tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20212545124799999902012-01-19T00:50:57.555-08:00<br><br><br><br><br>A blog to follow the creation of <em>Lucky Dog</em>, my first novel, from outline through research, writing, editing, negotiations, and publishing.      <a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;add=http://webserial.blogspot.com"><img src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" alt="Add to Technorati Favorites"></a>Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.comBlogger1281100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-35169647967640858232012-01-19T00:48:00.001-08:002012-01-19T00:50:57.595-08:00

Friday: market day at Conzatti. Woven shopping bags pink and orange and blue and green. Summer in Oaxaca City. Ten minutes to get from the hill streets of San Felipe, past Avenida Niños Heroes, to the zocalo. Porfirio Diaz was a southbound street, one magnetic rail flush with the ancient green cantera flagstones. Braking energy collected downhill was saved for the uphill climb on the other end of

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-12738960891059529212012-01-19T00:34:00.000-08:002012-01-19T00:38:38.154-08:00

Shaved. The way he liked his ice. Flavored with coconut. It wouldn't be long now until dawn. He had been afraid and had found a triangle of wood to wedge under his door before the night went black. The sun would come up any moment now. He had been able to keep his back against the inside wall of his room all night. But now, the door was open and he rested his hands on the top of the rough

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-29848760161036511072011-03-03T23:31:00.000-08:002011-04-11T10:54:54.094-07:00

A boy a boy a boy on boy in the midst of puddle scum and poverty the dear one a son a son the sun the one they cried when he arrived a son a boy a boy his father held him high days later wanted to shriek to scream A BOY! Though a girl would have been super but a boy like me he thought could find happiness I didn’t find and I could show him could guide him past my mistakes he thought that the

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-11121791280120929312011-03-03T22:54:00.000-08:002011-03-03T23:10:22.662-08:00

Sorry is never sorry enough.The dog's eyes rose to meet the drooping sunset. In his bed of pine needles, his sleeping maid, wet with laying, stretched flanks pulling the skin taut across her ribs. His strong mastiff head dipped to smell her ass. His evening's work—what is the word for the work of a god? His evening's miracles awaited him. The dog arched his cream-colored back and bowed to the

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-71404939050278478692011-01-23T03:29:00.000-08:002011-01-23T03:33:25.162-08:00

Thinking through things tonight. Almost 4 now. I started looking at one char at a time. The story from one char's strain. A section should belong to one character. It will keep things sane. I can walk through the idea now and see what is missing. What logic is invisible. What steps are out of order. And when a gap in time is just as good as a new hunk of narration.

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-41189667302942412492011-01-20T22:12:00.000-08:002011-01-20T22:26:16.623-08:00

I recently made two photo books based on old poetry and new photos. Download the PDFs here by clicking the images to the left if you want to see them in their entirety.

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-32076060736457478472011-01-20T21:31:00.000-08:002011-01-20T22:08:23.722-08:00

The thing is huge. So large. I can't keep it all in my head at once. I can barely keep one thread straight. Perhaps I should consider how to write one thread at a time? It's different to keep and channel all the voices at any time.Here's the thing--do I need all these voices? This is the cloud preventing me from moving ahead. The voices. I like the idea of having the narr generated by the

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-71417299661847941392010-12-22T21:57:00.001-08:002010-12-22T22:39:06.025-08:00

Things are moving a bit faster since finding Scrivener. I'm completely up to date in translating the old Word outline into the app, and it's clear that the old outline was part of my problem. I had made many notes about how to change the path of certain chars, like the Spook, but had not reconciled the outline. And there it sat in front of me night after night. After night. After night. Now that

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-71764311686427387562010-12-20T02:19:00.000-08:002010-12-20T02:21:23.103-08:00

“Testing is inventing, without it, there is nothing.”PAs painted camo had been bolted to the underside of the hull of the helicopter. Braced against the runners. Inside, the equipment hung in netsacks. No one seemed that interested. Everyone was pretending they’d seen this before. No one had seen this before. He knew that. Why was it green to seem curious?“In the brief it says you’re some kinda

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-52104908282236922512010-12-20T01:41:00.000-08:002010-12-20T02:02:13.393-08:00

I brought Muriel and Leland to St Helena to study the landscapes of Lakes Hennessey and Berryessa. The whole weekend we were deluged with rains coming from the Pacific and covering the entire state. On Lake Berryessa we were caught in what should have been called a squall. Sudden, gusty, and very very wet. We captured hundreds of photos, some audio of birds and rain, and a few drawings. In the

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-22530639619079109062010-11-25T12:57:00.000-08:002010-11-25T13:20:10.104-08:00

I was on a trip to Delhi, INDIA recently and made a side trip by train to Mumbai. I wanted to restart Lucky Dog and my writing efforts on the time off during the Diwali Festival. I ended up with about 20 pages over the 3 days I spent on the train and in a hotel in Mumbai's Churchgate area. Given that I spent most of my time walking, buying two kashmiri rugs, eating street food, dreaming about my

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-21215588254219227292010-10-23T17:27:00.000-07:002010-10-23T17:30:51.802-07:00

The chalk gash in the hill was grey around its edges. A cloud of white powder spread into the air as a crane dropped its load. A yellow dump truck with its wipers on emerged from the cloud. The next thin road might be the right one. It cut straight across the highway and pointed to the gap in the distant hills. At the intersection of the roads, there were two close-set telephone poles only three

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-77859313358429927542010-09-15T02:30:00.000-07:002010-09-16T15:34:16.395-07:00

The man's raw power surged in the boy. Three steps to cross the ravine.A boy-sized canister of argon gas corkscrewed through the air. Its broken nozzle spinning off behind it. The noise, ragged and too loud. He watched it penetrate the plaster to the outdoors. Through the window beside the hole in the wall: a falling man. Half of his chest bitten away by the canister, yet the canister's attitude

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-81898156570000395692010-08-04T01:57:00.000-07:002010-09-15T02:03:49.663-07:00

Rain gathered in the clouds over the exposed guts of the hills on the edge of San Cristobal. Why had he waited this long? Cold air displaced the lazy hot air of the plaza. It was as if he had walked into shadow, but the sun shone. Heavy black clouds passed slowly under mile high cumulus.It looked as if a giant had dripped two drops of concentrated acid on the hill facing the city and they had

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-39261793259067667572010-06-28T01:42:00.000-07:002010-09-15T01:56:50.002-07:00

I am out of my head. Separated from wife, new job, studio, apartment. Have not been able to write one word since it all began. And now, one night, I sneak back to Caffe Med.I have been reading Kingdom of This World by Alejo Carpentier. It has reinspired me. Short. So short. Dense. Lists. And still eerie as all Hell. I thought if I could write Lucky Dog in 230pp then I could write Lucky Dog. If I

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-727128165992884232010-01-22T23:54:00.000-08:002010-01-23T00:09:55.596-08:00

Rain gathered in the clouds over the exposed guts of the hills on the edge of San Cristobal. Why had he waited this long? Cold air displaced the lazy hot air of the plaza. It was as if he had walked into shadow, but the sun shone. Heavy black clouds passed slowly under mile high cumulus.It looked as if a giant had dripped two drops of concentrated acid on the hill facing the city and they had

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-63914102279635870492010-01-09T23:03:00.000-08:002010-01-09T23:36:22.497-08:00

Route to writing. Passed Cheeseboard. Woman waiting at flowerstand and bank on a crate. 845a. Cold. I know I don't have anything but bills and I don't want to give bills. I look for her eyes. I smile and say good AM.At first I think she says, "Free Spirit" I don't know why. The anomaly makes me laugh at myself. And then I correct myself, putting the words back into her mouth and remembering the

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-64782433464890202002009-12-08T23:21:00.001-08:002009-12-08T23:55:36.836-08:00

El Escogido is the connection between El Patroncito and the boy.The Chosen One.Chosen for what, by what process? For how long? Since when?ArcsHacienda La Fuente | El Patroncito, golem, la fuente, la muchacha india/bisabueloIce Cream Truck | LSPADeath Ray/Panama | Spook, Panama boySan Cristobal | Adara's father, project, golemBoy's father | boyPanama boy | El CliqueroChamula | Talking Cross,

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-86338625618877744292009-12-08T11:47:00.000-08:002009-12-08T12:17:54.640-08:00

Studied the Lucky Dog outline this morning/pm. Drew out the connecting elements and MSGs pointing to the critical pieces. I found a small number of problems.1) Second appearance of the golem has no motivation yet. The flow is interrupted with doubt. Wonder. Determine progress of G.2) How do MSGs work? {write one and find out!}3) Boy's father and connection to LSPA in DF. Lots TBD.4) Lead up to

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-65117500479734313482009-12-08T00:00:00.001-08:002009-12-08T00:12:01.114-08:00

The need to look for work has placed this project in chains. I've stopped going to cafes--where I write. I have stopped reading, or feel like I have. I've stopped writing.I need to pull out of the Lucky Dog tailspin. Half hour per day? When? At night. 7 days--is it reasonable or bound for disaster? 5 days. That's possible. If I need to take an evening already planned, I'll know I need to make it

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-59284045349175117172009-10-06T23:08:00.000-07:002009-10-06T23:21:10.302-07:00

“I walked to the end of the street where it turns and came back. Right away. I didn’t want to get in trouble. I reached the end of the street, the church bell sounded, and I took it as a sign to come back and take it like a man.”“I came back three times.” When he was five the boy had been on a white sand beach in Mexico with his parents, both parents. It had been a hot day. He remembered seeing a

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-73868659280886928782009-09-29T13:24:00.000-07:002009-09-29T13:29:08.766-07:00

They brought the dirty American to see El Patroncito at dusk when he woke. He was a fuckup. They had scraped him up from under a park bench near El Castillo in el Bosque Chapultepec, Mexico City’s Central Park. They had cleaned him, of course. El Patroncito had a sensitive nose. They had cleaned him with his clothes on and thereby cleaned his clothes, at the same time. There was no way to know

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-71931063364001855672009-09-14T09:48:00.000-07:002009-09-14T09:58:03.778-07:00

“He was just walking,” said Cocodrillo as he guided the boy from the narrow colectivo van to the wooden doorframe where Adara was waiting. He patted the him into her waiting hands, making sure she had a good hold on him before he winked and jogged back to the van he’d left running.“Your student doesn’t seem to like his school much.”She was relieved to see him again. The little shit. She had been

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-55478930346411011422009-07-30T15:54:00.000-07:002009-09-14T10:01:20.408-07:00

The song was no song but it had been a song at one time. Nothing I had heard on the TV or on the radio or at my grandmother’s house. But it was music. It had been music once. I didn’t know many song names at that time. Only the funny ones or the ones that had their first line in the title. The song made me ache with something. I was too young to remember when the song had been a song. When the

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-64957464282623772962009-07-12T23:49:00.000-07:002009-07-13T00:01:17.614-07:00

A friend of mine who does a great deal of yoga mentioned the goddess Kali to me today. I'm pitifully ignorant of Hindu anything and so it caught me pleasantly by surprise. There is actually something out there that symbolizes a great portion of my narrative imagery. After an hour's reading I realized that in a screenplay I once turned the land of a future version of the United States into a Kali

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-35890810027293813312009-07-12T23:36:00.000-07:002009-07-12T23:49:14.891-07:00

Ice Cream Truck introThe boy alone in San CristoBoy sees the Golem"Trade La Fuente for some names."Cocodrillo takes the boy home.Adara tells the boy the Legend of the GolemAdara's father knew the boy's father.El Patroncito talks with LSPA: establish relationship and goal.El Patroncito's purpose. Original statement.Make up numbers yourself.Operation Just 'Cause: The Invasion of Panamaa la feria

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-16933733920744740292009-06-23T23:22:00.001-07:002009-06-23T23:57:21.840-07:00

The spring and summer have been crazy. Much of my time has been taken up with daily filler. Now my family--all of them--is away at camp for the next four weeks. I get to balance out searching for a job with jump-starting the book project. Even driving home from dropping the kids at camp, I was worried about dividing the time. But now I know that it's possible. Had a good, yet tired, day working

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-63410135530539985502009-05-31T00:58:00.000-07:002009-06-01T12:58:24.621-07:00

SECTION ONE - El NiñoThe boy’s past and fate. The boy’s relationship to El Patroncito. He is curious (more so than in previous text)Dogs in Chamula. Cocodrillo, the colectivo driver.The boy’s relationship to La Fuente. La Fuente’s home.The Anglo and his Pill.The ruins of Hacienda La Fuente and a baobab stump. The job of the Anglo: broadcasting random numbers via low power transmitter. La Fuente

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-1387968479759549002009-05-31T00:14:00.000-07:002009-06-01T12:57:43.360-07:00

"Listening to you I get the music.Gazing at you I get the heat.Following you I climb the mountain.I get excitement at your feet.Right behind you I see the millions.On you I see the glory.From you I get opinions.From you I get the story."Cranked up The Who so loud on Friday that I had to turn down the subwoofer. It's funny when you stumble on a song that has been around for a long time and it hits

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-18199386531362943622009-05-31T00:01:00.000-07:002009-05-31T00:10:32.065-07:00

Time passes swiftly. Basketball with David Schweidel on Wednesday.We shot around in the defunct Hillside School playground in the Berkeley Hills. Court is uneven, tree limbs overshadow one rim; it's post-apocalyptic. I wasn't sure what I wanted to get out of the session. I think, mostly to shoot with David. I got a bit of feedback on the materials I sent him a week or so ago. But mostly we shot.

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-82795061834081101242009-05-04T20:34:00.000-07:002009-05-04T20:40:54.152-07:00

I'm way behind in transcribing my notes. I have over a month's worth of notes to transcribe. But should I? The last critique gave me some things to chew on. Now I am working on an overall outline, no, a summary that walks the reader through all four parts. I need this to get started on my summer's workshop.

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-46289385689076048412009-04-02T23:11:00.000-07:002009-04-18T01:22:18.468-07:00

Notes from the Apr 2 crit.Style fascinates. Distance from El Patroncito, the boy raise subtext questions, emotional distance.Cinematic, visual.Disequilibrium. Settings and points in time.Great details: white leather car seats, Mexican juicy fruit, hup hup, hup, smell of the old man.Bedroom, books, electricity.Bedroom prose description is sharp (DS).Juxtaposition: boy knows the dark. He had

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-68159215361362696982009-04-02T13:02:00.000-07:002009-04-18T01:11:39.644-07:00

Today is the final crit for Lucky Dog in the spring workshop with David Schweidel. I think it will go well. I like the piece and--we'll see.I spent some time looking at haciendas for sale yesterday. I want to make Hacienda La Fuente as ideal as I can.Do I have everything I need to begin again? I know a lot more than I did a month ago. Hell of a lot more.Now, take a look at the arc again and see

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-41411355456158338252009-04-02T12:48:00.000-07:002009-04-18T01:02:32.877-07:00

La Fuente remained in the only part of the hacienda left standing--the servants' quarters. She stayed in the room over the water works. Her son was taken to the city, raised by la bisuela's family in San Cristobal. There the boy became old quick. He became el Patroncito, the lord of the burnt estate. At the same time his mother was cared for by the remaining servants at the estate. They are the

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-11573737022743226492009-04-01T12:04:00.000-07:002009-04-01T12:22:00.443-07:00

Questions: How long has he been at La Fuente?It is the end of the summer; he and Laabuelita have made it through the heat together. He has undergone the training that Laabuelita provides. The training affects the spy and the boy differently.LSPA durationsLSPALaabuelitathe pillone monthstill new?try itthree monthsstrong in initial flowsome trust?six monthsrearrangementtrust failed. conclusions?one

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-62499805107621602672009-04-01T11:11:00.001-07:002009-04-01T11:34:20.600-07:00

El Bisabuelo took the mystical housemaid as a concubine. She gave birth to la Fuente's mother, Ana Portilla, who married a half Italian, Martín Bachio. AP gave birth to the girl, la Fuente. The girl was raped by el Bisabuelo. This produced a boy, later to be known as el Patroncito. When Martín discovered this he burned down the famous Hacienda La Fuente, killing el Bisabuelo and much of his

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-22986030202136286502009-03-30T23:33:00.000-07:002009-03-31T14:05:24.732-07:00

I recently delivered chaps 1-3 of Part One to David Schweidel's Spring Workshop. Crit this Thursday.The blog has declined and slowed a bit from the pace of January. I don't want to take time to "figure out" the blog. I want it to support and not to detract.The Spook as father. Need to create the new dramatic arc. Work to introduce the Anglo spy and the ideas of his father and of the Anglo's

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-17402136955864314562009-03-30T16:03:00.000-07:002009-03-30T23:21:50.011-07:00

The Spook is a father. Cigar.He's developed quite a bit from his initial appearance in the script version (2004). Has he mellowed with age (5 years)?Now I need to re-view the outline with this change (or revelation) in mind.The work of 20 Mar 2009.Off the top of my head, here are the issues before I take a look at the outline.Conflicts, ChallengesManage a lot of details --map who knows what whenI

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-57968327195754670652009-03-19T13:50:00.000-07:002009-03-19T13:51:42.368-07:00

He is the boy's father. The boy knows him, but has no idea that he is CIA. The Spook has arranged this 'coincidence': the boy and LSPA are staying in the same place. The Spook knows that LSPA is careful and kind. He has conflicting impulses when it comes to the boy. He wants him to be brought up well. He wants the spy to care for him, for La Fuente to train him. He wants the boy to be safe--is

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-56320826628739955502009-03-19T09:25:00.000-07:002009-03-19T10:03:13.569-07:00

The relationship with LSPA is much easier for me to work. The rel with Laabuelita is less clear. The rest of the house. Where did it go?La Muchacha IndiaThe talking cross, Santa Cruz and la vida mayaEl PatroncitoThe Anglo (LSPA)La Mescalina (Adara)Protocol, the rules of La FuenteGet into the flow of life at La Fuente.Popol Vuh: the two boys and the lords of Xibalba.How do the boy and young El

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-63080728266511212422009-03-19T00:53:00.000-07:002009-03-19T01:05:41.747-07:00

Read Robert Boswell's essay, The Half Known World for our fiction class in Berkeley. It primarily posits that a wholly known world in fiction is one that is unnaturally limited in order to allow it to be known fully. When a mystery is uncovered, it should illuminate an ever greater mystery.Take a look at plot organization again. Aristotle: plots are made from reversal and recognition.Here's what

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-85370012591516824552009-03-19T00:41:00.000-07:002009-03-19T00:52:49.180-07:00

I am beginning to see my grasp of the novel form take off. Today, spent time with the chapter outline. I am a bit stuck since the outline has been rippling behind my current position in the story. I am finding the crease for the introduction to LSPA. It is raw now. It needs subtlety. Another thing that is wearing on me: what are the plot points for the boy? I am not in control of these points yet.

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-49587715772341490082009-03-05T21:37:00.000-08:002009-03-19T09:58:59.980-07:00

Ah, what a day. The crit went well. Some minor problems with my descriptive plan. The home. The ravine. The walk. They all need more concrete description. The good news is that they are concrete in my head.I could use a new, significant chunk to describe LSPA, but we need to know the foundations sooner and better. I believe the fixes will add less than one page. It will be relatively easy to do.

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-26725027783487438982009-03-01T23:04:00.001-08:002009-03-01T23:04:30.228-08:00

THE BOY.A Federale helicopter beat through the bleach-blue sky above their heads making the old man's words impossible to hear. The back of his chair ground against the weathered limestone brick. As they waited, the old man looked up to the sky, shrugged, and smiled at the boy. To fill the time. The draped cafe table could hold just two plates. The boy's chair legs danced on the edge of the steep

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-77234727477778915642009-02-15T00:58:00.000-08:002009-02-15T01:12:03.105-08:00

THE BOY.The boy had gone to live in the south of Mexico after his parents had died. There he stayed in a large, walled house with a muchacha and an old man people called el Patroncito. Those same people thought the old man was the boy's grandfather.During his first year at the Academy in the small city in which el Patroncito lived, the boy struggled. He had played futbol in chain-linked fields

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-19552938527169258052009-02-12T17:12:00.000-08:002009-02-12T17:39:06.148-08:00

Time for Cody and me to spend some quality time at the big dog park. I need to create a visual pile of canine mannerisms, paying close attention to their reactions to humans and to other dogs.Observe as much business as possible, not just the play movements that everyone recognizes. Business reactions and interactions will provide better fodder.The moment I am writing is very loose. At the same

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-87746299283936030002009-02-12T01:13:00.000-08:002009-02-15T01:28:35.458-08:00

Watershed night on Thursday. There are many things to recount. One thing confirmed: I am doing it. People want to know about the characters. The narrative holds an interesting mystery for them. The language is rich.There are rough drafty flaws--people want to know how old the boy is, what color his hair is, the color of his skin. They want much of this info to come to them by watching rather than

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-24122183623242771372009-01-30T12:38:00.001-08:002009-02-11T14:46:37.822-08:00

[early version of talk with Adara, from part 2]"I was just a young father. The immense joy, I cannot begin to describe to you. But what was I: jealous? With the height of that emotion, the depth of despair seemed deeper than was possible. How do you know if you have a bipolar disorder? Manic depression? Shouldn't there be some sort of cheek swab test for that? It can't be that hard. I'd go to

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-78935303016159737782009-01-30T12:37:00.001-08:002009-02-11T14:50:04.340-08:00

noisesearly morning wake upthe man in his bedmosquito nettingthe out doors noises of the morningthe smells of the house in the morningthe sound of La Fuentethe sounds of the pueblodawnthe meal--el desayuno, corn mealmorning works, the needs of the house, wood chores, time for investigations, cool morningsthe heat of the day--end of "business in the pueblo"tourist buses in the plazathe meal--la

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-1633697071294595192009-01-30T12:36:00.000-08:002009-01-30T12:50:41.847-08:00

The boy woke before dawn to the sound of the old woman walking in the front room of the house. The man was still asleep behind his mosquito netting.The boy opened the door. The old woman kept walking as if asleep. She turned sharply to the boy. Her head cocked."Do you hear that?""What is it?""I thought it was La Fuente talking.""People say that you're La Fuente.""Listen."There was nothing he

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-78404518694549078602009-01-30T12:35:00.001-08:002009-01-30T12:41:22.121-08:00

There wasn't a moment during the next day that the boy let the old woman out of his sight. He sat on his knees in the thick grass behind the house and watched her asleep in a white iron chair. "You don't need to follow me all over Mexico, young one.""It's quite nice in the shade.""Yes, and quiet.""Do you know my name?""No, cariño. I don't know it.""What is that man doing at your house?""The same

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-6779216635455921312009-01-30T12:33:00.000-08:002009-01-30T12:34:47.985-08:00

He used to play at war. He used to pack a backpack with his binoculars, rubber knife, canteen, compass, and stick. The stick was a near perfect gun and he had kept it since he had found it below a stone bridge in the park. He had found it with his father. Past the tennis courts into the big park. Where they rode together.The smell of grass, trees and the decomposing leaves made him seek the

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-43247525302982346422009-01-30T12:31:00.001-08:002009-01-30T12:33:06.367-08:00

His training began next morning. He had slept to 7 o'clock, awakened by a rooster and a mosquito. When he arrived at the kitchen the old woman said, "I threw away your food. It was rancid. You're too late for breakfast."She was cleaning the chin of another stray, an anglo, maybe American, who could barely sit up. The bird and the insect had been trying to warn him. You'll be hungry."Can I make

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-27970204950996597232009-01-29T14:03:00.000-08:002009-01-29T14:10:44.680-08:00

I have been doubting myself and I have not been enjoying it.A slight cold and a certain amount of exhaustion are taking their toll, but it is my inability to find the narrative path for this work that frustrates me most.I made a decision to keep the narration associated with one character for up to 1/4 of the book. I didn't know how to weave these disparate voices. Now I tire of one narration.

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-14584553246200523012009-01-29T13:51:00.000-08:002009-01-29T14:02:47.245-08:00

Pages. The boy must learn the rules of the house. This does not suggest a way forward to me. It is entirely too vague to be of use.- The boy arrives, meets laabuelita. Meets the spy.- Laabuelita starts the hazing. Why?- The Spy seeks to help the sinking boy.The question will arise. What the hell is LSPA doing at the house? I know it has something to do with the Spook's relationship to laFuente

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-37549606058838685892009-01-23T13:43:00.000-08:002009-01-29T13:50:25.357-08:00

Rainy afternoon in Berkeley.The grand time off drawing to a close. The vacuum of a unemployment making a red circle under my chin.Associated chapters with the arc. Part one: 5 chaps (el niño)Part two: 13 chaps (LSPA)Part three: 7 chaps (el Cliquero)Part four: 2 chaps (?)I don't think I know enough to plan for Part four yet. From over whose shoulder would its narration come? I thought for a moment

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-31289356844275239212009-01-22T16:57:00.000-08:002009-01-22T21:02:19.690-08:00

PART ONE - El Niñochapter 1The Boy is driven to San Juan Chamula, Chiapas, Mexico by an old ladino named El Patroncito. Conversation with the Boy: a temporary stay.Cocodrillo. The Boy arrives at the home of Labuelitalafuente where he meets recovering LSPA (late 40s) living and lurking in her home. LSPA is in the midst of a backslide: he has taken the medication that the Spook provided for him. It

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-2017014013316672282009-01-21T13:31:00.000-08:002009-01-29T13:42:34.399-08:00

I'm starting to straighten the outline. The boyThe SpyEl CliqueroThe idea provided me with some relief, thinking that I would only need to write the exposition in one voice. The boy's narration. There were a few other spots that would have been redundant if I had kept both narrations going. Finally I'd like to keep the length down to a minimum.Produce new dramatic arc in electronic version.Part

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-13429724895585278882009-01-21T13:16:00.000-08:002009-01-21T13:49:29.203-08:00

Quick post. Recently I opened my eyes. Here I am struggling with my current plot outline--there are many aspects missing, preventing me from writing directly from the outline--and I began to see what I had been missing most of all.The plot outline for a screenplay--and to review, that's where Lucky Dog originated--doesn't need to take into account the narration of the script. The narration of a

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-39407357392913592292009-01-15T13:17:00.000-08:002009-01-29T13:30:36.815-08:00

Read through the last 3 sections of the boy's intro to laabuelita. Not bad. I fell that I'm getting closer to writing narration from his side--more naturally anyway.As I had thought the relationship evolves as I manifest it. The key for me is to find the boy's attention. What keeps his mind occupied?I looked at a cafe's refrigerated window and saw an empty plate with a "pie" label. What a horror

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-76589782170088765722009-01-14T13:08:00.000-08:002009-01-29T13:17:23.577-08:00

A solid 5 pp today and a sharp edge on the relationship of boy, abuelita, and LSPA. Abuela comes off as a hard case to the boy to begin, and he is both very hungry and very sick.LSPA makes the first move to the boy. His consciousness is hiding below the surface. He will submerge with another round of the Pill.Need to continue with the trip through Cpt. Grose's Dictionary of Vulgar Language. I

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-91250217911475446082009-01-14T00:12:00.000-08:002009-01-14T00:18:48.981-08:00

After a day of soul-searching I am convinced more than ever that this is going to work. I don't mean the blog. Hey, maybe it will flame out entirely. So what. I believe that this book is going to happen. And within a reasonable time frame. I started looking at Wm Gibson's Spook Country. In it there are two things I want to observe. His prose is light and understated. And his concepts are large.I

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-51675118245897409792009-01-11T19:59:00.000-08:002009-01-11T22:31:28.635-08:00

Hi, for all who haven't make it to the comments section in the lower extremities of this blog...Anonymous said the following: The book sounds unreadable. Based on what we see here it's very difficult to imagine your novel ever getting to the "publishing" stage promised in your blog's caption. Respectfully, writing has to be more than an exercise in ego gratification. Your posts seem to be

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-73227823849196217432009-01-09T09:16:00.000-08:002009-01-09T09:18:23.961-08:00

I'm going to sing you a tale that comes to usFrom the starsThe king most barbarous Don Perdoza de Hermoza de la SelvaWith a heart of an IndianIt was the 26th of MarchAnd Martín Bachio was trying to feed his broodHis children were hungry, sick with swollen belliesAnd eyes that bulged yellow and brownHe worked for Don PerdozaIn the Selva, Don de la Selva, Where is the jungle? Martín askedTo find

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-38961148054403180232009-01-07T13:21:00.000-08:002009-01-09T13:26:39.524-08:00

He didn't want to close his eyes. The spray had made him cold. The sweet smell of Cocodrillo's arms enwrapped him. The bag that held his things sat sadly on the soft dirt and disappeared as they climbed the last stones to the top of the hill. At the top the path flattened out and merged with a wider path that ringed the rim of the valley in both directions. A trim, white dog sat watching at the

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-44130378140021036152009-01-05T01:16:00.000-08:002009-01-05T01:18:07.472-08:00

Man, false man, smiling, destructive man. Theodosius (Nathaniel Lee)The Boy climbed the raw gully toward the white house. It had fascinated him since he first saw it through the trees at the bottom. Now that he was midway up the hill, the rim of the valley was lit with the reflection from its walls. Orange-rimmed thunderclouds cushioned the large trees that boxed the house like a ring in a

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-84443392499681133752009-01-03T02:07:00.000-08:002009-01-03T02:17:07.177-08:00

The lengths of time for 'the Spook secreting the Spy' and for 'moving him to Chamula' will need to be appropriate to the preparation and intentions of the Spook.Has the Spook timed the capture of LSPA and prepared La Fuente? The Boy shows that La Fuente is a known quantity for the Spook. What part does the Boy play in the Spook's grand plan? Not certain. Think, think.The Spook and the BoyThis is

