insert clever title here

I'm just coming down from one of my children's 3rd birthday party. It's now 11.56 pm. All in all it has been a very successful day of being a father. I swam with the 3 year old, played quasi-father to my fiancee's best friends 4 year old. I spent time building legos and a Thomas the Train track which was overly complicated.

I then took the dog for a walk to pay our babysitter money owed then came back and not only did I watch an old 80s movie (Can't Buy Me Love) with my honey, I also stepped up my Dad game by helping cheer up my now 7 year old and get her back to sleep after a nightmare attack of being chased by ghosts.

"Goats?" I asked.
"No, ghoath," she replied with a small lisp as her two front teeth are now gone.
"Goats?" I repeated.
"Ghoath," she repeated again, not aware yet that I was teasing her.
"Ghost goats? Why are you afraid of ghost goats?"

By this time she had started to smile and after getting her a glass of water, a cold wet cloth for her head, removing the bobbing balloon that was scaring her from her room, closing the bathroom door so it wouldn't creak and leaving the light on a little bit, not to mention the good night kiss, I went back down to finish watching the movie with my wonderful soon-to-be wife who frequently comments on how wonderful a father I am and how much she loves me despite be being fired last Tuesday.

We finished the movie and went to bed where I waited until I thought she was asleep, petting an aging cat who I am totally ambivalent about but for some reason also wanted to get in on providing me some love by pushing her wet nose onto my chest. Once asleep, I snuck down here, perhaps to work on my writing.

EaFoM2 has been going slow but it's getting organized a bit better. I still have some holes to fill and I'm getting a bit too involved in the logistics of the society/world I am creating. However, I did do a rough chapter of someone glad to stop having to live a life he was hating. That was kind of fun. I like those short bits better but I realize I need to get through the main story.

And I'm procrastinating on that so I better at least attempt something.

Later, 12.07am

Karmageddon Archives 3 AB

A recurring theme in author interviews is apparently the stereotypical question 'Where do you get your ideas?'

Although to be fair, nobody has ever asked that of me.

They might say 'What the hell are you talking about?' or 'You're fucked up.'

Anyways, I had a thought the other day that it would be good to make some notes on the topic, especially as it relates to my chapters. It's basically a behind the scenes DVD-type bonus section. I honestly believe there should be more of these in books and I wish there were more for the classics I have read.

I do know John Steinbeck wrote letters to his editor about what was going on. That would be interesting to read.


In the Chapter titled 'By Presidential Decree'. 

Genesis - I was driving to work behind a car with a strange Alberta license plate. Over here in BC, there is an annual summer migration of the Red Plates, a name given to Albertans with their distinctive white plates with red lettering. Anyways this license plate wasn't red nor a local BC plate. Curious, I creeped closer at a stoplight and saw it to be a military plate with the inscription 'Support Our Troops'. There was also a picture of a little yellow ribbon that was all the rage when ribbons manufacturers were pushing them out like dot.com startups. But, like the dot.com bubble, so too did the ribbon making bubble burst. But that is for another time. 

So I'm thinking of how loaded that 'Support Our Troops' statement is (and I've thought it for years). Support our Troops. The subtext is they are the lowest on the army chain of command anyways, right? People like you and me. Why wouldn't you support these people that have so much pride in their country they are willing to die for what it's leaders want them to do?

But logically, why don't they have a Support our Leaders slogan with it's own ribbon? Doesn't that really make more sense? Our Troops is an abstract concept with no face to it. A leader has a face, someone we can identify with. But troops are nameless, camouflage wearing death machines when it comes down to it. I know, it's very Orwellian and not very original but there's that seed... what if it was a Support Our Leaders license plate?

So all I had was this idea that the joke is a President in a country with no followers needed to do a Public Relations campaign. Something to get people's heads back on straight, to remind them what America was built on. Apathy was destroying the continent because nobody supported anyone anymore. He needed support by his countrymen.

Mind you, the set-up for this one note joke took about 6 pages I believe and as I'm writing to set up this joke I discover the President's Aides are all New Hires with little to no experience, realize very few people have any idea what's on the Oval Office ceiling, there is an official Presidential Pet Groomer, and that GWB has tagged the Oval Office during his 2nd term.

