Dec 072018

I guess it started with role-playing notebooks. I was often the gamemaster so it would be up to me to write up the adventures. As I got more sophisticated, I wanted to keep track of continuity so I would fill up these spiral notebooks with maps, names and vague notes about plots.

As a player, I almost never took notes until I played Call of Cthulhu. Like any Lovecraft hero, I recorded my adventures into madness and despair. Those notebooks were very short.

When I started to write, I only needed one notebook. It had scraps of ideas. Once in awhile I might actually outline something. Mostly though, I used those notebooks to create lists of ideas I wanted to explore.

Nowadays, I have too many writing notebooks to count. There is a drawer in my cabinet filled with nothing by writing notebooks. I start one for each big project, scribbling ideas, character names, outlines and anything I can think of that I can’t use right away.

My chose-your-own-adventure books involve three of four notebooks for each one. I dedicate a page in the notebook for each choice, then I number every page. These notebooks become my hard copy outlines. I use a page for each choice because even though I usually only use three or four sentences for each choice, I rewrite a lot and I need that extra space.

When I got into magic a few years ago, every books recommends keeping a journal. This is so you can record your magical experiments and have a document that you can refer to. That is what it is for in theory, but I find that more often I find the empty pages to be a gentle reminder to do more magical stuff so I can have something to put in those pages. My magic journal is the only one I do on my computer, because I type way faster than I write and I don’t want the urge for brevity. Plus, it is backed up on three computers thanks to Dropbox.

When I moved to Wisconsin, I decided to take up bowling. My first few games were really bad and I got discouraged. I got a tiny notebook to fit in my pocket so I could record the days I played, how many spares and strikes as well as my scores. Only when I wrote them down did I see that I was actually getting better, just with some hiccups. I also found that I bowled for shit on Sundays.

When my Mom got cancer, I drove from Wisconsin to North Carolina to visit her. My wife was just starting her job so I had to go alone. It was the first real trip I had done by myself as an adult. I was a little nervous and overwhelmed by the details I needed to keep up with, so I got a notebook. Using a little magic, I have it a name and a personality to that not only do I have a notebook to keep track of my reservations, mileage and receipts, but I also created a placebo safety blanket of knowing my trip was magically protected.

This year I worked on my biggest book yet. It consumed so much of my head space, that I struggled to keep track of chores. I read a book that had a lighthouse keeper, and the book showed the deterioration of the keeper’s mental state by printing the daily report that he logged. There was something about the listing of chores he accomplished or didn’t finish that really clicked with me. I used to do something similar for my factory job, and I remembered how writing all the breakdowns on my machines made me feel better by how little I accomplished some days. I decided to start keeping a daily housework notebook, and it really helped me keep up with my chores as well as assure me on those days that I got overwhelmed.

Last month, I made fried chicken for the first time in ages. I remembered the seasoning blend, but couldn’t recall the cooking times. I had written them down, but lost track of it. We have a binder style notebook for recipes, but the times and temperature it listed was outdated. The book mostly contains recipes we have printed or cut out. what I really needed was a journal that I could write experiments or works-in-progress until I settle on a final recipe for printing and inclusion in the binder. So that’s why I got a spiral cooking notebook.

I put stickers inside my notebooks. It sounds childish, but it really makes the notebook stand out. It transforms the blank pages into something that has a life of its own. There is also a lot of adult themed stickers out there on the internet.

Anyone else compulsively notebooking?

Sep 072009

So I was at Dragon*con when I picked up food poisoning. I spent Saturday night in the bathroom and all day Sunday vomiting anything I tried to eat. I was achy, whiny and pretty miserable all day Sunday.

It was still the best Dragon*con ever.

They moved the comic artists out of the sub basement they usually put them in and placed them out in the open next to the artist gallery. The difference in energy was amazing. Instead of claustrophobic artists crowded on top of each other, they were spread out with big nice tables. Plus, they were smiling!

Television and Movie stars are surrounded by handlers so that you don’t get within stabbing distance. Comic artists hang out and anwser any lame question you have for them. I embarrassed Michael Golden with my praise for him. Mike Mignola talked to me about Screw-On Head and Hellboy. Brandon Peterson and I swapped stories about middle management. It was fucking fantastic.

Amanda Conner did the wonderful evil version of Power Girl drawing I have featured here. In a weird way, I am prouder that I got her to laugh when I suggested a Kryptonion Goldfish who lives in a Fishbowl of Solitude. I commissioned the piece and we both got food poisoning the same day. She still managed to get this out to me which makes her a Power Girl in her own right.

Rich Larson created two images of Texanah and Erishella for me. They are both stunning and I will be giving them their own post. The Erishella one especially is going up on my wall.

We attended the Venture Brothers panel and got a 15 minute sneak peek at the next season. We watched Shatner and Nimoy bicker like a married couple. We watched Kate Mulgrew be magnificent as usual. We also cosplayed as Fallout 3 Vault 101 people which is something I have never done before. My wife and I were adorable.

Which brings me to my anti-anxiety prescription drug, Lexapro. Holy fuck. I was a different person this year. I had the confidence to talk to people I admire. I had the confidence to talk to total strangers I met in the halls. I didn’t have a single freak out moment this year which has never happened. Heck, I actually dressed up in a costume and posed for pictures. I guess I’m just saying if you have anxiety issues, go seek out pharmaceutical options. I wish I did this years ago.

New Erishella story this week.

Jun 012009

After a week long anxiety attack, I finally got back to writing on Friday night. I’m not 100% sure what caused this attack as my doctor and I pretty much blame my thyroid for everything at this point. All I care about is that it’s gone and I can get back to writing.

