I’m an Adult and I Put on a Halloween Costume

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.

The transformation is nearly complete.

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.

Chewy taking a hard look at his life.

My goal is to finish my novel by February 28^th, 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?

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“My Cat Is Depressed,” And 99 Other Reasons I Didn’t Write A Blog Post Today

I’m writing a novel, I’m writing a blog, I have a life, and I like to keep up to date with books, movies and music.  I’m only one person and I only have 24 hours in a day, so I’ve been delegating editing work to my cat.  I know what you’re going to say, “Jim, just hire a human editor to proof-read your work.”  I’m sorry I can’t afford that right now.  Everything I write has to go by my cat before it gets published.  Subsequently, my cat is depressed and is feeling extra lethargic.  He’s still working through what I wrote for him two days ago and his mood is not picking up.  As you can imagine, with my editor D.I.A. (depressed in action), it’s impossible to get any work done which is why I haven’t written a blog post in the last few days.

I’m going to the store later tonight to buy some catnip in hopes that will brighten his mood and get him back on track so that I can finish a blog post in (hopefully) the next day or two.  But, of course, I don’t want my cat to be reliant on elicit substances in order to function.  So I’ll just start by micro-dosing the catnip – not me of course, my cat.  I mean, why would I micro-dose catnip, that would be pointless, I’m a human.  It’s that kind of thinking that makes me need a cat-editor in the first place.

Look at me.  My cat doesn’t edit a single post and the entire blog falls to shit.  I can’t even write one blog post without my cat fixing my blunders and making sense of it.  I guess I’ll never be a real writer.  Not until my cat is feeling better, that is.  Now you know the truth of how my sad little sausage is made.  I write barely-comprehendible garbage and my cat edits it down to something easily digestible, unlike whatever he’s currently throwing up on my rug.

So, I apologize for this blog post, hopefully my cat is feeling better soon and gets back to editing my long-winded dribble, so that I can return to publishing quality blog posts regularly.