Donate Your Blood Money

***DONATE YOUR BLOOD MONEY***

Have you ever done something for money you’re not necessarily proud of? Does it feel wrong to have that resulting wad of cash because of it? Maybe your paycheck comes from a far-right conspiracy theorist, overseas dictator, drug lord, or otherwise objectionable human being. Of course, if you need that paycheck to survive, then there’re no two ways about it. But…if you’re able to afford it and you’re not comfortable with your blood money…donate it to a worthy cause. If money is the root of all evil, then turn it over to the root of all that’s good in the world and watch the balance of power shift.

Suppose you’re a WWE wrestler and you’re being assigned to perform for the Saudi Arabian government. You can’t stand the oppressive way they treat women and LGBT people. You can’t stand the fact that there’s no freedom of speech. There’s no freedom of anything in that country, but you must perform there at the risk of being fired by the WWE. It’s money from the Saudi Arabian government, so it’s going to be a big fat payday…for a charity of your choice! It could go to RAINN (Rape and Incest National Network). It could go to HIV/AIDS research. It could be used to prevent LGBT suicide. Hey, it’s your hard-earned money. If you want to donate it to a cause that’ll make the Saudi government’s heads explode, that’s your call. WWE can’t tell you not to do that.

Suppose you’re a waitress at a restaurant Rush Limbaugh likes to frequent. You love the fact that he’s a high tipper, but can’t stand the shit he says on live radio whether it’s against women, people of color, the LGBT community, or god knows what else. What do you do with that big ass tip if you don’t feel comfortable with it in your bank account? What any normal person would, of course: donate it to a women’s shelter or a women’s health clinic! This was actually a true story that the Young Turks reported. I can’t imagine Rush was very happy with it and quite frankly I don’t give a shit.

I don’t want you all to think I’m just standing on my soapbox and spouting off my beliefs through a bullhorn, as much as I love to do that. Donating blood money can actually be something a protagonist does in a piece of creative writing. Suppose your main character is a space mercenary who gets a fat briefcase full of money from a disgusting Jabba the Hutt-esque crime lord. Said space mercenary could donate it to impoverished children in the galaxy. Suppose your main character is a streetwalker who takes a hefty paycheck from a client she fucking hates. She can donate it to a women’s shelter.

Part of that ongoing story arc is what the boss man does after the protagonist donates his money to a rival cause. Does he send goons after the protagonist? Does he sue the protagonist? Does he go after the charity with explosive devices? Boss men hate that sort of thing, so it’s going to make your story a hell of a lot spicier than before. Just think of how wicked it would be if Boba Fett donated his bounty hunting money to helping women escape from Jabba the Hutt. It’ll never happen, but just think of the world of possibilities!

To be honest, I didn’t really think this blog entry all the way through. It happens sometimes. I’ll have this big idea that only expands to…one full page of text. That’s okay. I said everything I needed to say. Remember: only donate your blood money if you’re in a stable enough position to do so. In this fucked up economy, pinching your pennies is paramount to survival. I get that. But if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable with such unclean money, the ASPCA is more than willing to use it to protect precious fur babies. I can only imagine that’s what happened to Michael Vick’s assets once they were seized and rightfully so. Dog murdering bastard! I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight!

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER AND EMILIO & MARIGOLD***

Yard sales, house chores, concerts, illness, and general sleepiness have slowed down the process of putting together manuscripts for Beautiful Monster and Emilio & Marigold. But as Valarie Savage Kinney once said in a You Tube video, slow progress is better than no progress at all. E&M’s manuscript is complete and the first three chapters of Beautiful Monster are put together, which leaves twenty-five more to comb through for glaring flaws. Once the manuscripts are complete and I’m sure there are zero typos, I plan on sending them back to Hollow Hills for another few rounds of editing. My other beta readers have been wonderful, but Hollow Hills is the least expensive out of all of them. Plus, with two manuscripts instead of just one, being frugal is important. Sleepiness can kick my ass all it wants, but I’ll keep getting back up even if it fucking kills me!

***BEACH BALL Z***

I’m sure you all have noticed that in between edit jobs for E&M and BM, I’m writing more short stories for the Poison Tongue Tales and American Darkness trilogies. The next short story on deck will be a Dragon Ball Z parody called “Beach Ball Z”. It goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1. Zoku, Martial Artist
2. Jeeta, Martial Artist
3. Nameless Audience Members

SYNOPSIS: In the finals of the Dragon Fist Tournament, Zoku and Jeeta square off at the world famous Preparation H Pavilion. Despite the warriors’ efforts to put on an intense, violent fight for the crowd, the audience is preoccupied with bouncing a beach ball around and getting a Twitter trend going on called #BeachBallZ. While Zoku has a lax attitude towards the distracted fans, Jeeta feels overwhelmingly disrespected and pops the beach ball mid-match, much to the crowd’s booing dismay.

