Hello everyone,
So James wrote a blog concerning his belief that the next year will be the most important period of his writing career. I thought it basically described everything that I've been feeling lately, so I thought I would comment. But I didn't know where the comment button is on Tumblr. Thus, there is this:
Last night I had a dream that I was an astronaut on an Apollo 11. I say an Apollo 11 because it was clear to me, even in the dream, that I was not on the Apollo 11. My Apollo 11 was made out of cardboard boxes with a few holes cut in the side. (Picture the TARDIS from Dr. Who but very poorly constructed, with 'Apollo 11' written on the side in really drippy paint, and the whole thing placed on the stage of my high school auditorium).
However, the feeling of being a real Apollo 11 astronaut was definitely correct. There were press people snapping photos of me as I entered the ship. Everything was sepia toned and there was some very epic music in the background--violins, drums, perhaps the occasional trumpet blast. It was all very... historically significant-ish. And right as the music reached its loudest, and the rockets ignited, and I could feel the thrust of acceleration pressing me backward into my seat--my cell phone rang.
For some reason, I had decided to bring my cell phone on Apollo 11--despite the stringent regulations about sterilization, and payload weight, and incorrect chronological time period. And instead of thinking, 'now is not the time!' I immediately thought, 'I should answer this. It could be a grad school. I wouldn't want to miss that.'
The call was muffled but still audible over the sound of the rocket engines. The sepia tones were gone now, and we were rocketing through bright greens and blues--sky and trees.
"Mr. Taggart, this is John James Williams." His voice was raspy and far away--like he was in a call center. I imagined him eating cold teriyaki chicken with rice from a Tupperware container as he stared at a computer screen. He pulled his headset away from his mouth so he wouldn't hit it with his fork.
"Hi?" I said.
"I was calling to process payment for your order."
"Uh," I said, trying to remember what it was that I had ordered. Apollo 11 was getting lower, blasting down city streets, through labyrinths of red brick buildings. "Sure, no problem."
"For the chocolate you ordered."
"Yes," I said, "chocolate." I watched out the window as Apollo 11 traveled past a fire hydrant. "Do you have an email address that I could...uh, send that, um...to?"
His email was JohnJamesWilliams @ Ambien.net, which I later thought was interesting since I was, after all, sleeping when he gave it to me. I told John James Williams that I would email him as soon as I got the chance.
Despite the fact that I was was both on Apollo 11 and about to receive a shipment of Ambien-laced chocolate (both exciting prospects), I was annoyed that John James Williams wasn't a graduate school representative.
When I woke up, I thought that perhaps my priorities were off.
I think that it's time that I get back to focusing on writing--not on waiting for grad phone calls. John James Williams was trying to tell me something, I think.
Therefore, at the behest of James Hart and John James Williams, I am going to declare the next year as "The Most Important Period of My Writing Career." Beginning on the day after my graduation (i.e. May 15), I will write at least one hour every weekday with the goal of completing one story a week. Each month, I will send at least one story out to be considered for publication.
And I will document the process on the blog.
As James' blog would say, it's time to distribute or dissipate.
Love always,
-jim.
So James wrote a blog concerning his belief that the next year will be the most important period of his writing career. I thought it basically described everything that I've been feeling lately, so I thought I would comment. But I didn't know where the comment button is on Tumblr. Thus, there is this:
Last night I had a dream that I was an astronaut on an Apollo 11. I say an Apollo 11 because it was clear to me, even in the dream, that I was not on the Apollo 11. My Apollo 11 was made out of cardboard boxes with a few holes cut in the side. (Picture the TARDIS from Dr. Who but very poorly constructed, with 'Apollo 11' written on the side in really drippy paint, and the whole thing placed on the stage of my high school auditorium).However, the feeling of being a real Apollo 11 astronaut was definitely correct. There were press people snapping photos of me as I entered the ship. Everything was sepia toned and there was some very epic music in the background--violins, drums, perhaps the occasional trumpet blast. It was all very... historically significant-ish. And right as the music reached its loudest, and the rockets ignited, and I could feel the thrust of acceleration pressing me backward into my seat--my cell phone rang.
For some reason, I had decided to bring my cell phone on Apollo 11--despite the stringent regulations about sterilization, and payload weight, and incorrect chronological time period. And instead of thinking, 'now is not the time!' I immediately thought, 'I should answer this. It could be a grad school. I wouldn't want to miss that.'
The call was muffled but still audible over the sound of the rocket engines. The sepia tones were gone now, and we were rocketing through bright greens and blues--sky and trees.
"Mr. Taggart, this is John James Williams." His voice was raspy and far away--like he was in a call center. I imagined him eating cold teriyaki chicken with rice from a Tupperware container as he stared at a computer screen. He pulled his headset away from his mouth so he wouldn't hit it with his fork.
"Hi?" I said.
"I was calling to process payment for your order."
"Uh," I said, trying to remember what it was that I had ordered. Apollo 11 was getting lower, blasting down city streets, through labyrinths of red brick buildings. "Sure, no problem."
"For the chocolate you ordered."
"Yes," I said, "chocolate." I watched out the window as Apollo 11 traveled past a fire hydrant. "Do you have an email address that I could...uh, send that, um...to?"
His email was JohnJamesWilliams @ Ambien.net, which I later thought was interesting since I was, after all, sleeping when he gave it to me. I told John James Williams that I would email him as soon as I got the chance.
Despite the fact that I was was both on Apollo 11 and about to receive a shipment of Ambien-laced chocolate (both exciting prospects), I was annoyed that John James Williams wasn't a graduate school representative.
When I woke up, I thought that perhaps my priorities were off.
I think that it's time that I get back to focusing on writing--not on waiting for grad phone calls. John James Williams was trying to tell me something, I think.
Therefore, at the behest of James Hart and John James Williams, I am going to declare the next year as "The Most Important Period of My Writing Career." Beginning on the day after my graduation (i.e. May 15), I will write at least one hour every weekday with the goal of completing one story a week. Each month, I will send at least one story out to be considered for publication.
And I will document the process on the blog.
As James' blog would say, it's time to distribute or dissipate.
Love always,
-jim.
