27 June, 2015
Static Website

Yeah, I really wish I had something interesting or exciting to put here. I look back at the archive, and there were journal entries all over the place. They carried on for miles, too. I mean, looking back, how the hell did that happen?

There were two for all of last year. Two! I should be screaming from the streets, jumping off lamp posts, and otherwise just making a big awful fool of myself. A static website is death. Death! I tell you.

So, yeah, I should have something to say. I should be writing something. I should be maintaining the vanguard here. I should be witty and entertaining, but that last bit is never going to happen so I should at least maintain something. Entropy is death, and all of that.

It's the twin forces I'm always prattling on about like that irresistible force and that immovable object. Yeah, I know, it's not the same thing, but the principle is the– okay, it's not the same. It is something. On the one hand, entropy is death. While on the other hand, prattling on without a purpose or topic or generally whining about the same-old, same-old thing I'm always complaining about is just another form of entropy. Therefore, death.

More importantly, there's just so many hours in the day and a limited amount of energy available for use during that day. Work sucks. Yes, you've heard that before. It burns far more energy than it has any right to do even when any given work day is not that busy. It still sucks the life from out the soul. And, yes, some work days are incredibly busy or stressful or both. Sometimes, and this is the part that really freaks me out, the less busy or stressful days are more of an energy suck than the busy ones. Go figure.

So, yes, random bullshit that's been going on that I really should at least acknowledge exists. I am, in fact, working on a new novel. This one is in the same wheel-house as the last in the sense that it's not supposed to burn a lot of mental energy. It's not a horror/suspense story like the last one. It's also not an adaptation. It's also—well—it doesn't have much of a plot.

See, again, I'm trying to conserve energy. I'm trying not to burn out and die, which is not as easy as it sounds. I tend to be very demanding of my creative endeavors even when they are supposed to be low-wattage or otherwise frivolous.

I am trying to do something, and brace yourselves, I'm trying to do comedy. Now, I know how well that turned out last time. Okay, Faire Folk of Gideon wasn't supposed to be a comedy, but it was meant to be a light-hearted romp full of energy and enthusiasm and otherwise just a great time. The one person I know who's taken a crack at The Faire Folk of Gideon said it was the most depressing thing she's ever read, which I suppose is actually a fair statement about the work. Faire Folk is also bat-shit insane, but she didn't mention that part.

So, yeah, what the hell am I doing, right?

Well, there are actually two reasons why I am attempting this. First, I used to run a web comic, and that thing still makes me laugh. Sure, it never had a huge following. Maybe, 70 people, if I'm feeling particularly egotistical about myself, but it was entertaining. Second, even among all the gloom and doom of Pyrrhic Kingdom, there were things in it that made me laugh. The characters had a wonderfully morbid sense of humor about their job, and it made me think. It made me wonder if I could pull it off.

So, I'm trying to combine the low-wattage, hang-out, energy of String Finger Theatre with the gallows humor of Pyrrhic Kingdom, and I have absolutely no idea how it is going to turn out. In fact, gallows humor isn't even the word for it, but I simply can't think of a better one. It's that busting-your-chops, we're-all-in-this-together camaraderie of Pyrrhic Kingdom, which thinking about it, is actually buried pretty deep. I mean, we're talking about story full of mistrust and betrayal so where exactly is the camaraderie? I don't know- it's in there, dammit!

Besides the fact it's a comedy, there's very little I want to say about Tourist Hunter until it is done. The title is a pun, of sorts. A play on words to be a little more exact. Don't read too much into it. It'll make sense in-context. So, it's a low-wattage, hang-out comedy with a dark, dark underbelly. I was describing some of the underlying universe to Samantha, and she just kind of looked at me like I was crazy and said "I thought this was supposed to be a comedy."

Oh, it is. It really is, if I can pull it off, anyway. All of that bleak darkness is just where they live. It's not who they are.

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