I went jogging again yesterday. The “track” (dirt and weedy gravel path around a field) is at a church. Beside part of the track, on a hill that slopes down a fairly steep grade, is what looks like a forgotten cemetery. There is well over an acre of land with maybe ten graves. First of all, who wants to be buried at an angle? Something about it just seems wrong—to be inclined for eternity. And the plots are only marked with a flat piece of marble on the ground covered with grass. If I can’t have my Viking burial out at sea, I want a gaudy tombstone with angels and enough ornamentation to make people think I was something special.
As I made my second torturous lap around the track, I noticed what looked like shoes sitting next to one of the grave sites. What? I kept running and sweating, thinking heatstroke must be accompanied by hallucinations. On my next lap I looked again. Again, down the hill, I thought I saw a pair of old shoes. I figured my racing pulse and dangerously high heart rate was sending me foreshadowed images of what would happen if I kept running.
When I cooled down, I walked over to take a look. Sure enough—a pair of loafers. Were these shoes this guy’s favorites? Did they forget to put them on his feet in the casket? Do they believe in zombies and want him to have his best loafers when he rises for the zombie revolution?
I’m so confused by this. If anyone knows what this means, please let me know.
I accidentally signed up for the wrong health plan this year. Part of this new plan required me to take a health assessment. I weigh 200 pounds – 199.1 to be exact. The results of the health assessment tell me I need to be 184 at my heaviest. Are you kidding me? 184 at my heaviest!
OK. I’ll give it a shot.
So, I went jogging this morning. The problem with jogging is that it is so damn boring. I don’t mind running around if I’m scoring points or have some sort of purpose, but to just run is incredibly boring.
I had a great idea. You get a running partner and a taser gun. You have a 30 minute exercise session where in the first 15 minutes one person chases the other with the taser gun and in the second 15 minutes, you switch. Now that would make a motivated runner. Who wants to be tased? Nobody. Who wants to zap somebody else with a taser? Everybody should! It would be hilarious.
Now I just need to call somebody I don’t like very much and ask them to be my running partner.
I am almost finished writing the second book in my Benny James mystery series. I will definitely be finished by the end of June, but probably before.
Just as I’ve done in the past, when I get close to finishing one book, I write the first few pages of the next one. A couple nights ago I had the pleasure of visiting the 70’s camper. After writing a little over 2,000 words, an idea hit me. I opened a new Word document, and started the first chapter of book 3.
I’ve thought about book 3 a little in the past few days, but not too much as I need to keep my focus on book 2. Last night though, in the middle of the night, my brain decided it was ready to do some heavy planning. I must have lay there for two hours at least mulling over all the possibilities. As frustrating as it was not to be sleeping, it was exciting at the same time. I have some great ideas! This is going to be the best one yet.
Well, it happened once again last night as it always does, and once again I was pleasantly surprised. I don’t know if it is normal to doubt yourself, but many times when I sit down in front of my laptop to write, I wonder if the magic is still there. Last night was one of those nights.
I sat down in front of the computer knowing where I wanted to start my chapter, but I had no idea what was going to happen. As soon as I started typing, my muse took over and I was only the co-pilot. The characters took control and it was as if I was only following and documenting their actions. It was so much fun and the reason I love writing so much. Many times, although I am the author of the work, I am surprised by the twists and turns. Benny did something last night that was so hilarious, I was laughing and my kids were asking me who I was talking to. When I told them no one, they looked at me like I was a nut. It is a high I can only begin to explain. I can’t wait to chase it again tonight!
I am about to write a scene where Rachael is interviewing the owner of a strip club. One of the murder victims worked at the club and left some items behind. The owner thinks the items might be able to help in the investigation. Rachael is bringing Benny along, as the only other time she entered the club, it was closed. This time the club will be in full swing! Maybe I should go out tonight and do some research. Just kidding. How do you think my wife would take that request – Honey, for my book research, I need to go visit some strip clubs tonight to really get that authenticity in my writing.
I’ve never been a person who was that infatuated with cars. Give me a car that gets good gas mileage, is paid for, and doesn’t have any mechanical problems, and I’ll be fine. If it’s a purple 1970’s VW Bug, fine. A taxi cab yellow El Camino, OK. My first car was an orange 1975 Volvo, for crying out loud! I’ve been there and done that.
So, I am not a cool car person. If I ever have gobs of money, there is only one car that I might splurge on—an old Trans Am. I think I’ll even try to get an exact copy of the one Burt Reynolds drove in the Smokey and the Bandit movies.
Benny James is away from home, in Florida, in the book in progress. One of the new characters in this book is a guy named Dirk. Dirk runs a place called Dirk’s Rentals and rents everything from Halloween costumes to tractors. He also rents some James Bond type of items and cars. Benny is not happy with the first car he rents and Dirk lets him drive his old Trans Am—just like the one from Smokey and the Bandit.
The car even comes with a hilarious bumper sticker and some really cool cassettes on the floorboard!
If I ever get the chance to buy one, my wife is going to be so embarrassed—Sweet!