What I did this week 5/12/17

Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies. Started week at  29,435 words. Finished week at 31,700 words.

2017 To-Do List

• Theo Thwaite One:  Theo Thwaite Had A Secret - Go over third draft in July
• Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of June
• Pocket Hole Five: Goodnight Mr. Moon - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of September
• Theo Thwaite Three: Start to write in October
• Pocket Hole Two: Boys And Other Irritants - One last review (DONE 3/3/17)
• Pocket Hole Three: What Not To Wear To A Prison Party - Go over first draft sometime in March(DONE 3/6/17)
• Theo Thwaite Two: Theo Thwaite Had A Problem - Finish first draft ((100,000 words) by mid-March (DONE 3/1/17)
• Pocket Hole One: What A Girl Wants - One last review (DONE 3/2/17)

What I did this week 5/5/17

Another weak week of writing. I spent a bunch of time working on book covers. Here is an example of one.

What I did this week 4/28/17

Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies. Started week at 26,271 words. Finished week at 29,435 words.

2017 To-Do List

• Theo Thwaite One:  Theo Thwaite Had A Secret - Go over third draft in July
• Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of June
• Pocket Hole Five: Goodnight Mr. Moon - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of September
• Theo Thwaite Three: Start to write in October
• Pocket Hole Two: Boys And Other Irritants - One last review (DONE 3/3/17)
• Pocket Hole Three: What Not To Wear To A Prison Party - Go over first draft sometime in March(DONE 3/6/17)
• Theo Thwaite Two: Theo Thwaite Had A Problem - Finish first draft ((100,000 words) by mid-March (DONE 3/1/17)
• Pocket Hole One: What A Girl Wants - One last review (DONE 3/2/17)

What I did this week 4/21/17

Sucky 2 weeks of writing
Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies. Started week at 25.695 words. Finished week at 26,271 words.

2017 To-Do List

• Theo Thwaite One:  Theo Thwaite Had A Secret - Go over third draft in July
• Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of June
• Pocket Hole Five: Goodnight Mr. Moon - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of September
• Theo Thwaite Three: Start to write in October
• Pocket Hole Two: Boys And Other Irritants - One last review (DONE 3/3/17)
• Pocket Hole Three: What Not To Wear To A Prison Party - Go over first draft sometime in March(DONE 3/6/17)
• Theo Thwaite Two: Theo Thwaite Had A Problem - Finish first draft ((100,000 words) by mid-March (DONE 3/1/17)
• Pocket Hole One: What A Girl Wants - One last review (DONE 3/2/17)

What I did this week 4/14/17

Busy week

Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies. Started week at 25,695 words. Finished week at 25,695 words.

2017 To-Do List

• Theo Thwaite One:  Theo Thwaite Had A Secret - Go over third draft in July
• Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of June
• Pocket Hole Five: Goodnight Mr. Moon - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of September
• Theo Thwaite Three: Start to write in October
• Pocket Hole Two: Boys And Other Irritants - One last review (DONE 3/3/17)
• Pocket Hole Three: What Not To Wear To A Prison Party - Go over first draft sometime in March(DONE 3/6/17)
• Theo Thwaite Two: Theo Thwaite Had A Problem - Finish first draft ((100,000 words) by mid-March (DONE 3/1/17)
• Pocket Hole One: What A Girl Wants - One last review (DONE 3/2/17)

Thursday - KRYPTON

A couple of the joss sticks burned the back of her arms and her neck where her flesh was exposed, but Oliv didn’t complain. She just fallen out of a skyscraper. There were more than a few people on the street and it appeared that all of them had watched her fall. Gunfire still rant out above. They musts have been looking up when she tried the zip-line thing. Oliv stayed where she was for a second, still not sure that she really had survived. Maybe this was what heaven was like. Maybe heaven was so freakin’ great that even when you died horribly, you immediately thought you’d survived. But when Oliv sat up her back hurt. That probably meant this wasn’t heaven. She swung her feet over the table and jumped to the sidewalk. Her audience was splitting time between looking at her and staring up at the open window, where the gun battle was raging. Oliv brushed herself off and tried to pretend her heart wasn’t still racing. These people were looking at her like maybe she came from Krypton, and she didn’t want to disappoint.

