For years I've been told by many people, "Steven, you need to write a book." So I'm guessing that there are those who enjoy reading what I write, or just want to keep me distracted from realizing my plans of world domination. I hope that it's the former, otherwise they might be disappointed. I can multitask. The good news is that I've been at work on what will hopefully end up as a completed novel one day in the foreseeable future. 

I am the kind of person who needs to know as much about something as I possibly can before I attempt it. Since I never attended creative writing classes, don't have a MFA and didn't even pass the 9th grade in high school, I've been teaching myself what I need to know to tell stories well, in written form. You, my readers, will be the final judges of that. 

One of the tools I have to aid me in the learning process is "The Write-Brain Workbook" by Bonnie Neubauer. I like how it's about practice. All you need is a pen and ten minutes a day- you can write right in the book if you want. 366 exercises each of which gives you a starting phrase, an ending sentence, a series of challenging words to incorporate, a fill-in-the-blanks character to create and more. It's about keeping the writing as it should be: fun. 

Starting with the first exercise, I'm going to work each of them and share the results with you here on my personal blog. No editing. No refinement. Just me having fun. Day 1 gives you twelve words, out of which you choose three to use in the story. I chose: exercise, flatulence, lamb. The story is to begin with: Sometimes I feel just like a gerbil, running around and around on his wheel! Here we go... 

Sometimes I feel just like a gerbil, running around and around on his wheel! Going nowhere, fast. Listen up, 'cause I've something I want to get off my chest. Know why you don't hear about demonic possession anymore? I'm one of the reasons why. That and the fact these modern day quacks stick the possessed into institutions, diagnose them as mentally ill and treat them with drugs. If I were to tell them I'm an exorcist and could help with their "patients", they'd have me right in there doing the Thorazine-shuffle with the rest of the crazies faster than you can say psychopathologicaldisassociaton. And yes, I know I've got to be crazy to stay in a line of work where projectile vomit and deadly flatulence are serious occupational hazards, and aren't due to the breakroom food from the vending machines. Gives a whole new meaning to "silent but deadly." These demons are getting more and more savvy, too. The cases of sociopathy have increased exponentially within our society and you don't wonder why? It ain't the water, people. The demon-possessed are amongst us, and I'd like to think they're keeping a low profile to prevent me from catching up with them. That's not the whole story though. Something big is brewing. Something in bold letters, written in something that resembles red paint, dripping down a piece of cardboard held by someone you consider crazy, and it reads something like "THE END IS NIGH!" So no, I don't really want to be in this line of work but I don't see people lining up to volunteer for the Lamb of God's army. Try to write me off as just another nutcase. But part of you knows what I'm saying is the truth. I've disrupted your little world of self-imposed ignorance, and that makes you mad. The way you look at things will never be the same. What you do now is entirely up to you. And by the way. . . good luck with the elections. You're gonna need it.  

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