Pisaries Creator

I don’t know about you, as a writer, but I love to start new stories about three to four pages in and then it sort of sits there. I’m struggling still with my second novel idea. I quit working on my third novel idea. I got inspiration from a few books I’m sporadically reading and my own personal experiences, and a part of what I wrote is below. Some authors say a novel is never really ever finished. A writer can go back and rewrite it until death comes for him or her, and it never gets published. I’m nowhere near this in terms of mental torture and what a lousy and self-defeating concept to begin with for a creative person. I recognize the need to get back and focus. I know I’m not the only one who struggles with this. Most people are great with concepts but making those concepts into novels is much more difficult. I don’t need to tell you the process is lengthy. I feel I’m stuck in the mindset of Charlie Kaufman yet wanting to be Stephen King yet wondering if caring so much about it in the first place is stupid. I suppose having battles within my own head instead of with someone is better. Although not having them at all would be the most ideal. I guess I’m on a journey to the second half of my life.

The two greatest things about riding in a car with someone you have nothing in common with in appearance and personality is you have someone to complain to when the air conditioning isn’t working while driving through one of the hottest states in the U.S. and there is no chance you will agree on any subject, so when you are tired of looking at the scenery out the window and can’t read anymore because you can’t concentrate, there’s nothing better than a controversial subject to take your mind off the misery existing inside.

Now, I could say this adventure started in some miraculous way. If I did, I would be starting this experience, however short, as a lie. I was never a suitable person in people’s eyes. I never tried to fit in, never kissed ass to get ahead, and never faked my way through life. Maybe, if I was comfortable doing any one of these things or a combination of them, I would be telling a different story. The actual start time was when a stranger approached me with a solution to what he thought was a common problem among society, including me and maybe because I wore a t-shirt with a childlike drawing of a dinosaur with a caption that said, why are dinosaurs worth so much money?’, he felt more compelled to bring me with him.

When I asked him what problem he was speaking of, he replied with “everything and everyone but the fact you are asking me tells me all I need to know.” He was one of those people who took this hippy dippy shit a little too seriously. Still, I nodded my head and followed him to his jalopy car. His car’s name was Craig II. It was the size of a Pinto and the color of yellow puke. When I asked him what kind of car it was, he told me it was a hodge podge of different parts from different cars in a junkyard his friend owned. The only reason he was in possession of this clunker instead of a car with four working doors and four unison wheels was because he had lost a card bet with the same friend.  His friend’s name was Craig. Upon losing his semi-normal looking car, Craig had taken pity on him and offered him his rusted, poorly hand painted, four different size tires car until he decided what his next car should be.

I should make clear, the stranger who approached me was only partly a stranger to me. He was more of an acquaintance. I had seen him a few times entering and leaving the grocery store I frequented once a week after work. My assumption was he only ate once a day because he always had a few items in his hands. Never had I seen him carry a bag filled with food and never ever had I seen him trying to juggle an overpacked bag. I compared him to a court jester. He had only two sides. I had rarely seen one. I did not particularly care to see the other. This was before I lost my job. My view had changed because I was fed up with life. I was all in for new experiences, to whatever would happen to us, to unknown fates.