Wednesday - JOSS

Falling six stories goes by way too fast when you’re about to die. Oliv didn’t see her life flash before her eyes, just a bunch of windows. A short list of things she regretted did run through her head though. She regretted not watching more Jason Statham movies, as was already mentioned. She regretted not trying out for the diving team in high school. Maybe that could have given her some insight into falling properly. She regretted not opening the refrigerator door in the apartment and sampling some Jell-O shots before she fled to the bathroom. Strangely, she didn’t regret getting in a fight with Cecile in front of her newborn baby. Weird. That’s when Oliv landed on the fabric awning in front of the Chinese restaurant across the street, bounced up and then landed in a table full of sand with a bunch of joss sticks stuck in it.

Tuesday - JASON

Every boyfriend Oliv ever had was a fan of action flicks. So boring. A guy with muscles and karate skills who can’t be hit with bullets runs around and saves helpless females. Oliv had actually broken up with one of her boyfriends after leaving a theater. She couldn’t remember the boyfriend’s name now, but the actor in the movie had been Jason Statham. A healthy diet of action movies suddenly seemed like a vitamin supplement she should have been using. She raised the blinds, opened the window, and the cable just to the side of the window trailing down to the building across the street was the obvious choice. There was even a wooden hanger on the floor she could use. With the hangar and cable she had her own zip-line. Oliv grabbed the hangar off the floor. She leaned out the window, the gunfire in the other room growing more intense, put the hangar over the cable, grabbed the hangar on each side with her hands, and launched herself. She started screaming immediately, so when the hangar broke in two nothing really change. Other than she started falling. Oliv mentally berated herself. Whatever her old boyfriend’s name was, she shouldn’t have broken up with him. Maybe she wouldn't have missed Jason Statham’s next stupid movie, and maybe there would have been some helpful information about zip-line.

Monday - INCH

Not being the focus of the two men and one woman was a nice change. Oliv folded her hand in a thin V and slipped it out of the handcuff. She looked up to see if anyone had noticed, and she really wouldn’t have been that disappointed if one of her captors had, because, well, that had been pretty cool. All four were facing the open door though, guns held like they knew how to use them. Oliv stood. There was the front door, which wasn’t an option, and a door to her right, probably a bathroom. She sidestepped, keeping her eyes on the people packing guns, edging towards the bathroom. On her way, she passed the kitchen counter and noticed a piece of paper with writing on it. It looked like a list. Oliv shoved the paper into her pocket then inched into the bathroom. She closed the door, locked it, and considered her options. There was a full window with cheap plastic blinds. She peaked through the blinds and found she was seven or eight floors above ground. Oliv turned and looked back at the closed bathroom door. She didn’t make up her mind until she heard gunfire. The window it was.

What I did this week 4/7/17

Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies. Started week at 21.155 words. Finished week at 25,695 words.

2017 To-Do List

• Theo Thwaite One:  Theo Thwaite Had A Secret - Go over third draft in July
• Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of June
• Pocket Hole Five: Goodnight Mr. Moon - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of September
• Theo Thwaite Three: Start to write in October
• Pocket Hole Two: Boys And Other Irritants - One last review (DONE 3/3/17)
• Pocket Hole Three: What Not To Wear To A Prison Party - Go over first draft sometime in March(DONE 3/6/17)
• Theo Thwaite Two: Theo Thwaite Had A Problem - Finish first draft ((100,000 words) by mid-March (DONE 3/1/17)
• Pocket Hole One: What A Girl Wants - One last review (DONE 3/2/17)

Thursday - HUNTER

The right moment approached with heavy footsteps and a lot of huffing and puffing. Oliv heard someone approaching from outside the door, running up a hall that was anything but abbreviated. They must be in a pretty big building. The punchline came when a girth-challenged man burst through the door. He had short, red hair and was wearing a hunter green sweatshirt. Olive would have been shocked if the tag on the sweatshirt collar had less than four Xs on it. The portly fellow blurted out one, simple statement that caused immediate chaos, though Oliv didn’t understand its import. “The Buckeyes have found us!” All three of Oliv’s captives jumped to their feet and ran to different parts of the room. It wasn’t a panic. They seemed to be about specific tasks, like this was an emergency they were ready for because of countless drills. They returned after having retrieved automatic weapons, one of them with an extra, which he gave to the fat man. Oliv decided that now was a good time to make her break.

