Fire Danger: High!

The 9-volts in all three of the smoke detectors in our apartment - bedroom, office, spare room - ran out of juice sometime during the night. This meant that sometime around 7am, I woke the harmony of three piercing beeps echoing throughout the apartment. My dog, bless him, was losing his mind. He was running back and forth from the bedroom door to the window (mind you, the fastest way between points A and B is across our bed, and more specifically across my bathing suit region) trying to either figure out where the shrieking alien transmission was stemming from or to escape its reach. When he noticed I was awake, he stared at me with panicked eyes that were, at one point projecting both confusion and sick understanding. He then followed me around the house, while my lovely wife grumbled beneath a sadly non-noise canceling pillow helmet, and watch as I stood with wobbly legs on various chairs to vanquish each of the beeping demons.

After, once the house was quiet once again, the dog went back to sleep. He too, was quiet, peaceful. I, however, wasn't so lucky. So here I am, banging away at the keyboard.

I'm going to throw away every alar clock I own. Who needs them? I've got chainsaws, sick dogs and needy smoke detectors to pull me out of bed and get me moving.

Onward!

Workin' it.

Today: sick puppy and work. I've got my hands full, but I promised myself I'd post at least once a day. So, here I am, getting into/maintaining the habit. Hope everyone is sticking to their resolutions an lookin forward to what this year has to offer.

Chainsaw Dreams.

Here's the thing: I can see how quickly you are turning the land around next door. Just last week, the day after Christmas, you began demolition on one of the most dilapidated houses I have ever seen. Online the land's sale profile stated in bold letters, "DO NOT ENTER HOUSE," and from my bedroom I could see the mold and vines growing, twisting in and out of the shack's windows. I'm sure you're in a hurry to get the house taken down and a brand new mold-free house erected in its stead, and I know that legally you can begin jackhammering, bulldozing, and most importantly, chain-sawing at 8am. But seriously, I work in the service industry. I don't know what it feels like to be up at 8am on New Year's Day, or the day after New Year's Day, or any day for that matter.

Yet, here I am. The coffee is brewing. The heat is cranked. And I am writing.

It seems when I began this post, I wanted to run outside and rip the chainsaw free from the hands of the man wearing the Carhartt jacket, scream at him to consider the sleep schedule of others and abscond with his torture device, but now, I'm calm. Seems this was a blessing in disguise. This isn't to say I want the whirring of a cyclical scratcher blade as my alarm clock daily, but for today I can drink my coffee and bang away at my keyboard. Thanks, Demo-Man.

New Year - New Goals.

I will post some of my writing here everyday. Today's sample is pulled from Chapter Five of my novel in progress, "Written on the Walls."

Hope you enjoy.

"Paul watched Helen’s transformation over the years and had, on more than one occasion, considered that what he gave her on a weekly, sometimes daily basis was contributing to her decline. For drug dealers, at least those with some moral compass, justification comes with the territory. Paul had a checklist of responses to each of his own mental accusations: A. I’m not forcing it up her nose, right? B. There’s no gun to her head. C. She’s a big girl and can make her own choices. D. I’m a good person. Each of which satisfied him only slightly until the person in question had gone away. If Helen ever told him that she might have a problem, Paul was confident that he’d not sell even a granule to her, no matter how evergreen her trust fund was.

“Whatever. No big deal. She’ll come back. She ain’t gonna find anyone better than me.”

“I’m sure she’ll come back,” he told her, thinking that there was no way in hell that could be true. Paul retracted his arms from around her neck and slid the small baggie into the collar of her v-neck sweater. He made sure that it was tucked securely in her bra before pulling away fully. Paul added a new mental justification then, E. I’m leaving tomorrow, she won’t be able to get anymore once I’m gone. She’ll turn herself around, before settling on F. Fuck it, All of the Above."

Thanks for reading guys!

Drew

Countdown.

One week from today I will be leaving for my last residency at Pacific University. Barring any unforeseen meltdowns, I will have my thesis review, deliver my critical introduction and graduate with my Masters in Fine Arts. I can't believe two years have already come and gone. But in that time I've learned more than I thought possible and made some of the best friends, colleagues, and connections I could have hoped for. The first ten chapters of my novel are truly something for me to be proud of. I worked my ass off to get them into shape.

It's been an absolute blessing to be a part if this program and to feel a part of this community. And honestly, I don't think I'm ready for it to be over.

And here are a few links to my other outlets (shameless self promotion to cultivate my ecosystem):

facebook.com/drew.attana
twitter: @drewattana
instagram: drewromance

Please follow me if you are on any of these, and maybe you'll get a laugh or two from my daily ridiculousness.

Rebirth.

While this blog will still be tracking the progress of my novel, I will also be posting about my interests, my future endeavors and general "best-of" lists. Basically, I need an outlet and this will be it. I hope you enjoy. Looking forward to this new year. #OwnIt