The Great Echoing Hollowness and Other Stories About the Inside of My Head

My Greatest Adventure 6 000

So.  In the process of writing another post, I came across the above image in this blog’s media files.

Not a bad little cover.  Does its job, it does.

I can’t for the life of me tell you why I’d want to talk about it.

I know it was important enough to make a copy of, but not why.

Looking up the post it’s attached to did me no good.  That would be yet another essay doing what every right thinking comic book fan should be doing.  (And if you just thought “Praising Power Girl?” either you’re a reader with refined tastes or me.  Because I forgot what I’d linked to here.)

In case you didn’t click-through, that particular post was all about a completely different comic cover.  There’s no possible way to connect this one to that one.  Unless you do it under the banner of being covers that caught my interest some how.  A broad connection, to be sure.

It makes me wonder how many more of these images I’ve got in my media files that I have no idea why they’re there.

Going through my writing files, I’ve come across story titles that have no stories.  Not even a note to tell me what I was thinking.

Sometimes this can lead to amusing moments, I admit.  But man, am I tired of doing that.

One of the many reasons for changing my life.

Well There Went THAT Idea

I was climbing up into bed last night when I suddenly realized I hadn’t posted anything here.  As my bed time is midnight and I usually stay up a little past, this proved to be a problematic insight.

Oops.  There goes the every post in February thing.  Oh well.  Good thing I don’t get paid for these things.

On the outline front, I have another partial completed, one I like quite a bit.  I now need at least one more before moving from this here Stage Two to that there Stage Three.

On the review front, I’ve looked at the Godzilla box but have yet to watch the film.  A fact I find depressing.

However! I intend a new feature here at this blog called Cullen Reads?  in which I review a book, short story, whatever ever week.  I hope to have one up every Monday, which means I’ll be posting again later today.  Unless I forget.  In which case the first one will go up next week.  Unless I forget again.

Finally, to make this post have a nice, warm, fuzzy feel, here’s a picture of Power Girl considering causing a great deal of pain to someone who probably deserves it.



I have about half a post written today, talking about my latest attempt at outlining.  I was going to post it today, start a process, a dialogue if only with myself, that would lead to writing outlines.  Had about six ideas up and ready to go.

Only just a couple of minutes ago, the little nut bar part of my head said, “Um, no.  No you aren’t.”

From the start, I’ve had problems posting my fiction on-line.  BIG PROBLEMS.  I get so afraid that someone’s going to steal my stuff.

It’s ridiculous.

It’s also happened to me once already.  But as that was a poem based on a copy written character it didn’t bother me that much.

Writers have post things online, had people read them, and gone off to great success.  John Dies at the End, The Martian, stuff like that.

Besides, the number of people who read this blog is low.  Like one person at best low.

It also feels like I’m insulting my readers, insinuating things, which I don’t mean in the slightest.

Like the title said, I’m being paranoid.  Nut bar.

I just can’t help it.

It’s bizarre that not once has this stopped me from talking about Goblinstomper.  It’s like Goblinstomper’s a little thing while everything else is SUPER BIG IMPORTANT.

Let me see if I can’t find a way of doing my intended series without the nervous Nelly in me going into fits.

We might be going back to Goblinstomper quicker than I thought…

Status Report #1,728

Today wasn’t exactly a banner day for me working, but I managed to do some.  I did some prep on the outline series (not outlining the outline series, mind you, that would be totally anal, but now that I said that, hmmm…) and fiddled a little on Goblinstomper.  I also started the “anthology” idea.  If you look up at the top of the page (or just click here) you’ll find a new link called Odd Tales.  Only one story is there, but we’ll be seeing more soon.  When the Carolers Sing will definitely be up there, and maybe the whole Strange Dialogue series.  I’ve noticed a habit of doing a mild form of editing, so I’m a little hesitant to go whole hog on this, but who knows?  In any case, I’ll mention updates to it when they happen.

Might even put up a special widget for it over at the side. Hmmm, part two.

Tomorrow might, I say again might, be a miss day.  Rumor has it Mom’s being discharged tomorrow and I’d like to be there and ready to go iffin it happens.  You make her wait too long, she has a nasty habit of walking home all on her own.

She’s using the walker these days and has pains in the knees, but I’m not taking any chances.

Anyways, it’s been forever since I’ve posted any sketches and there seems to be a couple nice ones sitting on my desk.  So that might be tomorrow’s fair.

So What’s Up With Mr. Waters This February?

My track record for planning things out is abysmal.  I’ll often say I’m going to do something, only not to follow through.  Sometimes with cause, sometimes… less so.

Let’s see if I can change that.