FUN FACT: This story was inspired by true events that took place during a WWE Tag Team Championship match at Summer Slam between The Hardy Boys and Cesaro & Sheamus. Some idiots in the crowd were playing with a beach ball during what was an intense and brutal match, so Cesaro ran out in the crowd and popped the motherfucker. Good on him!

***WRESTLING PROMO OF THE DAY***

(RE: Jake “The Snake” Roberts)

“The first thing I want to be done around here is to get that piece of crap out of my ring! Don’t just get him out of my ring; get him out of the WWF! ‘Cause I’ve proved, son, without a shadow of a doubt that you ain’t got what it takes anymore! You sit there, you thump your bible, and you say your prayers and it didn’t get you anywhere! Talk about your psalms, talk about John 3:16! Austin 3:16 says I just whipped your ass! All you got to do is go buy a cheap bottle of Thunderbird to get back some of that courage you had in your prime!”

-Stone Cold Steve Austin after winning the 1996 King of the Ring tournament-

Emilio & Marigold Suspended

***EMILIO & MARIGOLD SUSPENDED***

The deadline for submitting final drafts to Hollow Hills’s anthology “The Tales of the Siblings Not-So-Grim” is today, August 31, 2019. I’m sorry to say that Emilio & Marigold will not be able to make that deadline. Even after all of the rounds of editing it has been through, it’s still not ready by final draft standards. The characters are still two-dimensional, the world isn’t descriptive enough, and the prologue I wrote for the story to increase the word count is a rough draft in and of itself.

Marie Krepps, one of the CEO’s for Hollow Hills, assured me that everything will be okay since she’s already in talks with Aurora Styles about next year’s anthology, which will be animal-themed. Even with Marie’s comfort, I still feel like I let a lot of people and myself down. I’ve never missed a deadline before today. I was always a good college student who turned in my assignments on time without asking for an extension. Must be the Impostor Syndrome creeping up on me again.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Emilio & Marigold, it’s a Jack and the Beanstalk parody that stars my former kitty Emilio instead of a young boy. Emilio passed away back in June due to renal failure and I wanted to dedicate my story to his memory. Looks like his dedication will have to wait a little longer. Remember, this project is suspended, not scrapped. Suspensions are temporary and can be lifted anytime I damn well please. Emilio & Marigold will see the light of day, just not today.

So the question now becomes, where do I go from here? Do I continue to send Emilio & Marigold to paid beta readers? Do I start thinking about editing Beautiful Monster instead? Do I keep pumping out short stories for Poison Tongue Tales 3 and American Darkness 3? Is there another story that’s on my mind? I need some way of keeping my writing sharp until Emilio’s day in the sun comes.

Luckily, I’ve found just the Good Reads group for doing that. In addition to writing short stories and poetry for the WSS, I’m also part of a group called Character Therapy, a role-playing game where characters go through, you guessed it, psychological therapy. Any guesses as to which character I chose? Any pointy-eared, green-skinned elves come to mind? Hmm…

Character Therapy allows players to create more than one character, including therapists themselves. World? Meet Jerry Frost, an art therapist with an extreme case of Impostor Syndrome and a strong passion for creative development. Will Jerry become a permanent character of mine to be used in other stories? If I develop him far enough, he very well could be. He can’t be any more confusing than Tristan Jealous, whom I’ve written a poem about back in 2018.

So here I am, a man without a country, a ship without a rudder, wondering what’s next on my agenda. I suppose I could keep pumping out micro fiction. That’s basically what chapters of a new novel would be since they meet my 1,500 word quota. I know I should be more worried about editing the first drafts I already have instead of pumping out new ones, but keeping my writing sharp is essential to my success as an author.

I haven’t always been this zealous when it comes to my writing, though. The past three days in particular have been the worst mental slog I’ve been through in recent memory. Normally when I’m going through a slog, I can at least concentrate long enough on other forms of reading and writing, like answering Face Book questions or writing two-sentence horror stories. I couldn’t even concentrate for those things. That’s how fucked up things got. This mental slog happened just as I was getting prepared to put together the final Emilio & Marigold manuscript, which wouldn’t have been accepted anyways, but it still would have been nice to get that done.

