Worked on that G.K. Chesterton essay, only to switch it to a back-burner. But his observations remain jaw-droppingly prescient and very worth your while. We’ll return someday, hopefully.
Meanwhile I am hoping…praying…to resume writing, and more seriously than ever before. There are three big projects in mind. In reverse order of (current) importance:
#3: An e-book. Title?
RADIOACTIVE BABOON ON CRACK:
ATOMIC ANECDOTES OF A NUCLEAR NOMAD.
Long-suffering visitors will remember “atomic anecdotes” from the Fukushima days. Possibly even the legendary-but-true R.B.o.C. himself.
There are many more such tidbits from my run-down but quite roomy memory palace. “Anecdotes” could be a fun and sometimes hilarious work. But to be truly memorable it needs numerous light-hearted illustrations. Like a heavily-sedated, highly radioactive baboon. In a diaper.
Obviously such images are crystal-clear in the mind’s eye; the trick is transmitting them down the nervous system, out of the hand, and onto the page. IE, I’m a terrible artist.
(I did mention “heavily-sedated”, right? Because when that job was assigned my thought wasn’t “Oh no! Radioactive baboon!” It was, “Baboon on crack?!”)
Next! Project #2: full-length movie script. Title?
The Mark of Cain.
Can’t share the story twist here, as it’s easily filchable. Stolenable? Confiscationish!
Anyway, not only is it a grade-A “high-concept”, it’s perfect to torture the protagonist, a Christian (or is he?) attorney. Which makes this an attempt to merge a C.S. Lewis classic with a big-budget Hollywood thriller.
I believe the word for that is “ambitious”? (Not a term ever applied to me before.) Thus the creative muscles need lots of work prior to tackling this.
And so, #1. It is…believe it or not…a stand-up comedy routine. I’ve not done stand-up for 16 or 17 years, so much more than writing discipline must be regained. Health, appearance, voice, timing, presence, etc. etc. Ugh. Stand-up is probably the most difficult Performance Art of all.
(And it’s certainly the scariest.)
But that’s where I am. Until yesterday I’d forgotten how important it was to me, 18 years ago, to discover if God has a sense of humor. (SPOILER ALERT: He does.)
So that’s it. I’ll go ahead and assume your forgiveness for not providing the usual pedantic, high-falutin’ essay. On, literally, What’s Wrong With the World.
Oh wait! I didn’t share Project #1’s title. Let’s just drop a hint and let you guess. And since the hint is one of the two sexiest songs ever recorded…you’re welcome.
All the best guys!