Wednesday - GRAZE

Oliv didn’t like Jell-O shots. She had nothing against drinking, but adding alcohol to Jell-O was a bastardization of an intrinsically innocent substance. She would have no part in that. She already disliked her captors because, well, they’d kidnapped her, but this gave her a second reason. Well, a third reason, really. Her beloved Miata had been more than grazed. Oliv wished she could ask questions now that she had calmed down, but the duct tape was holding. And the idiots just stared at her. They were waiting for something, obviously. Or someone. Oliv decided she wasn’t going to wait. Both her hands were double-jointed and she was pretty sure she could slip out of these handcuffs. She just needed to wait for the right moment.

Tuesday - FLAVOR

So it was the taste of tape that calmed Oliv’s mind, despite whatever caffeine buzz she was riding. There were a limited number of things she could know at that moment, but Oliv listed them off in her mind nevertheless. She had been forced off the road by a black car, a big one. This had happened in a residential neighborhood, a sleepy one, so even if no one had seen the crash, her crumpled car would not go unnoticed. Oliv was in a single-room apartment with three middle-aged people, none of whom had any fashion sense. There was an open window to her right, but all she could see was sky, so whatever apartment she was in, it wasn’t on the ground floor. She had been kidnapped and was handcuffed, but it didn’t appear her captors wanted to harm her. Not yet, at least. The last thing on Oliv’s list, strangely, was that in the kitchenette on her left there were a pile of empty Jell-O boxes, all different flavors, and she could smell the distinct odor of Jell-O shots with rum made and chilling in the refrigerator.

Monday - EVASIVE

Oliv’s upper lip was smushed to the side and folded back so that the duct tape stuck to her teeth. The semi-violence of the moment seemed to mix with the odd taste of the adhesive and in a strange twist brought her calm. The bitter tang seemed familiar, but the memory was evasive until the woman returned to her place on the couch. Oliv noticed the woman was wearing knee-high, flesh-colored panty hose, the kind her grandmother used to wear. Some of Oliv's earliest memories were of wrapping Christmas presents with Grandma Stella. Her grandmother’s wrapping style had included pulling off multiple strips of tape, sticking them to her bottom lip, then wrapping the whole present without having to return to the tape dispenser. Grandma Stella had been a wizard at wrapping.

What I did this week 3/31/17

Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies. Started week at 14,612 words. Finished week at 21,155 words.

2017 To-Do List

• Theo Thwaite One:  Theo Thwaite Had A Secret - Go over third draft in July
• Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of June
• Pocket Hole Five: Goodnight Mr. Moon - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of September
• Theo Thwaite Three: Start to write in October
• Pocket Hole Two: Boys And Other Irritants - One last review (DONE 3/3/17)
• Pocket Hole Three: What Not To Wear To A Prison Party - Go over first draft sometime in March(DONE 3/6/17)
• Theo Thwaite Two: Theo Thwaite Had A Problem - Finish first draft ((100,000 words) by mid-March (DONE 3/1/17)
• Pocket Hole One: What A Girl Wants - One last review (DONE 3/2/17)

Thursday - DAMMIT

But Oliv was handcuffed to an itchy chair and she didn’t have a piece of paper or a pencil to write a phrase and then end it with a colon. So she just said the four-letter words that came to mind. This had an immediate effect on her captors, who either weren’t used to hearing four-letter words or weren’t impressed with her street poetry. Maybe they all thought they could do better, but none of them said anything. The woman got up, went to the kitchen, and a moment later came back with a roll of duct tape. Where her expression had been blank a moment ago, she seemed very disapproving now. Oliv twisted her head so the woman couldn’t put the tape over her mouth, all the while slinging four-letter words like flapjacks (she hadn’t repeated herself yet), but then one of the men got up and helped. Oliv’s tirade ended.  Well . . . dammit.

Wednesday - COLON

A colon is used to introduce an item or a series of items. In this case, Oliv could have written the phrase words to say when you wake up with a headache and you are handcuffed to an itchy chair. This phrase would then have a colon at the end of it, and then she could have listed a number of four-letter words. Merry would not have been one of those words following the colon, and not just because it had more than four letters.