The point of this journal is to let you all know that this isn’t the end of Emilio & Marigold. It’s merely a roadblock on the way to my final goal. Emilio will be remembered. He will purr at me from beyond the Rainbow Bridge. My love bug will be immortalized one way or another. He really was a love bug. He head butted me, climbed up on my lap, slept on my chest, and purred in my ear. Just talking about him like this makes me miss him even more. Gone, but not forgotten. I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight!

***TELEVISION QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“God creates all men equal, but once they’re out of the womb, he starts playing favorites.”

-Vic Mackey from “The Shield”-

***POST-SCRIPT***

As long as I’m talking about releasing micro fiction to the public for free, here’s the next short story on my agenda. It’s called “Balls to the Wall” and it goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1.      Shane Herman, Game Show Contestant

2.      Ambrose Kaider, Corpulent Space Mercenary

3.      Georgia Cushing, Shane’s Girlfriend

4.      Morgan Burch, Game Show Host

SYNOPSIS: Shane is competing on an obstacle course game show called “Balls to the Wall” and due to his lack of athleticism, he’s failing horribly. He’s ready to throw in the towel when Morgan introduces a new twist to this game: Ambrose is holding Georgia hostage behind one of the obstacles. If Shane doesn’t man up and complete the challenge, Ambrose will take his plasma rifle and blow Georgia’s head off. Questioning the legality of all of this is not an option since Shane signed a Hold Harmless agreement prior to the taping of the episode.

Double Dare, eat your heart out! Suck it, American Gladiators! Eat a big one, Finders Keepers! Okay, you get it by now.

The Secret Life of Pets 2

MOVIE TITLE: The Secret Life of Pets 2

DIRECTOR: Chris Renaud

YEAR: 2019

GENRE: 3D Animated Comedy

RATING: PG for comic mischief

GRADE: Pass

A Jack Russell Terrier named Max is having difficulty with being stressed out and easily fearful, especially when his owner has a baby named Liam and the whole family takes a trip to a chaotic farm. A superhero rabbit named Snowball has been charged with the task of rescuing a white tiger named Hu from a sadistic circus owner. While Max is away on vacation, his Pomeranian girlfriend Gidget is tasked with taking care of his favorite squeaky bumblebee toy only for it to wind up in a crazy cat lady’s apartment. These three stories converge near the end and the animals find that they’re willing to do extraordinary things to achieve their individual goals.

Cuteness aside, the guy who put together this movie definitely has experience with animal quirks and it shows in the most obvious ways. Cats chasing after laser pens, dogs acting paranoid when things get too stressful, animals in general defecating in places where the owners will least suspect it, cats knocking things over haphazardly, the list goes on and on. I can confirm all of these things and more since I too am an avid animal lover. Realism will always earn points with the audience, especially if there’s humor attached to it. You don’t have to hee-haw at every scene to think it’s funny. You could be laughing on the inside and walking out of the movie theater with happiness in your heart. Isn’t that what animal movies are all about?

Every story and subplot in this movie was well-executed, but my favorite in terms of character development has to be Max and his journey to overcome the fear of everything. In this respect, he really has no choice since he vacations on a farm with animals who don’t respect him and eventually crosses paths with Sergei, the cruel and vicious circus owner. Courage isn’t the absence of fear, but the action taken in spite of fear. We already know that Snowball the superhero bunny will voluntarily throw himself into danger for the good of the group. Gidget’s fear of being around that many cats dissipates rather quickly. But for Max, it’s a journey that spans the entire movie. Will he face things head on or will he continue itching at something that isn’t there? If not for himself, then he has extra motivation when doing it for baby Liam and his parents.

And now here comes the downer of this review. At the time that I’m writing this, my elderly cat Emilio is slowly but surely passing away due to failing kidneys and a subsequent loss of appetite. Throughout his final days, I’ve been finding solace not only in my creative activities (which includes this review), but also watching The Secret Life of Pets 2. In other words, this movie was literally therapy for me. It reminded me that I did everything I could to save Emilio’s life and when his time eventually comes, he can cross the Rainbow Bridge a happy kitty. He was fourteen years old, but I’ve only owned him for the past six months. Rest well, baby Emilio. You’ll always be my baby despite your advanced age.