And all this because some Alberta military guy was driving in front of me on the way to work.

Karmageddon Archives 1 Group Meeting

When Your Characters Hold A Group Meeting Without You. (3/18/16)

"Okay everybody, let's sit down and figure out who's here," said Otter Larkin, the de facto leader of the assembled group of holocaust survivors and the one who probably has the most lines.

"Who is leading this meeting anyways? You?" asked Jack Steele, squinting out of his one good eye. His other one was covered by an eye patch. Although he was indirectly the reason for the nuclear holocaust he wasn't at that stage of taking responsibility for his actions.

"I think it should be me," said the one directly responsible for the holocaust, Jacques LaPlante. He had a large scar covering most of his forehead, a result of the smokestack falling on him. He also had an eye patch. The two were sitting side-by-side, yin and yang.

"Yeah, I don't think anyone is really talking to you right now," said Steele, "as far as most people know, you're still dead."

Ruby and Violet took seats behind La Plante in a show of solidarity. Violet was LaPlante's right-hand woman and childhood babysitter. Ruby was his daughter who until recently was in a casual relationship with Steele. He didn't know the relationship was casual so it came as a big surprise that immediately after Steele decided to give up being an American super-cop for the Canadian daughter of his arch-enemy, she tried to kill him. Ruby and Violet were the ones who set the Forty Plus Four in action so while it could be said LaPlante was responsible for the holocaust, it was actually Ruby and Violet who pushed the button so to speak.

Of course, nobody from the Forty Plus Four was there as they were all martyred in the nuclear blasts that lead to the giant free for all among the world's nations.

Lana Redfeather stood on a picnic table. As far as Native women went, Lana was a trailblazer and natural matriarch despite being in her mid-twenties. She carried herself with a sense of self-dignity and leadership and as such, it made her an intimidating figure in their stories.

"We need to figure out why we are all here, where we are going. I don't think the Great Storyteller has any idea. He needs our help."

"The Great Storyteller needs our help? That's ironic." This came from the French survivalist, Turgeon. Nobody knew if he had a first name which was one of the little idiosyncrasies of The Great Storyteller.

"Perhaps, but it's true. The Great Storyteller has lost the thread of our stories, I think. It's the reason why we are all here," Lana turned to the assembled others that were watching the gathering with interest. "If you aren't part of any major storyline, please go back to Wee Danpot."

"What about Bluenose City?" asked someone.

"Someone has a point," said Otter Larkin, "I don't know at which Gate I am stationed, is it Bluenose City or is it Wee Danpot?"

"All I know is that I am with Otter," said Chris Cross, who had yet to be fully fleshed out and so was just a hazy blur in the background.

"Right, and I think I am the bad guy," said Turgeon, "but I haven't done anything really bad as far as I know. I mean I killed some bad guys but that's about all."

"Yeah, he did. I saw it," said a woman with crazy in her eyes, "and with the Dickhead gone, I became leader of a horde... well, not really a horde but definitely a gang or tribe or whatever The Great Storyteller wants to call us."

"And Cross and I apparently killed a bunch of handicapped people," said Otter, not looking happy about it.

"Yes, you did," two voices said in tandem, the mother-daughter team of Sarah and Selina, although their names may have changed, "we came for help and instead you killed them all."

"Okay, that sounds troubling," said Lana, "then what happened?"

"Nothing so far," said Sarah, the mother, "I don't know what's happened to us."

"I know we are still alive," said maybe-Selina, "in fact because I'm of a good breeding age. I might have a thing for Otter, but I doubt it. I'm a witness/survivor to a multiple murder so I think I am feeling a bit too conflicted about being in love with him. No offense Otter."

Otter shrugged. It was his job as a Gate Keeper to make the tough calls on behalf of the survivors of Wee Danpot. Or Bluenose City. They didn't have any resources to care for those who couldn't care for themselves. Sarah and Selina had not realized that the crew of handicapped individuals they were caring for were already dead. It was Otter and Cross's responsibility to make it fact. The greater good.

Tristan and Turner spoke up from one side of the circle.