Tuesday - BACKSTAGE

Having a backstage pass to a band that really sucks is nothing to brag about. That’s what Oliv thought when she surfaced from unconsciousness. When she opened her eyes, she found she was in a room, comfortably furnished with retro-looking 50s-style furniture – a teal, formica table in one corner, a television cabinet that looked like it might also have a turntable, a matching sofa and chair made of some kind of fuzzy, itchy material. She was sitting on the chair. There were two men and a woman on the couch across from her, watching her. Oliv felt woozy. She reached up and felt her head and found that it was wrapped in a bandage. The three people on the couch had a retro look themselves. Not 50s per se, but they had only advanced a couple decades, maybe to the 70s. All three stared at Oliv with blank, uncaring eyes. Oliv changed her mind about the furniture. It wasn’t 50s-style. It was just plain 50s. Maybe she had slipped back in time.

Monday - ACCUSTOMED

Count your blessings. Enough is a feast. These are more than just platitudes. If a recognition of the good that comes with life resided in the breast of every human, anger and fear would be rare.  But it is more common to receive and then hold out a hand for more, to grow accustomed to that which is not ours by right. When Oliv pulled out of the McDonald’s, Diet Coke and hamburger in hand, she did not notice the black Suburban that followed her. She was hungry and wanted to eat the burger as she drove, so she didn’t take the freeway. She wove through quiet neighborhoods, and in one particularly quiet neighborhood, the black Suburban stopped following altogether. Oliv took a bite of her burger, saw a black blur out of her side window, and then there was a jolt, and then a crash, and then she knew no more.

What I did this week 3/24/17

Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies. Started week at 11,133 words. Finished week at 14,612.

2017 To-Do List

• Theo Thwaite One:  Theo Thwaite Had A Secret - Go over third draft in July
• Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of June
• Pocket Hole Five: Goodnight Mr. Moon - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of September
• Theo Thwaite Three: Start to write in October
• Pocket Hole Two: Boys And Other Irritants - One last review (DONE 3/3/17)
• Pocket Hole Three: What Not To Wear To A Prison Party - Go over first draft sometime in March(DONE 3/6/17)
• Theo Thwaite Two: Theo Thwaite Had A Problem - Finish first draft ((100,000 words) by mid-March (DONE 3/1/17)
• Pocket Hole One: What A Girl Wants - One last review (DONE 3/2/17)

Thursday - GIRDLER

From time-to-time the writer of Oliv Everything came across a word he just had to use, even if it didn’t work within the context of the story. Girdler was one of those words. If you're thinking long-forgotten-Batman-villain, you would be wrong. A girdler is one who makes girdles. Oliv wasn’t a girdler, nor did she know anyone who girdled, so this truly was a pointless aside, but perhaps this brief treatise on girlders was for her a momentary diversion, a last bit of amusement to sustain her through what was coming. Oliv was about to step in some of the guano metaphor from the previous day.

Wednesday - GUANO

But that was the thing about guavas. Instead of eating them, some people made juice, and everyone knows that old saying about guava. Oliv couldn't remember exactly how it went, something like when life gives you guava make sure you don't accidentally make guano. She wasn't sure of the etymology. Didn't make sense to begin with. Did the guano come out of the guava or did it, you know, excrete from some other place because you were squeezing so hard?

Tuesday - GUAVA

The Miata being towed was life pitching low and away. And, not surprisingly, it was the Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese that ended up tickling Oliv's fancy. It seemed like a mistake when she ordered, but while she waited for the car in front of her to move up, Oliv Googled the calories and found an acceptable number of 770. Sure, that seemed like a lot for just one sandwich, but if that’s all she ate today it would really be more like she was on a diet. If she got desperate tonight, Carlos, the South American man across the hall from her, had given her a whole box of guava the other day, and one guava has only 38 calories. She could eat ten of those babies and still be good.

Monday - GUSTATORY

In the game of baseball – not that Oliv was a baseball fan, or even a golf fan (as we have established earlier) – but in baseball, a good pitcher will throw certain pitches outside the plate, teasing  a batter, making him (or her, to avoid being sexist) think the next pitch will pass over a certain spot and thus get them to swing at a bad ball. Good pitchers learn this from observing life. Rene dropped Oliv off in front of her Miata, which had not been towed. This meant Oliv had her car and she was half a block away from a McDonald’s Diet Coke and maybe a Fruit ‘n Yogurt Parfait to satisfy her gustatory cravings. Or a Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese. Whichever tickled her fancy.