If you’re looking for a feel-good movie with plenty of cuteness and humor, you’ll get a lot of satisfaction out of The Secret Life of Pets 2. Even if you haven’t seen the first movie, you’ll still get enjoyment out of the sequel and you won’t be confused by the plot. Based on the success of the sequel, I plan on watching the first movie on Netflix when I get the chance. How does a passing grade sound to you guys?

Impostor Syndrome

***IMPOSTOR SYNDROME VS. ARROGANCE***

Last year when Hollow Hills put together the Still Standing anti-bullying anthology, Aurora Styles wrote a blog entry joking about how that book should be known as “The Curse of the Self-Loathing Authors”, or something to that effect. It was true. There was something about writing that book that made the authors, myself included, feel unsatisfied, like they have Impostor Syndrome. While it’s nice to be humble throughout your writing journeys, you have to believe in yourself at least a little bit in order to get shit done.

I must confess that I’ve struggled with Impostor Syndrome since I began writing and editing Emilio & Marigold for this year’s Hollow Hills anthology. I held such a negative opinion of my own writing that I actually started having anxious thoughts about potentially being fired from Hollow Hills. Of course, it would take more than writing a mediocre story for that to happen, but anxiety is anxiety and it doesn’t give any quarter. I’m not looking for sympathy nor am I fishing for compliments. I’ve dealt with the beast of Impostor Syndrome before and I can deal with it again. Beside, the anxious thoughts about a potential firing went away after twenty-four hours. That’s it.

It seems as though I’ve spent a good while trying to find a balance between Impostor Syndrome (extreme self-doubt) and arrogance (unjustified self-esteem). The middle passage is somewhere out there. I’ve got to find it. Just like I’ve got to find the middle passage between Mary-Sue characters and those whose flaws make them the most hated characters in my story. If you throw a pin into a gigantic pool of water, that’s where the middle passage is. Some authors have found it, others have not and their writing suffers because of it. Oh, there goes my Impostor Syndrome again!

In case you’ve ever felt like you were alone in this, know that you’re not. I don’t want to say that Impostor Syndrome is a necessary part of the creative process, because it’s not. Sure, you need to recognize your own flaws as an author and work on strengthening them. Sure, you need to take criticism gracefully and use it to build a strong foundation. But when your Impostor Syndrome is all-consuming, it can have some detrimental effects. I’m not saying I have the cure for what ails you, because I don’t. All I know is that some days you’ll feel like you can take on the world and other days you’ll feel like dog shit. Can you do anything about this? Can you have more high days than low ones? Hmm…

Not to let my Impostor Syndrome kick in again, but I really didn’t plan this blog entry through very well. I’ve got one page worth of text and I’m guessing it’s about five hundred words long, which is a thousand less than a novel chapter or short story usually is. Don’t worry, I don’t have my compliment fishing rod and tackle box out and I’m not a gold medalist in the Oppression Olympics. I’m just working through some things right now, that’s all.

You know what would work great for my Impostor Syndrome? Being able to rest my head on someone’s lap while they stroke my hair. It sounds perverted on the surface and that’s probably why my short story Schizophrenic Playboy wasn’t a smash hit anywhere that I posted it. But you know what? It doesn’t have to be perverted. It can be completely platonic. Gender wouldn’t even matter to me. Just resting my head on someone’s lap would feel nice right about now. I’ve been watching a lot of Cuddle Sanctuary videos lately, so that might be where I’m getting this from.

Do any of you struggle with Impostor Syndrome? I bet I’ll get a shit ton of yeses to this question, but I figured I’d ask anyways. What are some of your coping techniques? Do you just push through the days and hope that you’ve got more good days than bad ones? I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***

In between edits of Emilio & Marigold, I’ve been quietly writing new chapters of Beautiful Monster and the next one will be number twenty-three. In this chapter, Windham, Llewellyn, and Tarja are taking shelter in a cave on the beach and they’re trying to figure out a plan to reclaim the Xavier Village from the Shadow Asylum mercenaries and Atwood Queendom soldiers. Three warriors versus an entire army? How is that even possible?!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Rape me. Rape me, my friend. Rape me. Rape me again. I’m not the only one. Hate me. Do it and do it again. Waste me. Rape me, my friend. I’m not the only one. My favorite inside source. I’ll kiss your open sores. I appreciate your concern. You’re going to stink and burn.”

-Nirvana singing “Rape Me”-

***POST-SCRIPT***

I feel that Nirvana’s anti-rape song will become a rallying cry for Windham Xavier throughout Beautiful Monster’s final five chapters. I’m strangely okay with that. It’s certainly more appropriate than “I’ll Be Over You” by Toto, which is what I’ve proposed for the first draft. The first draft…Millennium for emo kids…(shivers). Goddamn Impostor Syndrome!

