As I get older, I feel like ranting and raving more and more. I was talking with someone the other day who told me he had no patience anymore, and then he said that he must be getting old. I guess that’s the curse of wisdom.

These days I have had other duties than my writing and my great library of published works. It wears on me after about four days and I start getting itchy about putting more stuff up, editing and writing. I have so many of these dark tales swirling around in my head (always have) and they need egress and when I find myself sitting there talking to someone over an email chat about webhosting and nameservers, I get impatient. Well, why not? I need to get back to the land of make believe and spin more dark tales.

(What a nut job!)

This week I was also obsessively checking my book sales stats and as they say, :”this way leads to madness.” I think I am only checking them because I have been stuck on other duties rather than writing the next episode and the next and the next and the next. The problem with checking your book sales stats is this: they are always bad. It’s like trying to diagnose your health over the internet. Have you ever noticed that no matter what you look up, an itch, a pimple, an ache, it all leads to death. It’s just amazing how that is online.

Book stats though, they are never enough. One takes it way too personally. One title goes up and you sit back and say, what about all the other ones! Then the other one goes up and you say, yeah, but what about the last one! And on and on down the rabbit hole we go.

Speaking of rabbit holes, I have been binge watching 11.22.63 on Hulu, the new Stephen King time travel JFK series. I liked it so much I bought the audio book, and you know a funny thing happened: I think the mini series is better than the book. I really do and that doesn’t happen very often, but when it does, it throws me a little. I found the same with Twilight, I liked the movie, was bored with the book.

Anyway, it’s not that I am in a rush to publish, I am in a rush to write because these stories want out. They want to be told, they brim over the edge of my brain pan and they don’t shut off. They really don’t. I don’t look at it as a curse, though. It’s great fun. I love it.

The curse is everything that gets in the way of the telling of the vision. Except for the new puppy. She’s just so sweet, there’s no curse there.

Anyway, that’s my rant.

Episode 5 of The Hidden is done and published. It’s called The Hidden: Play the Game. It is the final episode of season 1.

 

And I have episode 1 of season 2 about 90% done. But I have got to sink some time into season 2 (The Uncounted) in order to get that really coming along, because this other thing showed up in the middle of listening to my HP Lovecraft’s greatest hits book. It was, well, stunning is not the right word, but it was stunning. I was spirited away as they say, sent into the future to witness the coming invasion. I feel morally responsible to write about in a weird way, too.