ignore your Inner Editor, or “you just need to get your story out and edit later,” or don’t write for others, write for yourself.  And usually, all of the above answers, or even a combination of these answers usually does the trick for me.  But lately, this has been easier said than done.  

Now, if you have made it through this much of my post, you may be asking yourself, “Hachi Machi...what does any of this have to do with the Cool Ideas that will Probably Never Happen folder that he talked about in the first part of this post?”  Well, let me tell you...

This is where all of the cool ideas that I have been coming up with are getting stored.  Story Ideas, Project Ideas, New Podcast Ideas, and a bunch of other stuff.  I guess in some sort of weird way, I am hoping that by seeing this folder every time I open up my Google Drive account, that I might finally get the courage that I have been lacking to put new content out into the world.  Hey, maybe I might even blog about some of my ideas.  Maybe that might help. Hey, a guy can hope, can’t he?

Sharing is Caring

So far, my New Year’s Resolutions are not going as well as I had hoped.  I have improved in some areas, and stayed the same in almost everything else.  One thing that I had hoped to keep up on better was my resolution of doing at least one blog entry a month.  And, if you keep up with my blog at all, you will notice that I have not done very well with that.  So this entry, essentially my post for April, will be my attempt at trying to play catch up.  And for this blog entry, I am gonna be kind of lazy, and since it’s my blog, I’m saying it’s ok.   

For those of you that don’t already know, I try to spend as much free time as I can being a writer.  And of the few that already knew, several of them have asked to read some of my writing.  Well, here is the thing about me.  For some reason, I am a very self conscious writer.  I feel that every time I write, no one other than myself could possibly ever want to read it.  So, I have a lot of finished stories, and even more partly finished ones, that I just tuck away, never again to see the light of day.  But, in order for me to be a better writer, I feel that I need to get out of my comfort zone, and let people read my writings.  So, my good friend Ken Stephens and I started our own professional wrestling league called ACW Wrestling.  We create wrestling characters, storylines, promos, and wrestling matches and post all of them online.  If you want, you can go to acw.boardhost.com and check out some of our amazing stuff.  

But, if that’s not your thing, what I am going to do is include a snippet of a story that I wrote for NaNoWriMo back in 2010.  It is super rough, un-organized, and the format is super messed up, but it’s one of the most solid pieces of this story.  

 

Jamison Collins sat alone in his room.  Even though the sun was shining high in the sky, the blinds were drawn behind him, the only light being provided by the small lamp on his bedside table.  He sat, dressed in his Sunday best, on the end of his bed, looking past his dangling feet to the floor below.  Most other eleven year olds would take advantage of a day like this, spending every waking moment running around chasing a ball or enjoying the fresh air sweeping past them.  But Jamison sat, deep in thought, trying to forget the whirlwind of events from the past couple of days.  As hard as he tries to forget, the wounds are still very deep and fresh.  Watching his parents sacrifice themselves, give their lives to save his, is still something that his developing brain has still had not had a chance to process.

        It was shaping up to be a wonderful evening.  Jamison was spending a wonderful night on the town with his two most favorite people in the world, his mother and father, Bruce and Barbara Collins.  They were out celebrating, rewarding young Jamison for his hard work in school.  The year had just finished, and he was able to maintain high marks and finish as one of the top students in his class.  They had enjoyed a wonderful meal at his favorite restaurant, Ground Blooms, a Chinese restaurant where they served some of the best egg drop soup in the city.  Jamison had loved Chinese food since as early as he could remember.  He loved it, which was strange, because his mom and dad were not entirely fond of it.  He could eat it for every single meal if he was allowed.  His dad told him that his sister, Jamison's aunt brenda, shared that same love, and said that they should meet someday, as they had a lot in common.

        After dinner, they headed for the car.  Next up on the agenda, a trip to the museum.  Now, at first thought, you might think, a museum?  What person in their right mind would want to visit a museum for fun, especially an eleven year old boy?  Well, this night was no ordinary night.  Tonight, they were featuring an exhibit on Pirates.  Now if there was one thing that Jamison loved more than his parents, it was pirates.  He was fascinated by them.  The freedom of sailing all over the world, discovering new lands, searching for buried treasure, and of course, the sword-fights!  Jamison could barely contain his excitement as he kept stretching up, trying to peer out the window, looking for signs of the large, circular building covered in windows.

        But, they would never make it to the museum to see the pirates that night.  While waiting at a stoplight, a drunk driver came barreling up behind the little family.  Unable to stop the car, or even control it at all for that matter, the drunk slammed into the back of the Collins car, turning their full size sedan into something the size of a small compact vehicle.

        The next thing little Jamison remembered was the sound of police sirens.  At first he thought he was dreaming, but when he began to wake, he felt sharp pains all through his body.  Then, all at once, the reality of what happened came swirling back to him.  As he slowly came to his senses, he tried to look to where his mother and father were seated.  He saw them both slumped over.  He called out to both of them, “Mom, Dad, are you ok?”  But no response.  He unbuckled his seatbelt and slowly tried to get closer to where his parents were.  Every movement shot pain through his body, so he chose every movement carefully.  When he got close enough, he reached out and nudged his mother and father, while calling out their names again.  “Mom, Dad, are you ok?”  Still they were both un-moving.  Not giving up hope, he reassured them, “don't worry mom and dad, help is on the way.  Everything is gonna be just fine.”

        The police had finally arrived, and went over towards the Collins car.  Seeing that Jamison was ok, they helped him out first.  “my mom and dad are still in there!  You gotta help them!”  He said.  As he said that firemen and an ambulance arrived on the scene, and they began work on getting out Bruce and Barbara, as well as the driver that had hit them.  After working for almost an hour, they were finally able to remove the bodies of Bruce and Barbara Collins from the wreckage.  Jamison ran over to them, but was stopped a few feet away from them by a cop.  He looked a bit different from the other cops on the scene, so Jamison had pegged him to be the guy in charge.  The cop had bent down and was holding back Jamison.  He said, “I'm sorry son.  We tried everything, but they are gone.”  “What do you mean they're gone?  I can see them right there!  Let me go!  I need to make sure they are alright!”  “No son, I mean that they have passed away.  Your parents have died.”  Tears now filled Jamison's eyes as he spoke,” no, they can’t be dead!  They just can't be!  Let me go and talk to them, you'll see!”  The police officer held onto Jamison as he thrashed about hysterically until he could feel his small body get tired and slow down.  Jamison then turned to the cop and buried his face into his shoulder and sobbed, the reality of the situation finally setting in.  The officer embraced the boy and held him for what seemed like hours.  He knew that he could never replace the boys parents, for the love of a parent is something that cannot be duplicated, but he was not going to let this boy grieve alone.

I cannot stress enough though that this is a very rough draft, so please try and overlook that, and let me know what you think, good or bad.  (Please be nice!)