Week 5 Update

"The universe doesn't give you what you ask for with your thoughts. It gives you what you demand with your actions." Steve Maraboli,

This week was an editing week for me and my project. So, like the field above, there is little progress to show. I did some pallet cleansing and worked on two short stories that i hope to submit later this month. The rough draft for one is completed and the second is roughed out to the final scene.

Current Word Counts:

Borrowed Time: Rough draft completed and ready for edits. 5640 new words.

Blackjack McCoy: Rough draft written to the closing scene. 4925 new words.

Trilogy Project: 19,999 words and still editing.

This week I went to the nature reserve and reflected on what it takes to accomplish goals or to get things out of life.

In my wonderings I came across these buckets at the reserve. I won’t say my curiosity got the better of me because I didn’t even pause to think about it, I just went to see what was going on. Can you guess what was going on?

You guessed it. The trees are maples and the staff at the reserve had tapped them for collecting sap to make syrup. To my uneducated surprise nothing was in the buckets except ants. Not being one to let a question go unanswered I tracked down a staff member to answer the question. It turns out that the taps need to be installed in the tree before the sap starts flowing inside the trees.

This actually answered two of my questions at once. It’s not effective to walk around and wait for sap to ooze from a tree that happens to have an opening it to collect sap. Just like sitting and waiting for all of the conditions to be right to have the accomplishment of a goal to just happen. It takes an action to make it happen. You need to tap what you have and demand the result. Granted it helps to have the skill, knowledge of when to do it, and patience to act at the right time. Still, you need to do something to make it happen. Even people who win the lottery normally had to go get the ticket. It’s okay to dream about something you want but don’t just sit there and stare at the tree of life. Grab a tap and demand it.

In the beginning of this process, I said I would occasionally put-up snippets of stories I’m working on. Below is a scene from a short story I’m working on. I’ve done no edits to it so it’s about as raw as it comes.

Scene from WIP: Range War.

The sun had nearly set on the little town of White Sage. Only the barest traces of orange lay across the horizon west of town. Nowhere near enough light to expose the stranger as he slowly walked into town.  

Main Street was already well on its way into its transformation from a moderately busy day shift. The common working families meandering between the mercantile, stables, post office, and farrier had settled into their homes for the evening. A far more localized but rowdier night shift centered around the saloon and the inn next door to it came to life.

Strangers rarely came to White Sage but still, the few people on the streets that night didn’t really give the newcomer a cursory glance. Maybe it was the fact he was clad completely in black from the wide-brim gambler’s hat that he wore tilted low over his eyes to the dust-covered leather boots just caused him to be mistaken for nothing more than a shadow gliding down the center of the street. The ragged edges of his long coat swayed with every swaggering step he took.

He came to a stop in the street in front of the saloon and placed his hands on his hips. His shielded eyes took in enough of the warm glow of the lit oil lamps hanging off hooks mounted to the posts of the portico to see where he was.

Brighter light as well as the sounds of laughter, glasses clinking, and a piano playing camp town race flowed from the doorway. Its double-swinging door shifted slightly in the breeze. A smile slid across his face as he acknowledged that the doors, when illuminated from behind, looked vaguely like a bat with its wings folded.

With the tip of his finger, he pushed the front edge of the brim of his hat up causing the hat to slide ever so slightly back on his head. The chaotic movement of the early evening’s revelers brought a tingle of excitement to him.

Taking a deep breath, he could taste the stale liquor, tobacco smoke, and salty musk of human perspiration wafting from the building. Impulsively he licked his lips.

He strode up the steps two at a time and in one fluid motion swept into the saloon. The batwing doors swung in his wake.

The cheerful din from within the saloon ceased. Silence descended as if the town itself held its breath. Then that silence was shattered by screams and the cacophony of violence.

Excerpt from the WIP: Range War by David R. Birdsall

Thank you all for sticking with me for this endeavor. I appreciate the company.

David R. Birdsall