What is interesting to me is how the writing process suffers. I’ve been writing every day, rain or shine, happiness or feelings of complete terror, and my writing during my anxiety attack is remarkably dull. I move the plot along and I get the action across but it lacks those interesting bits that make it worth reading. I didn’t even notice how lackluster it was till I posted the second part of ‘The Day the Vibrators Die’. I wrote that part weeks ago during a deliriously happy phase and in my humble opinion, it just sings with my sense of humor. The stuff I wrote last week? It reads like a reporter accounting events.

Oh well, at least I can rewrite it. Currently I am working on a 12 part Librarian story, a Fighting Fantasy porn parody and my impossibly long secret project that I have been working on for months. Maybe it’ll be ready by 2010. In the meantime, we have a Von Madd story for Wednesday and a Dirty Movie review this Friday. With the week already written, I can get back to tormenting poor Ms. Currie. Oh face-sitting, I have forgotten how much fun you are to write.

Image is of the always lovely Keli Stewart

 Anxiety  Comments Off on Erotica Threat Level: Productive Purple
Dec 052007

I wrote most of a story lately. It is almost finished except of course for the part where I like it. I have to tweak it a bit and figure out what essential piece will connect the story I wrote to the story that was in my head that I was so happy about.

What is interesting to me and I apologize to you wonderful readers because I have turned this into a Track-My-Anxiety blog, is that although I am no longer scared shitless by the world, I still have all this crazy adrenaline. I’m excited. I’m terribly excited to the point that when I sat down to write my story, I had to get some scratch paper and write out the four different possible ways of telling that story because I couldn’t just focus on one. This story is barely three pages and yet four versions of it exist in my head and I had to give them all equal time just to silence the doubt that the version I like is the best one.

But the thing is, I wrote it. I put it down and it’s not bad. Considering how much work I have to do at work, and the constant jitters I have right now, it is a fucking miracle it was done at all. Yes, I want a cookie for my efforts.

Where’s my cookie?

Nov 282007

Around last Tuesday my sex drive dropped. No big deal, it happens sometimes. It sucks to be a sex writer with a dead sex drive but I didn’t worry about it. I knew I was one good episode of ‘Dr. Who’ away from getting it back.

Thanksgiving came and I had a pretty lazy day. I played insane amounts of City of Heroes and spent sometime playing the wonderful Bioshock.

Friday came and that night I went to a party hosted by Valerie. We played dirty word scrabble with a group of mostly lesbians. There is nothing like watching a lesbian play the word, ‘Pud’, and then explain it. I won the second game with BJ on a double word score and I’m still pretty happy about that.

Saturday I woke up with a tight chest and the sense that I was going to screw up big time. I felt incompetent, stupid, childish and lame. I was scared of everything. I was scared of hanging out with friends, I was scared of messing up my wife’s birthday, I was scared of alienating people, I was scared of writing a shitty blog, I was scared of doing anything.

Monday wasn’t much better. Tuesday was pretty bad but I think I held my shit together enough for my wife’s birthday. Luckily she had an awful day at work and weirdly that took the pressure off me. I knew nothing I did would be as bad as what was happening at her job.

I was/am convinced that her birthday was a big trigger for this current anxiety attack. We just had an anniversary where we did everything under the sun and now I feel like I have to find one or two more wonderful things to do for her birthday and I am just flat out of inspiration. She’s been looking at me all week to pull one more romantic miracle out of my ass and you know, she deserves one more romantic miracle but fuck if I had any idea what to do.

So, because work was such a bitch, she wants to move her birthday celebration to the weekend. That’s fair. It also means that I have five more days to do something that will keep this from being a sucky birthday.

I so need to get my shit together.

Nov 262007

There are women that I love. They are smart, funny, and exciting. They make me feel like a great Priapic god when they show attention and affection for me. I adore and treasure them and want to be in their celestial orbits. I want to make sweet love to them in the dying of the night.

There are other women. The ones I want to fuck, ride, bend, bind, spank, pinch, overwhelm, and dominate. These women I want to play like instruments; discovering their unique song within and making them sing like they have never sung before. I write their story with paddles, commands and sheer will. I write a story that only works for them using themselves as inspiration and source.

One kind of woman is the kind I can grow old with.

One kind of woman is raw material to be processed, used and consumed.

I want both but it is hard for me to treat a single woman as both. A relationship that starts as the first rarely survives being transformed in the second. A relationship that starts as the second ceases to be exciting for the sub when it transforms into the first. Every book I read and every dom I talk to suggest starting with the first type and moving into the second and I agree in theory. It’s the reality that’s tricky.

I pull my punches as a dom when I love my sub. I have trouble having my sub hate me when I used to flourish under their love. I can’t go for the kill when I lack the heart to be her villain.

A dom has to know that his sub will still love him after he has done wicked things to her. Again, I know this in theory but my anxiety screams that this brilliant wicked thing I have thought of will shut that affection forever. I know it’s a lie, that my own affection for my sub will prevent me from doing anything that would hurt her, but my anxiety says that I make mistakes. My anxiety says that one day she’ll figure out that I am not as strong as I pretend to be.

I think this is why I enjoy writing BDSM so much. I can hurt fictional characters and I will. I can be honest with a character about my desires and the sub’s desires, with no fear of being judged. I can use a character. I enjoy using a character. They are there to be used and since the never loved me and never can, my anxiety never sabotages what they need.

There is a fine line between those that I love and those that I dominate. The truth is that I love them all, I just have troubles loving them well.