"I think Turner should change his name to something less ... white," said Tristan. "I mean, he's our native step-brother after all Lana. We should probably have The Great Storyteller address that."

"Yeah, I agree. I don't like the name."

"Fine, Turner, we will change your name to something more of your personality, like... David."

Turner-now David - shrugged. "Sure."

"Okay, so we have you -" she pointed at Jack Steele, "needing some resolution with the LaPlantes."

Steele and LaPlante glared at each other, eye patch to eye patch.

"Turgeon, we need to figure out how you are the bad guy. I think you and Otter should have some conflicting ideas of job performance. That sounds promising."

"What about you?" asked Turgeon. "You can't be the lead character for The Great Storyteller if you don't have your own story."

Lana nodded. "Yeah, I agree. All I know is I slept through the holocaust and have shown remarkable leadership skills in taking stock of the situation and getting a band of survivors out of town. Speaking of, where's Flint?"

Flint Freejack popped out of the crowd.

"Hey cuz," said Flint.

"What's your story?"

"Don't know. Right now I'm just being the messenger for La Plante, getting the 1% of people who haven't been affected by Karma to understand what has happened."

"Anything else?"

"Not yet, as far as I know. I believe Boogie and Uwe are also in this story somewhere but haven't seen them."

"Right. And what about those who don't care anymore? The 99% affected by Karma?" she turned to La Plante.

"Don't look at me. I guess they are still out there. Millions of them are innocent casualties of course but you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs."

"So they are all on their own?"

"Pretty much. I don't think The Great Storyteller should spend too much time on them. He needs to focus on us."

"True," mused Lana, a stoner-created nuclear holocaust is a big subject, each person would be a story in itself. Best to concentrate on this small corner of the universe. "Turgeon, what are you planning?"

"I don't know. Probably killing a lot of innocent people. I think I am working to keep Wee Danpot isolated from any re-organization with the outside world."

"Okay, that's a start. Anybody else? LaPlante?"

"I honestly don't have anything planned. I still in a bit of shock my daughter and nanny released the Forty Plus Four. And I think I have some post-concussion symptoms from when that smokestack fell on my head."

"Right," said Lana, "and if I recall, I am going to be going out into the world, try making contact with other survivors."

"And I'm going to become the new face of law enforcement," said Steele, "a lot of moral decay will be happening out there. People who have no fear of consequences, the strong preying on the weak kind of thing."

"Right, the other 1%," said Flint. "For every good, there is a bad."

"Big theme right there," said Otter, "classic storyline. Good vs. bad."

"Yeah, but is Turgeon enough to be 'bad'? I mean, it sounds like he's just trying to maintain a certain status quo, protect the town of Wee Danpot-"

"or Bluenose City," interrupted Turgeon.

"Or Bluenose City from outside influence."

"Besides there are the Dregs or whatever he decides to call them; the roaming gangs of cop-bandits."

"Yeah... I guess, but I think The Great Storyteller put them in as a bit of a wild card. I don't think The Storyteller wants to make things that black and white."

"Is there anyone we are missing?"

"Well, let's do roll call and perhaps our story line. Maybe that will help. I'll start."

Lana looked out at the assembled crowd circling the core group.

"I'm Lana Redfeather. I'm leading a band of survivors out of the town of Vernon (I think) to Wee Danpot, based on Flint's recommendation. I don't know if my step-brothers are coming with me because they were playing video games last I checked." She looked over at the two.

"We're Tristan and David, formerly Turner. We are a couple of Karma burnouts so we will probably tag along with our older sister, only because we have nothing better to do."

"I'm Otter Larkin. I have a brother named Sturgeon who hasn't appeared yet. I'm a Gate Keeper, along with Cross. I'm basically a good guy who makes the tough choices. I don't really have any story right now other than manning the gate."

"And I'm Cross, I'm his partner and also have no story line other than manning the Gate."

"I'm Turgeon, a loner survivalist who is also manning The Gate. I don't know which Gate however. I want to keep either Wee Danpot or Bluenose City pure from outside influences. So I also make the tough decisions nobody wants to make."

"Hey, everybody! Sorry I'm late. I'm Stuart? I came into Wee Danpot with Jack Steele?" 

