Joshua Wisenbaker's Blog: The Plaid Manifesto

It has been a year?
Oh my!

Life has conspired against me.
Oh my!

The pursuit has changed course.
Oh my!

Sly fox says, hurry up.
Oh my!

Whatever happened to that guy?
Oh my!

Why oh why have the heavens cursed me so?! I do what is asked of me. I do the best I can in all my endeavors. Yet, the gods are against me.

Curse that damnable fate! It is never enough! Rise early, fight my battles nobly, give to those who need it. Sacrifice after sacrifice, and for what?! Nothing!

Why oh why does it have to bee this way? I get up this morning to find, no sugar for my coffee! Oh, the gods have cursed me!

Oh, crap!

Honestly I cannot say I have ever found editing to be fun until today. It will probably not be fun tomorrow or any other day for that matter. Today, however, was different.

I was working my way through the upcoming novel. Just the usual, correcting "the" into they or them or these. Found a "non" where none should be. The simple mistakes or lazy depending on how you look at it. Found a couple places where whole words were missing making the sentence totally unfathomable. Sometimes these give me problems simply because the omitted word is key to understanding what I was trying to say six months ago when I wrote it the first time.

The fun came into play when I read the following sentence:

"They stopped about midday to let the horses rest and eat themselves."

This one sentence makes little sense. It is absurd. Horses eating themselves? I read it many times. I knew I meant for the riders of said horses to eat some lunch, yet I couldn't bring myself to correct it right away. The more I read it the funnier it got. Of course this says loads about me, but eh, what the hell?

I finally changed it to reflect the story, however, I may change it back. I know it will be a hiccup in the road. Some inane things should be left in there original form. Would it kill the story? No. Would it garner criticism? Probably not. Would it be the proverbial eye sore? Maybe. Do I really care? Sigh, "yes."

It will stay corrected. But it was fun finding it. Those darn flesh eating horses...

The creative process is over.

Angels is done.

Now to the rewrites. Damn I hate this part. Each time I have done this, by publication time I hate what I have created. It is a bit of a Dr. Frankenstein moment. I marvel at my creativity, but in the end I want nothing more than to strike it down to end the madness.

Maybe this time will be different. Ah, yes, the sigh of the hopeless romantic. Falling in love again with the hopes of a different outcome. It is all the same, yet I do hope for the best.

The realist is cynical even cruel at times. Yet, no matter what part of me survives, I will be happy with the end.

Possibly...

The older I get, hopefully, the wiser I get. I don't really know if it is true, but the more I watch the news, the more it feels true. At times it hits home like a tsunami. I work with my family who all have college educations, yet I am an island of reason in the sea of insanity. For example, if you say to a coworker, "do you have those reports done?" The appropriate answer is either "yes, I do," or "no, I'll get right on them." The answer I get is "you need them?" If I didn't, would I have asked for them?

It is like taking crazy pills.

Watching the news is even worse. I will not get into politics simply because it is like taking morphine or crack level crazy pills. I will only say the middle road has stopped and both extremes (left or right) are headed for the cliffs. What is worse than the politicians is the the news readers themselves. They cannot ask questions without them being slanted one way or another.

The real question I have for the news is why so many stories are passed over? There has to be something other than the usual politics, weather, and war. How about thirty minutes of good news for a change? The one minute soundbite at the end of each nights news is nothing more than a mere slap in the face. Here's 29 minutes of bad news, but oh a baby panda was born today in...

Spoon fed crazy today.

I have spit out the spoon for just a little reason. I hope you do too.

The experiment continues, but responsibilities outside of creative writing are getting the best of me. I remain vigilant.

Day 1 of the experiment was a success. Yes, completed one day of creative writing in a short poem or possibly a song if I can meet up with some beats.

That is the goal, to be creative in some fashion each day of the year. It is wholy unrealistic, since even the most creative of us has an off day. However the goal has been set, even if it is totally unrealistic.

At any rate here is the fruits of Day 1's labor:

Tear Drops on Rose Petals

The stars rain down far and wide
I am hoping soon to be by your side
Coming home from this God forsaken land
Loving you and giving you a helping hand
Just want a normal life
A house, a fence, and you as my wife

But first I have to get to the promised land
Out of Hell through the sliding doors
Over the mountains through the moors
God deliver me to the promised land

Tear drops on rose petals finding their place
Slice open my chest spray my heart with mace
This is the pain I endure while you're away
Hope to be home on the next sunny day
Just want to be with my poison
Only I got to get my boy's on

But first I have to get to the promised land
Out of Hell through the sliding doors
Over the mountains through the moors
God deliver me to the promised land

Tragedy struck, pain searing through my body now
Strapped flat to my back this hard rigid metal prow
It will be soon now, yes the healing has begun
Meadows, flowers, parks, Conney Island it'll be fun
True I left some friends behind
But, I'll be seeing you not only in my mind

I've finally gotten to the promised land
Out of Hell's gates through sliding doors
Over the mountains through the moors
God has delivered me to the promised land
Who's this holding your hand...

From Santa’s Desk
The Main Workshop,the North Pole


Miss Joni Lynn,

It has come to my attention while going over the Naughty and Nice list that you have been oh so nice. As you well know the reward for being nice is the gift of your choosing. Intelligence has revealed that you would like pixie dust more than anything else. No dolls, make up, or puppies, but pixie dust. I understand the wish to fly as I fly every Christmas, but this is a bit of a problem for me.
You see Joni, just as you have to play by the rules to be nice I have to play by the rules when giving presents. What I mean is pixie dust is a magical substance, just like the flying reign deer that I use. But, only I can fly Rudolph, Donner, and Blitzen. Since you, Joni, are not a magical creature such as elves or fairies, I can’t give you pixie dust.

Out of fairness, I checked with Fairy Gary about giving you some pixie dust. As I suspected the rules governing pixie dust will not allow a person to have any. According to Fairy Gary only fairies can have and use pixie dust. It is the magic in the dust that helps them to fly just like the magic in the reign deer is what makes my sleigh fly.

I must admit, that would be a wonderful gift to give Miss Joni, but I cannot. However, you will find some wonderful gifts under your tree on Christmas morn. And remember to be nice to all your friends and family.

Merrily,

Santa Claus


The letter I penned to hopefully answer my nieces request for some pixie dust. I am not sure how she will take it, but with some luck, she will understand. I am not fond of lying to children, however I find it liberating to encourage the child's imagination as thoughtfully as I can (plus who doesn't want to be Santa for only a day). I trust she will still beleive in Santa for another few years, that is if I haven't screwed it up for her.

What the hell is going on?! I thought this was a site for books and readers of books. Why does TNT advertise new shows here?

One word: revenues. I understand. Yet it would seem that other sources could be found.

Pointless as it is I'll end this rant with a silly poem.


Res Adversae

Mind numbingly whoring
Opps!
Did I say whoring?
I meant boring
Never-the-less
I’m a whore
She’s a whore
Everybody’s a whore
Don’t cha wanna be a whore too?