Hi, this is another one of those blogs where I drop the hoity-toity “P. W.” and I talk to you man to monitor (or smartphone or whatever magic device you’re reading this on). You can call me Jim.
I don’t know why I do the things I do. I write speculative screenplays for a cartoon that’s been off the air for fourteen years and I only occasionally fantasize about sending my scripts to the creator of the show in hopes of a Netflix revival. But I’ve taken that fantasy to the next level and I have started to physically become Coach McGuirk.
I’m almost thirty years old and I put on a Halloween costume – and I liked it. When you get to my age, you want to have one solid costume that you can reuse every year. A forever costume. Some say you don’t choose your forever costume, your forever costume chooses you. Regardless, every Halloween from here on out I will reemerge with my dated cartoon reference that no one understands and I have to explain over and over.
Another update, I know a lot of you were concerned about the depression of my cat, who is also my editor. He’s doing well, just trying to make it day-to-day while also editing everything I write. Today I caught him just looking in the mirror, contemplating being a cat.
My goal is to finish my novel by February 28th, 2019, but it’s hard to concentrate when my cat (and editor) is having an existential crisis in the mirror. Luckily, he’s having a cat nap right now so when he wakes up he’ll be in the mood to get back to work.
The real question is: When will I take this Halloween costume off or have I become the costume?
James P. W. Martin 