Stuart had a bad habit of making facts into questions. "I am a Karmafarian on a pilgrimage to Wee Danpot. I made it and now have nothing to do. I'm apparently one of 274 other Stuarts that felt they needed to make a pilgrimage to Wee Danpot. I'm also Ruby's ex-fiance."

"Right. I met Stuart after coming out of the woods from my ..." here Jack Steele paused, looking over at Ruby who pointedly ignored him, "holiday." he finished. "I don't know my purpose other than to go back to Wee Danpot, find out LaPlante is alive and find out what happened."

"And I don't really know what happened," said LaPlante, "until Ruby and Violet come in and tell me they activated the Forty Plus Four. Perhaps out of a sense of loss? I don't know if that has been clearly explained yet."

"Fine, I'm next," said Ruby, standing up so everyone could see why Jack Steele chose to leave America and all he and it stood for in order to be with this woman, "I'm Ruby, I'm Jacques' daughter, an award-winning horticulturist, inventor of Karmajuana and former beauty queen."

"And I'm Violet Farmer," said the older one as Ruby sat back down, "I was Annie's nanny way back when he went by the name of Annie, and I nursed Jacques back to health."

"Okay," said Lana, "that's about it then?"

"Not so fast," said a voice from the outside. "What about me?"

"And us? The Great Storyteller has a grand story to tell about us," said a couple holding 

hands, stepping out of the ring of observers.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Cash and this is Olivia, The Great Storyteller was working on our story."

The first voice spoke up.

"Wait, The Storyteller was working on my story, I'm Detective Bennett."

"I'm part of Detective Bennett's story too. I'm Jeff Fontaine...I think. Fontaine, definitely. I don't remember my first name."

"Hell, I don't even know my name but I know I am in Bennett's story too. It's a murder mystery told in three different viewpoints."

Lana stared at the three men and the woman.

"Yeah... I don't think you are involved in this. I think you two only complicate things. Best let the Great Storyteller concentrate on one thing at a time. And right now, I think it's us."

The four drifted back like ghostly fog into the outside circle.

"Um, excuse me? We're part of your story too. I think we are Gate Keepers but haven't been given names. I'm a Gate Keeper also called The Lead and he's the Rookie," said an old man, pointing to a wide-eyed young man beside him. "In fact, we haven't been told much other than we give people a symbolic and ironic choice on where they wish to go; to the old way or the new way."

"Yeah, it's a Catch 22 of sorts for some people," said the Rookie.

"Okay, we will get to you later," said Lana. "Let's work on the main story first. And that would be me, Steele and Larkin. Our antagonists are .... me vs. the world, I guess? Steele vs LaPlante, although I don't see any more conflict there at the moment. And Otter vs Turgeon, which seems the most promising."

"Maybe Turgeon creates his own band of survivors? Tries to take over Wee Danpot?"

"I don't know," said Turgeon, "I'm more of a Lone Wolf. I don't think I would do well in a group environment."

"Okay...what about I'm assigned to try and track you down because you are destroying our attempts at rejoining the human race?"

"Closer. I'll see if I can come up with something better. I need to figure out what my end goal is."

"Hi everyone," said another Native man, also late to the party. Behind him was a band of Indians. 

"I'm Clayton Sparrow. I'm leading this group somewhere but I don't know where."

"Hey, I got an idea! How about they come to Bluenose City and I massacre them?" asked Turgeon, "that will give you the purpose of tracking me down. The stress of deciding who shall live gets to me and I snap."

"Sure," said Larkin, "but we need a precipitating moment. Some reason why you massacre this tribe."

"I'll think about it. Sorry Clayton."

"No worries, I am glad to be of some help for The Great Storyteller."

Flint raised his hand.

"There seems to be a lot of Indians involved in this story. And we still haven't mentioned Uwe and Boogie. Or the Man in the Tan Van. He should make an appearance too."

"I don't know... we have plenty of characters already." Lana waited for more voices to come out of the audience.

There were murmurs in the outer circles, but none were willing to step forward at the moment. They all knew it was soon to be time for the Great Editing. And then after that, there would be more Great Editing.

So it was meant to be...