It’s Halloween, Trick or treat! Know what has become my new favorite thing about Halloween, it is the night before Nanowrimo begins, and this year, I am going to start just an hour or so early. The idea has been mulling around in my head now for a couple weeks, but I’ve truly taken it nowhere until an hour or so ago when I realized that midnight was the Nanowrimo kick off.
It may be only a few words, but this is going to be MY Hallwoeen costume. As I explained in my main blog, this year I am going to use someone else’s character, and maybe that will get me over the hump to finally win Nanowrimo, to finish a novel. It’s been so long, I am no longer sure I finished Familiar Territory once, though I can’t seem to do it again. This one, this time, I want to finish.
Eddie Wilson Online – The Blog and Times of Eddie WIlson.
“For twenty years, ” the man spat over a draft glass that passsed as a rocks glass in the place he was drinking the top shelf rye whiskey on three rapidly melting rocks. “Twen, Tee, years, they kept dragging me out of the cobwebs and propping me up like some messiah.”
The man paused and caught me staring off in the back corner of the tavern, clarity, insanity, vocal chords straining in disappointment, ” And when they finally got me out of the shadows, it was cool for a while.”
He gave the street nod of a Jersey kid.
“I was taken care of, played a couple of big shows, did a few tours.” He finished off the glass and held it out, shake the two survivng ice cubes as if I weren’t sitting directly in front of him in a bar where he was exactly one third of the clientele and I wouldn’t notice. The other two patrons were trading beers over a pool game in the back corner, and I was a good enough bartender that I would have noticed if we had a full house.
“But, they didn’t really want to know what Eddie was up to. They didn’t want to haer the music I’d been working on. It was, ‘Play your fucking one hit and move one, Old Man’, and that kind of sucked. It wwas the reason I didn;t come out before that. I wanted to avoid the downslide, the inevitable slipping of the quality of the venues, until you wake up and you’re sustaining yourself playing Cornfest in some shithole farm town where the radio stations never played more than one or two of my songs, ever.”
