I have decided I am an adult. I am also known to swear from time to time, usually for emphasis but sometimes just because a good swear word says more than 30 other words could. I apologize if swear words offend you, but I am no longer going to warn you they exist in a blog post.
I’m not a pirate and I’m not one of those people that puts swear words in for shock effect, so my posts are not going to be littered with “fuck this and fuck that and blah blah”. I do understand the English language enough to know when and where to use swear words (maybe don’t read my blog posts in a church) and I’ve never been gung ho on taking the lord’s name in vain… this means most of my swear words are damn, shit, and fuck. I’m not a huge fan of bitch, so this one is unlikely to appear anywhere but in this post unless I’m reading a really awful book with a female character that would make better fertilizer than social company.
Mostly, I’m exercising my right to free speech, even free offensive speech and letting you exercise your right not to read it. I’m really being bothered by free speech lately. It’s like a small infection has started in my brain and is now taking over. I don’t know why really, I’ve always known there was doom and gloom on the horizon with regards to our rights, especially freedom of speech.
One morning we are all going to wake up and find that we have freedom of speech, so long as we agree with everyone else. At which point, I’ll be trying to emigrate to a slightly less fascist country.
But then again, I do what I do because of my right to freedom of speech. I might get accused of promoting violence against women by having a serial killer skin them alive, but I still have the right to say it and write it, just like someone else still has the right to tell people I’m a sicko for writing it or even thinking it. I realize Predator (yes from the movies and comics) gets away with it because he mostly skins men and we don’t care about that, it bothers us more when it’s women (oh the backlash if I had written Elysium Dreams with child victims). Of course, I have issues with child victims… Much easier to kill a woman than a kid, even in my head. Cannibal Dreams gave me nightmares and it was the age of the victims not the content.
As strange as it sounds, even fictional kids and animals are a no-go-zone for my mind. I tried to shoot a moose at the beginning of Demonic Dreams and couldn’t even pull that off. I kept wondering what the hell the moose did to deserve to die? Nothing, he was just being a moose, so he lived.
Speaking of which, I have decided part of my writing problem isn’t just pain. I mean, there is that. I have trouble thinking when I hurt, at least logically thinking, and the first 2 chapters of Demonic Dreams are a complete disaster that I will need to fix before I send it to the editor. The other part, I am conditioned to smoke while writing. I know, smoking is unhealthy, nasty, and bad, but I’m a smoker and when I write, I chain smoke, mostly by letting them burn out in the ashtray. However, we don’t smoke in the house anymore, so my habit of lighting cigarettes and letting them burn out is saving me money, but it was also part of my routine and I am working to build a new routine with limited success and may have to spend a few nights with my computer parked in the garage – where I can smoke – to get through Demonic Dreams at the breakneck speed that I need since it was delayed by Tramadol and pain and buying a house and then moving…
You get the picture. We’ll see what this weekend brings on it.