Headaches. 10/3/2021

Hello.

I started this blog in January when I was struck down by covid. 

I was 32 then. I turned 33 in February shortly after that, and now it's on its way around again. I'll be 34. Bloody hell. 

What am I going to do? I'm getting old fast. 

I have seven dollars and seventy-two cents in my bank account, with a payday at least a week out. It hasn't been this bad for a good while. The Sahara desert has swept through my finances, and I'm thirsty. 

I have many projects I'm working on: The novel The Boy in the Shed(still...). The prologue became its own novelette called The Culling. I started the outline for it already. The short film, The Red of Scum Ave, is in its third draft. I don't know what will happen if that doesn't make a splash in the film festival circuit. The horror short for Bad Films Productions, The First Wife, is outlined. I need more time to write the first draft, maybe after November. Finally, the feature film, The Exaggerated Tale of Pearl Hart, the Lady Bandit, is outlined. Well, all the beats are. The flesh needs massaging and kink out, but it's getting good feedback. We are going to the American Film Market in November. Fingers crossed.

Is that too many projects to work on at once? 

The other day, I discovered something about my work: Most of my main characters are female. Isn't that odd? The only point of view I look through as a writer is a dude and an American. But...interestingly enough, the characters are chicas. Curious. What does that mean for me? WHAT DOES IT MEAN!? Wait, I'm lonely and finding companionship through the characters. No...no, that's not right. Maybe mommy issues?

I have a lot of headaches now. I think I'm dehydrated. Let us hope that's the cause. 

I'm a hypochondriac.