What I did this week 3/17/17

Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies. Started week at 7,288 words. Finished week at 11,133.

2017 To-Do List

• Theo Thwaite One:  Theo Thwaite Had A Secret - Go over third draft in July
• Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of June
• Pocket Hole Five: Goodnight Mr. Moon - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of September
• Theo Thwaite Three: Start to write in October
• Pocket Hole Two: Boys And Other Irritants - One last review (DONE 3/3/17)
• Pocket Hole Three: What Not To Wear To A Prison Party - Go over first draft sometime in March(DONE 3/6/17)
• Theo Thwaite Two: Theo Thwaite Had A Problem - Finish first draft ((100,000 words) by mid-March (DONE 3/1/17)
• Pocket Hole One: What A Gril Wants - One last review (DONE 3/2/17)

Thursday - CONSOLE

The flirty policeman had not returned Oliv’s rubber band. When she'd asked about it, the guy and his nystagmus gave her a funny look. The arresting officer told her to hurry because there was every chance her car had not been towed yet. If she could get to it soon she might not have to pay to get it out of the yard. Oliv called her friend Renee, and Renee agreed to pick her up, but she told her she would not be offering Oliv a shoulder to cry on. Cecile had posted the whole confrontation to Facebook, a splice of footage taken from a monitor in the ugly baby’s room and a camera in the front room hidden in a console. The video was going viral and people were up in arms.

(see how I could have used console with Renee and the shoulder to cry on, but instead I went to TV console. A little writing trickery, using second level definition. Amazing, huh? Besides, Renee really isn't all that nice.)

Wednesday - ZITI

It was now mid-afternoon and Oliv was hungry. She’d basically had a Diet Coke for breakfast. When the cop was escorting her through the police station, they had passed through a small cafeteria. Well, cafeteria in a police station, so, enough description there, but she had seen a trough of ziti behind one of the windows. It even looked edible. Better than the two-day-old leftover burrito in the fridge awaiting Oliv when she got home. The cop hadn't let her stop to make an order though.

Tuesday - NYSTAGMUS

Two hours in a jail cell had never seemed like it could be a consequence tethered to Diet Coke addiction. Oliv couldn’t even twang her rubber band because they had taken it away from her when they checked her in. After a couple hours, the same cop who arrested her came to the jail cell and called her name. He led her through the jail facility to the front, and a man behind a window checked her out. The guy checking her out was an older gentleman, a little on edge, it seemed, nervous, and he even seemed to wink at her once. When she gave him a funny look, he told her hadn’t been flirting. It was an eye condition, an involuntary spasmodic motion of the eyeball called a nystagmus. Oliv took his word for it, but when she got her things and exited the police station, she found he had slipped a piece of paper in her purse with his number on it.

Monday - INSOUCIANT

Oliv had never read a book, or an article, or a blog post on how to compose yourself when sitting on a toilet in a public area. Maybe she  just needed to expand her reading list. Oliv chose to go for insouciant, but instead of seeming cheerfully nonchalant, her expression apparently communicated more of a come-hither attitude. She got a couple of phone numbers and Facebook friend request.

What I did this week - 3/10/17

Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies. Started week at 0 words. Finished week at 7,288.

2017 To-Do List

• Pocket Hole Three: What Not To Wear To A Prison Party - Go over first draft sometime in March (DONE 3/6/17)
• Theo Thwaite One: Theo Thwaite Had A Secret - Go over third draft in July
• Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of June
• Pocket Hole Five: Goodnight Mr. Moon - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of September
• Theo Thwaite Three: Start to write in October
• Pocket Hole Two: Boys And Other Irritants - One last review (DONE 3/3/17)
• Theo Thwaite Two: Theo Thwaite Had A Problem - Finish first draft ((100,000 words) by mid-March (DONE 3/1/17)
• Pocket Hole One: What A Gril Wants - One last review (DONE 3/2/17)

