Fictionary

Like most writers, I have a day job.   Unlike some, I don’t see it as a totally necessary evil; It’s necessary, but not evil.    In fact, I consider myself luckier than most when it comes to the “writer with a day job” moniker.   It’s not just an 8-5-er that’s complete void of writing.   My aspiration towards writing perfectly lends itself to my day job as a job coach.   As a job coach, it is my responsibility to assist people with bettering their employment options.   My co-workers and I call this ultimate goal “tier to tier movement”.   Though it vaguely sounds like a video game term, this phrase refers to the act of bettering one’s current situation.   In most cases, this means finding a job when one is unemployed.   In some, it means finding a better job than their current one. As with any trade, there’s a multitude of tricks and stratagems that can be employed to help clients achieve their goals: Resume building, interview practice, training plans, job search assistance,

I don’t like binge watching shows.   I also loathe the culture that surrounds it. The adulthood expectations of my boring life influence this opinion heavily, but there’s also the thought of having to drop everything and spend 10-12 hours watching something in a misguided attempt at keeping your finger on the pulse of what Twitter has decided is “in” that makes me want to yell at kids to get off my lawn in random places that just so happen to NOT be my yard.   But there is a show where I have relented, hanging my head as my pride deflates and I feebly gesture to your TV and Roku stick.   Also, I’m sure you have questions as to why I’m sitting in your living room at 2am in the morning, but there are bigger things to discuss here.           When I found out the next blog hop was going to focus on binging, my mind went to one of my favorite shows in the last five years:   Netflix’s American Vandal.   So as someone converted to the binging religion for one show, I guess it’s now

Once upon a time, I was eight years old.  (I know, it's a rather shocking admission, but one I hope we can move past swiftly.)  Every store had an exorbitant amount   of packs of collecting cards for any random interest in any major cartoon currently airing, salad dressing was now pizza flavored, sneakers dazzled onlookers with arythmic flashes of red lights, and the local video rental shop had every SNES game that you could read about in Nintendo Power. The year was 1993, and it was quite the time to be a kid.  And alive, I guess. It was this year that a pecular curiosity began to culture in my developing mind.  At first, I was terrified by the implications of this sudden yet prominent force taking hold of me.  It felt wrong but it was a budding sensation I couldn't ignore. During playground conversations, I'd always attempt to bring it up but would always fall prey to the inherent caginess of my meek, introverted personality. Eventually, I talked to my parents about

      So hey.   I did that thing.   You know. THAT thing.   The thing I specifically and emphatically said I was never going to do because I’m through with that thing.   The thing I’m talking about was my promise to maintain a steady posting schedule on my blog and not go buy the proverbial cigarettes at the gas station after telling you that I’d be right back (sorry/not sorry).   Remember?   Well, I remember.   Pepperidge Farms remembers too, which fucking terrifies me.   They have people everywhere.   I mean, have you ever NOT seen their products in a store.   The reason for the radio silence?   Well…I moved.   Bigly moved.   My wife and I jumped about 6 states to the west and now we live in Northern California.   Now I shall do this: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS CRAZY WHAT THE HELL ARE WE DOING?   Actually, the reason we did this was for a severe change.   I’ve been sweet on California for a while wh

(At least once a year, I participate in a blog hop with several talented authors.  This time we focused on a series that we loved in the beginning, then disappointed us, but then redeemed itself in our eyes.  Sorry, no writing excercises this time) When I was told the theme of this year's blog hop, there was no hesitation on what subject I wanted to pull the trigger on.  Back in the early 2000s, the Playstation 2 was a must have for anyone who was all about the button mashing.  After buying one, I encountered a game unlike any other that eventually become a benchmark and influential power for video games for years.  This game was Devil May Cry. In the game, you played a silver haired demon hunter named Dante who's soul purpose was to eviscerate and obliterate demonic enemies in highly stylish ways.  It was a highly kinetic action game that was a complete overload of everything a hormone and anxiety riddled teenage boy imbibed for spiritual sustenance.  But I can't fully

Some Guy:  Hey...hey you Me:  ( Looks all around, then looks back and mouths the word "me?") SG:  Yes you.  Come here. Me:  ( Shuffles forward nervously) SG:  So, I need to tell you something.  You're not going to like it.  In fact, you might hate me for saying it. Me:  ....Who are you? SG:  Not important.  What's important is that you make you grow as artist. Me:  So hey, it might look like I'm calling the police but... ( Pulls out phone and definately DOES start dialing 911.) SG:  Wait.  Hold Up.  Just give me a few minutes and then you can do whatever you need to do. Me:  That's okay.  This isn't even a real phone, just one of those gum containers that looks like one. SG: ......... Me: .............Go on. SG:   (Shrugs.)  All right, so what was I saying - Ah yes, you suck at being a productive writer. Me: I'm doing just fine, thank you.  I read lots of books and articles on writing.  Also, I wrote a complete sentence last week. SG: