I’m currently on the road with my old pal Ari Hest; I was able to take off work for a few days to help him out on tour for a few nights. Yesterday was a day off, and I spent the vast majority of it in a hotel room in Durham, North Carolina.

I had hoped to make some progress on the novel, and I wrote a few paragraphs, most of which will probably be cut later on. Still, I consider it progress. I just wish it would happen faster.

I’m sitting in a coffee shop in Charlotte right now, killing time before we have to set up for tonight’s show. It’s hard to think between the cappuccino machine, the Spin Doctors song in the foreground, the whistling customer and the other one talking on his cell phone. I apologize if this post makes no sense. I blame these things.

I got an idea for my next novel recently, and just the other day I combined it with another idea I had for a short story. I think it has promise, and I’m really excited about getting into it, but I think it should wait until my current project is finished. I wish I could tell you all about it, but that would simultaneously ruin the surprise and open my work up to theft, two things I’m trying to be careful about.

This whistling guy needs to have his lips removed. And his arms, too. He’s tapping on the table while he whistles.

Writing a book is hard work. Especially when you have a full-time job. Especially when that full-time job is second shift.

I’m trying to work my way through Chapter Four little by little. The few people who have read the first three chapters want to see more, and my lack of progress over the past year or so has probably got some of them wondering if I’ll ever finish this thing.

Someone recently gave me this advice: a page a day is a book a year. This is true, but I’d rather write a book in two or three years naturally than force myself to write one in a year. Although a page a day sounds like a reasonable and attainable goal, writing isn’t as simple as sitting down and typing it out. Any decent writer knows that forced writing is crap writing.

I’ve been more inspired lately to get back to writing this novel, but the biggest obstacle now is time. Eight hours sleeping, eight hours at work and four hours in between each. Between running errands, showering, cooking, eating and entertainment, there isn’t much time to get anything done at all. I have a week of vacation coming up the first week of September and I’m holding out hope for some real progress.

I’ll keep you posted.

I’ve always been a writer. When I was a kid I kept irregular journals and concocted weird stories inspired by wild animals, monsters, video game characters and drunk hillbillies.

A couple of years ago, as I was washing dishes, I got the idea for my current work-in-progress. I need to finish the story and establish my copyright before I start giving specific plot details, but I’m hoping it will be something people will enjoy, connect with and take something from.