Thursday - BLADDER

Oliv didn’t really think of her car as a vehicle. She didn’t think of any cars as vehicles. Who called them vehicles? Well, who besides the cop? When Oliv was out of the car, the cop climbed in the driver’s seat then leaned over and looked on the passenger side. He asked her what the powder was spilled on the seat. It took Oliv a second, but then she really started laughing. Strike two. It was Jell-O, of course, but the cop was thinking “drug bust.” She watched as he actually stuck his pinky finger in the Jell-O like they do in the movies then tentatively touched it to his tongue. He was tasting pineapple flavor, if Oliv remembered correctly. That’s what really did it for Oliv. And that’s how she ended up in a jail cell with seventeen other women. Strike three. This explains how Oliv was able to put a check on her Bucket List by taking her first public pee. Her morning Diet Coke had to go somewhere.

Wednesday - ACROSPIRE

Some people might not know that acrospire is the term for the initial sprout that comes out of a germinating seed. It’s certainly not a crime to be unaware of this, but it would help understanding the following simile. The laugh that got Oliv arrested started small and insignificant, like an acrospire. The cop ambled up to Oliv’s Miata, and the fact that he needed to lean over so far to see her seemed like strike one. It was still early in the year so Oliv had the hardtop on. Driving a Miata is a little like gliding over asphalt, your butt just a couple inches from road rash. The cop almost had to lie down to converse with her. Oliv couldn’t tell at first what the cop was looking at because of his mirrored glasses. When he asked her to step out of the vehicle she started giggling.

Tuesday - TWANG

It was fat lady. Oliv found that out a few minutes later. An ugly baby singing had nothing to do with the show being over. Oliv hopped in her mint condition, 1995 Mazda Miata and sped out of the neighborhood, which apparently raised the suspicion - or at least the ire - of a policeman. Flashing lights are really only good at dance parties. Oliv could feel a tension headache forming. She needed another Diet Coke, and it didn’t help that when her car rolled to a stop she was only half a block away from a McDonald’s. The golden arches were visible but completely out of reach. She really needed that Diet Coke. Oliv lifted her arm and looked at the rubber band on her wrist. Twang.

Monday - SANG

If you’re the kind of person who reads tea leaves, you know there are days you should just flee to your bedroom and refuse to come out until the sun circles. Oliv figured she was okay though. The show was over, right? The ugly baby sang. Wasn’t that what it was, the ugly baby singing? Or was it fat lady? She wasn’t sure.

What I did this week 3/3/17

Theo Thwaite Had A Problem - Began week at 79,100 words. Ended week at 85,646 words. Book is finished(3/1/17)! I intended it to be 100,000 words but I came to a natural stopping point. Anymore would have been forced. Next book to work on is Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies.

Whenever I finish a book I like to post my "Book is Finished" poem. So, here it is:

   This book will end
   meager collection of metaphor, simile
   story arcs that rose and fell
   shifted setting and by degrees
   faded in strength.

   Silent, without voice
   yet full of words, the riddle,
   formed in thinking womb of months or years
   then birthed to impartial scrutiny,
   release now
   fresh to the hands of strangers

   derivative, yet you will shine for some,
   fitting first for sequels spun in inkjet loins.
   Newborn, bear my name.

   Tomorrow I'll place pen on paper to,
   parent skills awanting,
   fashion another.

2017 To-Do List
Theo Thwaite Two: Theo Thwaite Had A Problem - Finish first draft ((100,000 words) by mid-March (DONE 3/1/17)
Pocket Hole One: What A Gril Wants - One last review DONE 3/2/17)
Pocket Hole Two: Boys And Other Irritants - One last review
Pocket Hole Three: What Not To Wear To A Prison Party - Go over first draft sometime in June
Theo Thwaite One:  Theo Thwaite Had A Secret - Go over third draft in July
Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of June
Pocket Hole Five: Goodnight Mr. Moon - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of September
Theo Thwaite Three: Start to write in October

Thursday - OPTIONAL

Thank goodness for caffeine-induced energy. Nine times out of ten Cecile would have come out on top in a fight. She was bigger and stronger. You would think nine months of carrying an extra thirty pounds would be great for strength training, but Oliv won the fight rather easily. She left Cecile’s condo to a chorus of screaming. Cecile even threw Oliv's half-opened baby gift after her, clearly indicating she hadn’t needed the giraffe chew toy. With how tight Oliv’s budget was, she wished she'd known bringing presents was optional.