Clockwork Orange Milk Over My Cereal

***BEFORE I BEGIN***

I know it’s been a while since you’ve last heard from me. And by a while, I mean only a few days, which doesn’t seem like much to the laymen in my life, but to me it’s an eternity. I’ve been busy lately. I currently divide my time between editing the shit out of Emilio and the Scratching Post (which I now want to rename to Emilio & Marigold) and taking naps in the middle of the day for no reason. The editing process has been just a tad overwhelming at times, even more so now that I’ve got a bunch of macro edits staring me in the face. But the good news is, I’ve learned how to create biographies for my characters. So now their actions have a purpose. Now my short story can be…a character-driven fairytale! Woo-hoo! Wish me luck! I’m going to need it! And now for a more lighthearted topic! We now return you to your regularly scheduled program.

***CLOCKWORK ORANGE MILK OVER MY CEREAL***

“Alcohol: because no great story ever started with a glass of milk.”

(Cue the picture of Alex De Large from A Clockwork Orange drinking Moloko Velochek.)

The other night, I was eating a bowl of Life cereal and the milk reminded me of that opening scene from A Clockwork Orange. And that got me thinking: what if I actually poured Moloko Velochek over my cereal and ate it? No, I have no idea where this thought will take me. It’s nothing more than a good idea.

My obsession with drug-laced milk didn’t end there. Last night I ate hot wings at the Tracyton Pub with my brother James, his friend Blake, and their mutual friend Jeffrey. I ordered fifteen breaded wings of the spiciest flavor the pub had: Death Wish. My mouth was on fire, my nose was dripping like a waterfall, and the next day my asshole was leaking lava. Milk is the only thing that will calm down a fiery mouth, so I drank two glasses of it at the pub and multiple glasses when I got home. I couldn’t help but hear the Clockwork Orange opening theme playing in my head as I downed the milk. That quickly changed when James drove me and Blake home at a bajillion miles per hour while playing “Rollin’” by Limp Bizkit at maximum volume. For the record, James hates Limp Bizkit.

Luckily, I didn’t go out for a night of “ultra-violence with my droogs”, fast driving aside. I also didn’t get brainwashed into becoming a pacifist, which would suck if I still watched WWE on a regular basis. The thought of becoming violently ill at Ricochet’s aerial offence or Braun Strowman’s powerhouse slams would be depressing as fuck. While it is hard to feel sorry for violent criminals, it’s even harder to feel good about brainwashing the fuck out of them to where they can’t even defend themselves. And while we’re at it, was it really necessary to play Alex’s favorite music during the torture process? Imagine if that happened to me. Not only could I not watch pro-wrestling, but I also couldn’t listen to heavy metal anymore. What a big bag of suck life would be.

I don’t really have any philosophical thoughts beyond all of this. I didn’t even anticipate how short this topic would be. So I’ll just call it a night and post this sucker on my social media accounts. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like throwing up, keep listening to…nah, don’t do that.

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Say when! We’re outlaws wanted dead or alive under the cover of a blood red sky. Bring a knife to a gunfight and we still win. Pale horse is coming. Retribution for sin. Skin that smoke wagon. I said throw down, boy. You going to do something or just stand there and bleed? If you want to die, say when. If you want to play for blood, just say when. Say when! Domination to anything that’s in our way. Life mowers are coming and stocking the graves. It’s futile to run and there’s nowhere to hide. So get down on your knees and pray for your life. Should I hate him? He reminds me of me. Now I know I hate him. So now it’s time to bleed. If you want to die, say when. If you want to play for blood, just say when. This is how the war is won. Cultivate the blood that we feed on. Sanguis! Credat apaella non ego. Eventus stoltorum magister. In pace requiescat. I want your blood. I want your soul. Do you want to play for blood? I’m your huckleberry. Sanguis! Credat apaella non ego. Eventus stoltorum magister. In pace requiescat. Just say when!”

-Hellyeah singing “Say When”-

Rolling the Dice

***ROLLING THE DICE***

Last night I had quite the wonderful conversation with one of the CEO’s of Hollow Hills, Aurora Styles. Round three of editing is rapidly approaching for Emilio and the Scratching Post, so the two of us agreed it would be a good time to talk about character profiles. I’m bold enough to admit that creating characters is something that I struggle with. Sometimes my characters are relatable and three-dimensional, other times they’re either despicable as hell (despite being heroes) or bland and boring. Aurora has been writing a long time and has character creation down to a science. That’s because she treats her TV and movie viewings as “study time”. She pinpoints flaws and traits in the TV characters she likes to watch and (either subconsciously or consciously) adds them to her own characters.

