The Journal, Friday, October 11

In today’s Journal

* Hard to believe
* Since I’ve gone on
* Of Interest
* The Numbers

Hard to believe a third of October is already in the books. Now that my latest procedure is done (successfully) I plan to finish my WIP this month. Should be a piece of cake.

For any long-time followers out there who might be wondering, this is the longest calendar time it’s ever taken me to write a novel (or novella). (I started my WIP on June 2.) It’s also the longest string of non–fiction-writing days I’ve had for the past six years.

I need to get this thing done and in the books so I can start something new. (grin)

Since I’ve gone on about my med procedure, I thought I should update you on it. I had it yesterday. Summed up, it was easy-peasy.

The doc was backed up by about an hour, so we waited. That wait was the only torture that ensued.

The procedure itself went fine. It was painless and quick. Though the doc warned me the effects would be progressive, I was free of back-pain for the first time in two-plus years from the moment I got off the table.

If anyone out there has a lower-spine ailment and would like more details, email me and I’ll tell you what to expect during the procedure itself.

But that waiting room.

The waiting room was filled with folks whom I can best describe as polite if a little depressing. Most of them engaged (as is normal) in quiet, private conversations.

A few notables were annoying. To excess. I am not the frailest of flowers, but twice I had to get up and walk outside to avoid exercising the urge to put a them out of my misery. Carpe jugulum, I say. If only it weren’t illegal.

One obnixious young woman entered into a very loud, very personal conversation on her cell phone. On speakerphone. Her laugh would force a grizzly bear into hiding, and the conversation itself… well, let’s just say her hobby, apparently, was collecting disbelieving stares from strangers.

While she was rattling on, a young guy came in, sneezed into his hands (both hands) a few times and then wiped his nose with his thumbs. Then, with the men’s restroom and its sinks and soap a mere twenty feet away, he glibly pirouetted, took a seat, picked up a magazine and began flipping through it.

Meanwhile, partway through the girl’s broadcast, a pair of middle-aged brothers came in and parked two feet from me. One did his best to overtalk the girl’s phone conversation with a circuitous, seemingly endless story after tapping his brother on the leg:

“Oh, did I tell ya I seen me one’a them UFOs? It landed out there just t’other side’a the barn. ‘Course I only noticed ’cause ol’ Jinx—you a’member Jinx, don’cha? That blue-tick hound I got from Darcy last time I was in Arkansas? You know, Darcy with the wooden leg. Well, anyway, ol’ Jinx, I’d just went out the screen door to do somethin’—I forget what—an’ ol’ Jinx, he’d just now settled on this side’a the barn to dump his daily load. An’ I yelled at him, ‘No, Jinx! Not there!’ I mean, if I told that dog once’t I told him a thousand times, don’t be droppin’ a log right where I gotta walk. It was right there on the path where I walk to the barn, you know, an’ that ol’ Jinx dog, he knows better, or he ought to. So anyhow, that’s how come I seen that UFO thing in the first place, ’cause it come slidin’ in easy-like an’ settled just t’other side’a Jinx an’ that ol’ barn. Man, I can’t believe ol’ Jinx done that again. I mean, if I told that dang dog once’t, I told him a thou—”

And mercifully the nurse called me back for the procedure. Yeah. Even without knowing what would ensue during the procedure—even knowing a person I’d never met was waiting to stab sharp objects into my spine—I practically ran to her.

When I came out, I called across the waiting room to my wife, “Let’s go.” I never did find out anymore about that UFO.

Okay, that’s enough of this nonsense. Today I’ll read more on the WIP, and write. The next time I post, I’ll have a topic for you.

Talk with you again soon.

Of Interest

See “Even in the Gathering Darkness” at

See “What To Do About Imposter Syndrome” at

See “Explaining How an Author Terminated a Movie Studio’s Copyright to ‘Terminator'” at This is very exciting. Very heartening.

See “Would You Write a Cookbook for Next to Nothing?” at Very disheartening.

The Numbers

Fiction words today…………………… 0
Nonfiction words today…………… 800

Total fiction words for the month……… 1338
Total fiction words for the year………… 381569
Total nonfiction words for the month… 5940
Total nonfiction words for the year…… 268630
Total words for the year (fiction and this blog)…… 650199

Calendar Year 2019 Novels to Date…………………… 7
Calendar Year 2019 Novellas to Date……………… 1
Calendar Year 2019 Short Stories to Date… 2
Novels (since Oct 19, 2014)…………………………………… 43
Novellas (since Nov 1, 2015)………………………………… 8
Short stories (since Apr 15, 2014)………………… 195
Short story collections……………………………………………… 31

2 thoughts on “The Journal, Friday, October 11”

  1. Regarding the limiting of the terms of copyright, Felice and Boudleaux Bryant negotiated a 10-year term for all of their songs starting back in the 1950s. I found this quote on the web:

    “The Bryants were more than successful songwriters. They also established an influential benchmark for songwriters when, in 1957, they negotiated a 10-year deal with music publisher Acuff-Rose that returned to the Bryants all publishing rights for their songs at the end of the agreement— the first of its kind in Nashville.” [source unknown because I’m too lazy to re-Google it]

    Not everyone has the clout to get this, but it’s certainly worth knowing practically everything is negotiable. There’s no such thing as a standard contract.

    • Thanks, Bob. Not everyone has the clout to get such a deal “offered” to them, but everyone has the ability to say No rather than sign a bad deal. 🙂

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