Wednesday - HEADLOCK

Maybe it was because she had been caught in a lie the night before that Oliv’s attempt to fawn over Cecile’s ugly baby failed. Her performance was not convincing, and she knew this even as she recited a litany of the required words such as precious and coochy coo. The shouting match began while Oliv was still holding the baby and continued after Oliv set her or him down. Oliv had asked the baby’s name, hoping that would firmly establish the sex, but the supplied name of Jordan didn’t help. Cecile accused Oliv of thinking her baby was ugly, and instead of telling the truth, Oliv panicked and said she was acting funny because she was sick. This didn’t help because then Cecile yelled at Oliv for even visiting. The heated exchange deteriorated to a pushing contest, which ended when Oliv got Cecile in a headlock. Jordan the ugly baby started crying and Oliv let Cecile go.

Tuesday - ADVISORY

Oliv knew the drill though. When holding a friend’s newborn, you pretended the baby was beautiful. Just like when you took a ferry out to Nantucket, you avoided any kind of limerick creation. The government didn’t create advisories for such situations, but if you were halfway intelligent you didn’t need one. It would be nice, though, if Google one day created a service as part of their maps feature. Just a marker, maybe, something that said things like “ugly baby lives here,” or “reciting limericks in this town can result in death.”

Monday - USHER

There once was a man from Nantucket . . . this was more than just the beginning of a host of dirty limericks Oliv had thought up in her life. It was a mantra. Just the first line. She had never been to Nantucket, it wasn’t likely she ever would, but the mere fact that a town could be so libeled, so marred simply because of an unfortunate rhyme scheme, this seemed an apt parallel to the human condition. Take her friend Cecile’s ugly baby, for instance. That morning when Oliv was ushered  into the baby’s room, her first thought was that the baby really wasn’t that ugly. Her initial impression had been influenced by posted pictures with poor lighting. Oliv, however, had it set in her mind that the baby was ugly, and so even though her second impression was – “huh, not that ugly” – this only lasted a second, and then she began picking out irregularities in the baby’s appearance. Before Olive knew it, the baby was ugly again. Life was unfair. A name like Nantucket or a handful of poorly lit first pictures. Of such, sometimes, are unalterable courses set.

What I did this week 2/24/17

Things to do in 2017

• Pocket Hole One: What A Girl Wants - One last review
• Pocket Hole Two: Boys And Other Irritants - One last review
• Pocket Hole Three: What Not To Wear To A Prison Party - Go over first draft sometime in June
• Theo Thwaite Had A Secret - Go over third draft sometime in July
• Theo Thwaite Had A Problem - Finish first draft (100,000 words) by mid-March
• Pocket Hole Four: Polka Dies - Write first draft (50,000 words) by the end of June
• Pocket Hole Five: Goodnight Mr. Moon - Write first draft (50,000 words) by end of September
• Theo Thwaite #3 - Start next Theo Thwaite book in October

Theo Thwaite Had A Problem - Began week at 72,199 words. Ended week at 79,100.

Thursday - UGLIFY

Once she had her Diet Coke in hand, Oliv planned on visiting her friend Cecile who had just given birth to a boy or a girl. Oliv wasn't sure. Babies, especially newborns, had such a unisex quality for Oliv that she struggled even when the mothers dressed them in pink or blue. Oliv had to remind herself she wasn’t bitter about Cecile's run of good luck, converse to the version of luck Oliv currently weathered. So what if Cecile’s husband was recently out of medical school and had taken over his father’s practice? Wasn't that great? Both Oliv and Cecile were born of humble stock, but nowadays every conversation with Cecile was choked with words like country club, Lexus, and Jimmy Choo. It was irritating. Fortunately, life had a way of throwing curves at people fresh from a lottery win. Oliv had only seen pictures on social media, but Cecile's newborn was what some might call an ugly baby. The poor thing had been uglifying a whole swath of Facebook for two weeks now. Oliv didn’t feel bad thinking this because uglify was an actual word. Look it up. The car in front of Oliv moved and she pulled forward to the speaker. A voice blared something at her, unintelligible words, but Oliv didn’t need to understand them. She ordered her Diet Coke and only then started digging around in her ashtray for the required change. Just another day. She flicked her wristband and smiled.