Unfortunately, I don’t put that much time and effort into my own character creation. I should. I know now I should. But up until this point, I’d been doing something I like to call “rolling the dice”. It’s actually called pantsing, which is the opposite of plotting. Everybody’s a hybrid of the two when it comes to writing, but for me personally, I would be a plotter for the events happening in the story and a pantser for character creation. My characters would be listed in my pre-writes as a name, a race, and an occupation. The main character of Beautiful Monster was listed as Windham Xavier, Elf Mercenary. His rapist was listed as Shelly Atwood, Human Seductress. With this incredibly limited information at my disposal, I would rely heavily on subconscious influences to flesh out these characters, much to their detriment.

Aurora said it best when she told me that the fiction we consume has the heaviest influence on our writing, whether subconsciously or consciously. This could not have been truer for Beautiful Monster, to use that example again. My biggest influences as a young writer included WWE, Pulp Fiction, Tales From the Hood, The Shield, Pink Floyd the Wall, and pretty much anything where the dialogue is snarky and vulgar. Well, those subconscious thoughts leaked into my characterizations of Windham and Shelly. They swore like no tomorrow. They got angry at little things, not unlike a WWE wrestler. The lengths that they would go to in being vulgar had no limits. The result? Having to completely rewrite the first draft from scratch. Windham and Shelly were hardly the only ones to act this way. Torger? You’re damn right. Tarja? Hell yeah. Orpheus Rinehart? Absolutely. There was no distinction between these characters’ dialogue. If I had quoted text with no names next to them, you’d never know who they were.

My critique sessions with Marie Krepps (the other CEO of Hollow Hills) led to a complete overhaul of my characters while my conversation with Aurora enforced and confirmed everything I should have learned. To use Beautiful Monster as an example again, Windham is soft-spoken and quiet-voiced even during moments of anger. Shelly is a lot more tempting and classy than she was in the first draft. Christian and Kody Savage don’t have any dialogue at all; they’re just a couple of drooling zombie rednecks.

For Emilio and the Scratching Post, the same thing is true: a complete overhaul of characters’ personalities. While I can’t divulge major plot points due to my confidentiality agreement with Hollow Hills, I am willing to give you some appetizers. In the first draft, Sweet Pea (Emilio’s master) was a little brat who disrespected her elders and got away with everything. Now, the newly christened Marigold is a lot more fearful of the villains in her life and that’s something she wants desperately to overcome. Antonia, Marigold’s grandmother, started off as a bland and boring screamer. Now, she’s still a villain, but her eerily calm demeanor makes her more believable. She’s creepy during her coldest moments and a joy to be around when she needs to lie to the public. In Antonia’s case, I stole her characterization from Abel, Trevor Noah’s abusive stepfather in his memoir “Born a Crime”. Yikes!

Of course, Emilio and the Scratching Post (which has the funny as hell acronym EatSP) has only entered round three of editing. There will be more changes. There will be more rounds. The macro and micro aspects will be fine-tuned. This will all be done before June 1^st, when Hollow Hills’s deadline for submissions comes to fruition. June 1^st is also two days before my 34^th birthday. Being a part of Hollow Hills’s anthologies will be the ultimate birthday gift for me. But before I can get to that milestone, I’ve got a lot of work to do…but not tonight. Tomorrow? Maybe. The next day? Could be. But not tonight. I’m physically drained after going for a long walk in the springtime heat. I need to be alert and alive if I’m going to make these macro edits to my manuscript. Until then, I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain! Or in this case, the scratching post to Uncle Thud’s catnip garden! There’s another thing that needs changing: Uncle Thud’s characterization. We’ll cross that bridge when a new day rises. For now, it’s about taking it easy.

