There are few things that bring me joy like the emergence of My Mutant, the mess of vines my mother and I planted in the backyard almost a decade ago, for which I built a bonkers trellis this time last year.
So, despite this being the most stressful period of the year, it is aided by My Mutant. It makes sense that some of my Project 25:365 stuff would involve it.
I even took my easel out so I could paint by the monstrosity.
I liked what I ended up making on that very warm, sunny day.
I also worked on Last, my very haphazard post-apocalyptic story, which is now around 11,000 words. I don’t know if it’s going anywhere, but it’s a distraction from the pre-apocalyptic nightmare of reality.
I did something that’s either clever or lazy, I’m not sure which yet: I took “In the Wasteland,” another story I wrote last week, and tried to make it the origin story of Last’s narrator. It could be very dumb, but my thinking about the character has changed since I started Last in January. I think he’s not a good guy. I also think he’s delusional. That hadn’t been my intent, but he seems to be driven in that direction.
The inclusion of “In the Wasteland” also inadvertently gave the narrator a name: Carl, my actual middle name.
The name is a go-to for me because I’m named for my grandfather (our middle name), a man I never met but for whom I have enormous respect. I’ve written about him in the past, and he wasn’t anything like the narrator of Last.
I also finished my very first MFA class. It was amazing, and I ended up with several essays I’m proud of and will be submitting for publication after some revision. I think, despite the financial strain, I made the right choice to pursue another degree. Build things, don’t break things.
One of those essays is about another ancestor. It needs a lot of revision and probably can’t work as a single essay (I’ll add it to the ever-expanding list of book ideas).
”Twelve-Tone Trains” also came from an assignment. I’m starting to look for publication options for it. Next week I start a new class, so . . .