My Lawn Is Shaggy.

My eye opener Monday morning took place at 0500. Much work to do and not enough time to do it all. First stop – Mickeys.

Plasma

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After a plasma infusion I went back home and got working on the book. Editing is that magical time when you admit to yourself that some moron wrote the words you’re looking at on the screen, and it’s your sacred duty to make said moron look somewhat less stupid. It can be daunting. Today we snipped excess words. Excess words are a blogger’s friend – pads out the post. In a novel it’s the six little words that the potential publisher can’t stand to see that cost you the deal.

Sunday I removed tumors from the book. There was a cancerous growth around chapter fourteen that was a data dump. It didn’t do much for action and plot, it was simply a big bag of stinky background information some dimwit thought the reader needed to know. Fie! I have opted for the Otte Editing Method (OEM) and decided to eliminate data dump. You now have a short chapter of dialogue instead. I like it much better. It reads better. I don’t get sick reading it. Etc.

Following just enough editing to make my eyes glaze over I went to my church and did some lawn care. No murders today. I admitted the weed whip was smarter than the blogger and put it away after 10 minutes. I only went to college for 7 years (the happiest freshman year anyone ever had) and got three nuclear rocket surgeon degrees. That self-feeding thing is too complicated. Seriously, which way does the cord wind?

I did something I hadn’t done since my knee surgery: I walked about two miles. I figure that’s how far it was to trim all the areas I did at the church with a hand mower. (The grounds cover the better part of a city block.) The deacon will do the riding mower Monday afternoon, and with my thousands of hours of lawn care experience I knew where to trim in advance. Combined with my Roundup murder spree a few weeks ago it was looking pretty good when I got done.

Sweaty, dehydrated, and stiff from the car ride home I made peanut butter sandwiches (with honey) for lunch and took a nap. Bad idea. I’m so stiff I can barely shamble. Good grief – but it felt good to walk that far. It gives me hope for my exercise plan. My knee is fine, I’m just stiff from the overall exertion. The plan to get up and mow my own lawn after the nap fell through. One blast of joint pain per day is my limit. Most of the wild animals that live in the yard can rest assured that the triple-canopy jungle will remain for another 24 hours.

My neighbors have by now returned to their yards after the bear scare – it was me using a clipper on my head. I’d let my hair grow for three weeks and it was timed to return to the skin head. The DNR showed up wanting to know if my wife had a permit to keep me. Boy, does she ever. Filty Filner projects a better image than I do at the moment. I have a head full of stubble that needs a razor more than Richard Nixon in the debates.

Back to the book after a shower. I don’t do the tortured/smelly author thing well. I’d prefer to be hair free and smelling like Lava when I hit the keyboard. Only 40 more chapters to do in the next ten days. No problem. No sleep.

So, what project is keeping you awake and shambling these days?

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