Above and beyond posting something every day, I plan to do the following:

  • I’m still working on Goblinstomper.  I’ve cut back with Mom in the hospital (the heart really isn’t in it) but it hasn’t really left my thoughts.  I don’t want to stop out right, either, as that’s the way my projects tend to die.  So my intent is at least one progress post every weekend.  Saturday, maybe.  I reserve the right to post any time on the matter for any reason.  Oh, and the thirtieth post on the subject will be a joke post.  I think we can all guess why.
  • I’m considering building an anthology of sorts here on site, collecting my best stories and maybe even my… ugh… poems.  It’ll have its own page at the top of this site, and serve as a sort of sampling of my writing talents (or lack thereof (except my best stories are really, really quite adequate, so I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of there.))
  • I want to watch at the very least one movie this month and do a review for it over at the Sister Site.  So there might be a few “ads” for that.  I might “take a few days off” to do a Whale or some such (expect snark on comic art and/or more babbling about Power Girl.)
  • I’m also working on novel outlines this month.  If I learned anything from last NaNoWriMo (hell, the last eleven NaNos) is that I’m not a pantser.  I can’t come up with a story on the fly.  I need some structure, some place to hold up the proverbial coat and hat.  I’ve been fiddling with a process involving the ideas and advice of some of the better writers out there.  It helped a little with last year’s NaNo (though not enough) and hopefully it’ll put me closer to sealing the deal.  I intend to have three outlines written by the end of this month, and I figure I can maybe make some entertaining posts out of the process.
  • Here’s where I prove I’m insane.  I said three outlines, I have a purpose for them already.  One will be for the NaNoWriMo in November; another will be for the NaNoWriMo they have in July (Camp NaNoWriMo).  The third (and here’s where I step into the land of crazed) is an attempt at writing a novel in three days.  60,ooo words, three days, from a guy who thinks a 2,000 word day is just awesome.  It’ ain’t happening, you know it, I know it, but I’m going to try it anyways.  If I don’t hit three days, I’ll try to finish in a week.  Then two weeks.  Or some slightly more rational amount of time.
  • There will be no posts saying I’m not posting that day.  If I have something to say (even if it’s minor), I’m going to say it.  Otherwise I won’t.  A daily schedule only helps if I actually do my job.  Shocking thought, there, I know.

That’s the plan.  Whether or not any of it comes to plan or I explode or something, I can’t say.  As a deucedly handsome fellow once said “Here’s to hoping that something fun develops.”

This February and beyond.

Real World Woes

Last night my Mother went into the hospital.  This is the third time we’ve done this, the last time being last month.  Each time its been for an infection, one she’s not shaking very well.  A part of this might be her age, a part might be other problems she’s been having.  I don’t want to get into that.

This time we got here in far earlier than the last couple of times.  She’s on the antibiotic that quelled the problem last time, things look positive.

Except I’m worst case scenarioing every possible outcome like mad in my head.

Something I do without reason quite enough, thanks.  That there may be cause for alarm just gives it that more of a “DO NOT WANT” favor.

With this mind-set, I’m not sure I can blog the way I’d like to blog.  The funny does not come, and I’d like these to be reasonably funny.

The trouble is, this month I’ve tried to get into the habit of posting at least once a day.  Stopping isn’t conducive to that.  On this, just because my silly brain keeps harping on the negative, doesn’t mean the negative will come.

In fact, its track record have been quite poor and you’d think it would realize this and stop by now.  But.  No.

So until I can resume posting on Goblinstomper the way I want to post, I’m not doing any write ups for it.  I’m still working on the game (I’ve been fiddling with puzzles for the ruins today).  I’m just not talking about it.

Hopefully tomorrow will be better.  If not… I’ll deal.  Not like I’ve got a choice in the matter, right?

Goblinstomper! Development Diary (IX) : Not Every Day is a High Content Day

Ugh.  Not only did I spend hours on something I later found I could do in game, I had RPGMaker crash on me, taking with it some unsaved work.


Right now I’m fiddling with the opening cut-scene.  Nothing major, just giving it a bit more life as well as prepping more content.  I’m setting a note here so in Future Days I can go back and check what I’ve done.

And I like the idea of the title count matching the day of the month.  I’m weird that way.

Hopefully better content tomorrow.

The Marriage of Emily

What’s a Welltun Care Presents series without at least one interruption?

I figure now is as good a time as any to mention that Dread Cousin Emily has gotten married.

I know.  Who would have thought that would ever happen?

Anyways, it happened on the 23rd of December last year.  It wasn’t a big ta-do or anything, more of a signing of papers.  Still, for some reason her most favorite and bestest cousin wasn’t invited.  Neither was I, for that matter.  Rumor has it that my vow to scream “Fly you fool!” at the groom when the statement “If anyone has any objections speak now or forever hold your peace” was spoken might have been a deciding factor on that score.

Happily, though, there was someone who played my role for me.  When the official in charge of the service said those twelve magic words, Emily’s daughter, Glorious Little Cousin Elise let loose a piercing scream.  Up until that point the little infant had been perfectly silent.  It was almost as if she was waiting for that very moment.  As if coached for weeks ahead of time by some deucedly  handsome man.

But I’m sure that’s not even possible.

Or is it?

In any case, congratulations to Emily and Emily’s Husband Lance.  Lots of happiness for the both of them.

Met Lance a couple of times at family get-together, but never actually talked to him.  Wonder what horrible thing he did in a past life to deserve this fate?  Poor guy…

My Thoughts on the Election

I hate politics with a fiery, burning passion.

Oh, politics are interesting to read about, the moving and grooving of opinion, this, that, and the other.  But only in fiction or in the history books.  Anything more modern that twenty years ago and odds are good I’m going to be irritable when it’s brought up.  And sometimes red-hot furious, depending on the subject

This election, though, I thought I’d might like to say something.  Maybe because I’m up so early in the morning, for once not as a night owl but as a guy who’s been going to bed and rising at regular times, and four am ain’t one of them.

When Barrack Obama became President, I cringed.  Not because of anything he had done or said, or for who he was.  Because I knew that whenever anyone said anything that might be interpreted as critical about him there would be an immediate cry of “Racist!”  And I spent eight years being pretty much right about that.

What I didn’t expect to see–and maybe I was being foolish–was that this would become the default response for pretty much everything.  You make the wrong comment about women, you’re a misogynist.  You say the wrong thing about gays and you were homophobic.  In fact, if you weren’t toeing the right line, you probably were -phobic, with whatever it is they thought you were against put in on the left.

Now when there’s general wrong doing, well and good.  That’s not how it happens.

For instance.

In 2014 a group of gaming journalist were up in arms over the mistreatment of a female game designer.  She received (and for all I know continues to receive) hateful email and what not.  These journalists wrote simultaneous articles condemning all gamers (that is to say people who play video games as a serious hobby) as misogynist basement dwellers who didn’t want women in video games.

Not just the gamers who sent the emails.  You know.  The ones who deserved condemnation.  All gamers.

Including me, apparently.  Thirty some years a gamer and I’d never known I was supposed to be keeping women out of the culture.  What was I doing with my time?

When people complained about this, the game journalists and their allies began to do things such as referring to the complainers as worse than ISIS.  You know.  The terrorist group.  The one that kills people.

I would simply love to be making that up.

In 2015 and again to a lesser extent this year journalists referred to the Science Fiction literary group known as Sad Puppies as racists, homophobic, and misogynists because they tried to get certain names on an awards ballot.  The word “Nazi” even came up.  Never mind that there was a wide selection of people chosen for the awards.  Never mind that women had been picked to run the silly group this year and, I assume, next.  The Puppies didn’t behave as they were supposed to do, thus.

Then again in 2015 we have Nobel Prize-winning biologist Tim Hunt who told a joke during a speech about not wanting women in the lab.  He was needless to say publicly humiliated and lost his career over it.  Never mind that in the people there realized he wasn’t being serious when he said it.  Two journalist did not and they destroyed him for it.

On and on.

The problem being with attacks like this, the slinging of names, is that like in the Hunt case they all too often worked.  Lives ruined, and sometimes over words.  Just words.

Yesterday the American people elected Donald Trump as the 45th president of the United States.  This has shocked a lot of people, what with him being often described as a misogynist, Islamophobic, and no doubt other words describing hatefulness.  They can’t believe it’s happened.  They’ve even begun suggesting that his win means that entirely too many Americans are like him

I’m not among these people.  I’ve suspected Trump would win for some time.  And here in the odd hours of the morning I’ve come up with a theory about why.

My father had a favorite poem.  He kept it on his desk where he worked, and as I’ve always appreciated it I’ve set it down on my site for pretty much its entire existence.  It’s by Stephen Crane and it goes something like this:

“Think as I think,” said a man,
“Or you are abominably wicked;
You are a toad.”

And after I had thought of it,
I said, “I will, then, be a toad.”

I think the majority of Americans just declared they’re alright with being called a toad.  That they are tired of being called names and quite frankly dehumanized whenever their thoughts and ideas don’t mesh with other people.

I also think the anti-Trump people don’t realize this at all.

I don’t like Trump.  I wish he wasn’t the President of the United States.  I wish the Democratic party had put up a candidate for every American and not just the ones they didn’t find deplorable.

That didn’t happen, and for four years, barring something terrible happening, Donald Trump is the President of the United States.  Maybe it’s the worst thing that’s happened to this country.  Maybe it’s the best.  We’re going to find out no matter what side we were on or who we voted for.

What we need to do as a people in the next four years is find a way to communicate with one another.  To actually listen.  To understand each other.  To be flexible in our thoughts and in how we relate to one another.  To be at times willing to give people the benefit of the doubt and not assuming the worst possible motives.  To not hurt people because they said something perceived as unpleasant.

This is my hope, my wish, my prayer.

As it has been for the past forty-three years of my life.

You can see how well that’s worked so far.