***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER***

In between edits of EatSP, I’ve been writing chapters of Beautiful Monster and I’m currently on chapter twenty, where Queen Llewellyn Xavier is scheduled to make her first appearance in my story. The economic hardships have not been kind to her village. Her crops are covered in blight, her citizens are disappearing left and right, and she still hasn’t negotiated a trade deal with King Lars Stonewall. She’s ready to throw in the towel after so many failures…until a familiar face returns to her village with a traumatizing story to tell…

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Summertime and the living’s easy. And Bradley’s on the microphone with Ras MG. All the people in the dance will agree that we’re well qualified to represent the LBC. Me and Louie run to the party. Dance to the rhythm, it gets harder. Me and my girl, we’ve got this relationship. I love her so bad, but she treats me like shit. On lockdown like a penitentiary. She spreads her loving all over, but when she gets home, there’s none left for me. Oh, take this veil from off my eyes. My burning sun will someday rise. So what am I going to be doing for a while? Said I’m going to play with myself. Show them how we come off the shelf. So what? Evil. I’ve come to tell you that she’s evil. Most definitely. Evil. Ornery, scandalous, and evil. Most definitely. The tension is getting hotter. I’d like to hold her head underwater.”

-Sublime singing “Doin’ Time”-

"Familiars" by Fred Chappell

BOOK TITLE: Familiars

AUTHOR: Fred Chappell

YEAR: 2014

GENRE: Poetry

SUBGENRE: Cats

GRADE: Mixed

Prior to reading this lovely collection of kitty poetry, I (tried to) read another book by Fred Chappell, a novel called A Shadow All of Light. I had to DNF it because the purple prose and archaic vocabulary slowed the reading pace down. Luckily, I was able to complete Familiars all the way through despite it also using flowery descriptions that left me confused. Most of the time, these descriptions worked to the poems’ benefit. Who wouldn’t want to see kitties with their tails curled prettily around them? Who wouldn’t want to see precious fluff balls snuggling up with their elderly masters? Who wouldn’t want to hear about cats going on neighborhood adventures in search of mice to hunt or other kitties to play with? You’ll get all of that and more in this book. The one poem that really got my attention was the one about the old man who wanted to bag up his cats and throw them in the river. He was so cranky and coldhearted that it was a relief to see that he was the one who got tossed in the river instead of the precious fur babies. Truth is, there isn’t a bad poem in this book as long as you have some semblance of understanding of the oftentimes flowery language. A lot of it flew over my head and that’s why I’m giving this book a mixed grade instead of a passing one. Despite the glaring flaws, I enjoyed the book for what it was. The cats were presented as deities and divas, so that’s always a plus. I feel the same way about my own cat Emilio, who sleeps comfortably on my soft warm beddy-bye. Aww!

Hollow Hills Presents: Tales of the Siblings Not-So-Grim

***HOLLOW HILLS PRESENTS: TALES OF THE SIBLINGS NOT-SO-GRIM***

Every year the fine folks at Hollow Hills Publishing put out a new anthology and 2019 is no different. Last year it was Still Standing, a collection of short stories with an anti-bullying theme. The story I submitted to that one was Savage Beatings, a prequel to a novel I’m currently rewriting called Beautiful Monster. Copies of Still Standing are still available (why wouldn’t they be?) and all proceeds will be donated to the Crisis Text Line. What are you waiting for? Wait, I know. You’re waiting for me to start talking about what Hollow Hills is doing in 2019. Of course, silly me!

Tales of the Siblings Not-So-Grim, unlike Still Standing, will be lighthearted in nature. Comedy and romance are welcome, but they’re not required. This will also be a collection of stories with a PG rating, so there’ll be no excessive swearing, erotica, or ultra-violence. As you can probably guess from the title, each story will be a fairytale of some kind, though it doesn’t have to be a parody of an existing Grim Brothers Fairytale. It can be completely original or a parody of something else.

Of course, anytime Hollow Hills puts out a collection of short stories, I’ll want to throw my name in the hat. Yeah, I’m normally known for stories with excessive ass-beatings and over-the-top craziness and anger. But just for this anthology, I’ll temper myself as I write “Emilio and the Scratching Post”. It’s a clear parody of Jack and the Beanstalk except instead of a beanstalk it’s a gigantic scratching post and instead of a boy named Jack it’ll be my elderly kitty Emilio. Immortalizing my pets through my stories and poems is kind of what I do. I’m sure old man Emilio would love his own story. Right, cuddle bear?

Stories submitted to this anthology must be between 8,000 and 13,000 words long. In order to meet my minimum requirements, Emilio and the Scratching Post will be five chapters long and every chapter will be at least 1,600 words long, which is one hundred more than I normally do. Easy-breezy-lemon-squeezy! It’s even easier considering Hollow Hills will start accepting submissions between April 1^st and June 1^st. I’d love to get my story done before the first due date, but I’ve got a lot of time between now and then. Like I said, it’ll be a piece of cake. Or in the case of Emilio, a piece of pizza pie!

I’m announcing this new project for a couple of reasons. One, I need something to snap my five day streak of mental sluggishness. I already drew a picture of a novel character named Animal, so this blog entry was naturally the next step. The other reason is because all of my other creative projects will take a back seat to this one. Beautiful Monster, Incelbordination, and any WSS contest entries I write will have to wait for Emilio to climb the magical scratching post to the giant’s fortress in the clouds. I don’t mind putting those other projects on hold, because having a singular focus is better for me than having a cluttered workload.

Speaking of chaotic workloads, tomorrow night I’m headed to Seattle to see Within Temptation perform at the Showbox SoDo. If the Soulfly concert before it was anything to go by, then my sore legs, feet, and back will come back to haunt me the next day and I’ll want to continue the five day streak of laziness. Actually, this concert shouldn’t be anywhere near as tiring because it probably won’t go past midnight and there are only two opening behinds before Within Temptation. Maybe if I’m lucky I can write the first chapter of Emilio and the Scratching Post before I go to the show. I’ve done that before. I wrote chapter fifteen of Silent Warrior before going to a Starset concert back in February of last year, so why not?

The deal with this anthology is the same as the last one: I can’t post my chapters online since Hollow Hills forbids it. That’s something I can live with. They’re a business and they need to make money, so why should anybody have their books for free? Speaking of profits, this new anthology won’t be for charity, but you should buy it when it comes out anyways, because you’re awesome like that. Right? If you’re wondering why I’m not posting as often as I do, it’s because my attention is fully devoted to this new project. Plus, there’s that whole mental sluggishness thing I was talking about earlier. Wish me luck! I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Sunday morning I’m waking up. Can’t even focus on my coffee cup. Don’t even know whose bed I’m in. Where do I start? Where do I begin?”

-“Where Do I Begin?” by The Chemical Brothers-

***POST-SCRIPT***

The next time I post a blog entry, it’ll be about my favorite time of the year: the release of the Most Disgusting Promotional Tactic awards from the Wrestling Observer Newsletter! They came out yesterday and boy, were there some whoppers. One big winner and six runner-ups. Not as many as I anticipated, but still, these are pretty god awful. Get your barf bags ready! It’s going to get ugly! Hehehe…heh…heh….I’m on an island.

Italian Stallion

Let’s bookend this crazy twenty-eighteen

With the cutest fuzz ball you’ve ever seen

The sweetest old man to walk the earth

The reason for my happiness and rebirth

His name is Emilio, the Italian Stallion

Bouncy like Tigger, sleepy like Valium

His interests include cuddling and snuggling

Whether I’m happy with life or struggling

The year before, three fur babies passed

I never thought it could happen so fast

Maggie the saggy-jowled Springer Spaniel

Watching her die was more than I could handle

Sitka was a kitty called the Queen of Halloween

Now her spiritual essence will forever fly free

Smokey loved to sleep on my comfy bed

Now she permanently rests her fuzzy head

While nobody could replace these beautiful souls

Somebody had to patch up my heart full of holes

Emilio the sweetie pie would come to my aid

Though at first he was timid, lonely, and afraid

It took some pettings and cradles in my arms

No longer would he come into danger or harm

Safe from the streets, cozy under my roof

Love is very real and Emilio is living proof

May he spend his days happy and relaxed

To a homeless life, he’ll never ever go back

Welcome to my home, welcome to my bed

Feel free to rest your fluffy old kitty head

2019

My intentions for the brand new year

Have never been so crystalline clear

Drop a hundred pounds as I walk this town

While listening to favorite heavy metal sounds

Publish a new book full of action and drama

Edit that bitch down to the very last comma

Find a girl who loves me for my soul

Who’ll pull me out of my blackest hole

Read more books and clear my shelves

I’ll review them all, but read for yourselves

Learn how to drive some clunky machinery

Eat less junk food and eat more greenery

See Tarja Turunen perform at a show

Even if the destination is one I don’t know

Buy a T-shirt that says Ego Kills Talent

Vote for justice on the November ballot

Glide my fingers across the piano again

Play some funky music that never ends

Be the best kitty father I can possibly be

Emilio the snuggle buddy sleeping with me

Write more often while being wide awake

Write every day if that’s what it takes

If these dreams and goals sound unrealistic

You’re obviously part of this division

You might as well stand right in my path

Can’t guarantee your safety in the aftermath

You say I can’t do it, I tell you to screw it

You’ve got too much attitude; lose it

This year is mine to grab by the horns

This life is mine, it shall never be torn