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-22618973386135956322009-01-03T01:32:00.000-08:002009-01-03T02:06:04.285-08:00

It's 2009 and the writing must become real now. Exposition and narration--I am teaching myself both and who knows? Who knows?Raintree County50pp in and I think I have an undertanding of the balanceJohn Shawnessy--present day protag.TC Shawnessy--his father.--but, the world has been brought up around the sheriff like a curtain. Very few moments of present day with him. Therefore it seems it isn't

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-48783412736526950012008-12-30T17:12:00.000-08:002008-12-30T17:18:27.837-08:00

This is the rest of it. He hadn't eaten what she had put on the table for him. He had retained no sense about eating or self-preservation. All he knew was that he had not been taking the Pill. The absence of effect of the Pill. Looking deep into the absence he knew nothing. He would let himself discover eventually that an absence had no implications. It was the thing uncovered that had

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-47016186515270207192008-12-29T15:29:00.000-08:002008-12-29T16:54:21.381-08:00

Narration is its own language. What is it? How does it work? Is narration the equivalent of storytelling? Perhaps, but the focus of the existence of narration--an instance of narration--is its purpose. The narrator is not a camera, the narrator has something to say and a vantage from which to say it.I indeed have something to say--how to say it is not clear. I have a purpose. State it. Argh. Is

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-6790520202330508852008-12-18T21:56:00.000-08:002008-12-18T22:11:17.211-08:00

Tuesday was a breakthrough day. Invention of The Pill. I had been thinking that the Spy would have a drug problem, and like David Lynch in Blue Velvet I was having a problem with the realities of drug problems. I didn't want to write a book about narcotics dependencies. I wanted a tool. The drug needed to be a narrative tool, not a realistic element. The Pill is an enigma.Like every other enigma

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-61938680337790312472008-12-18T21:41:00.000-08:002008-12-18T21:51:40.467-08:00

Thank you, Silvia Alencar, blogger at http://meunomesilvia.blogspot.com/ (there is an automated English translation that isn't half bad) for being the first to comment on this blog. Maybe people are reading it and running away in terror, I don't know. And at this point, that may be okay. This is a raw look at something people rarely see. It's exhibitionist and crude. It's in some cases bad.

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-41455962115938695342008-12-18T11:30:00.000-08:002008-12-18T11:34:16.463-08:00

There are stages in the narration related to the Spy.fried, but in withdrawaljust frieddrugged remembrance imagesstandard past narrative recounting (narrative voice)memory stories---simple present present continuous---Here is the way it progresses:Opening: he has started to wean himself from the Pill. La Fuente is pushing this effort. This implies that he had a history with the Pill, a course

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-58179826516741669252008-12-16T15:26:00.000-08:002008-12-16T18:00:16.311-08:00

Chatted with Bruce Tomb at friend Peter McCandless birthday party. I'm honing the Lucky Dog chit chat version. AKA Elevator speech, pitch, etc. It's going better than it used to. A spy. A boy. A figment. I told the Spy's story at 100,000 feet. Two sentences on the Boy and left the figment (el Cliquero) to the end. Bruce's question came later.What motivated you to choose this subject matter?The

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-78237662425750507382008-12-16T15:19:00.000-08:002008-12-16T15:23:36.876-08:00

He was trying to blink. No, he was blinking. He was blinking away some accumulation of dust that had caked in his eye since he had not been blinking for the past... for a certain, indeterminate duration of time. He was succeeding in blinking, but it wasn't having the effect he had desired. Wait, there. Yes. Back to normal sight. Although there remained a haze around his seeing. Like a constant

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-27489345726783906862008-12-12T19:51:00.000-08:002008-12-12T20:47:25.240-08:00

It turns out I'm riding a sharper rail than I had imagined. Usually, I'm pretty calm. Objective. Able to focus in a single bound. Lately, things have been eating away at me. The layoff. The economy. Working in the basement--not finding a cafe that suits me. I started digging deeper and with bared claws in arguments with my family. Particularly with Tracy. I signed up for career counseling (the

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-49827822719673631702008-12-11T23:21:00.000-08:002008-12-11T23:29:01.762-08:00

O! Virilis, One-Clawed-King, no one who comes later will know precisely the pleasure you derived from the rolling movements of the sloth or the snapping sounds of dry reeds on wind-driven days.What time was it? He tried to keep his eye on the clock. But there was no clock. The sun rose up over the hill and shown into the valley and produced a sudden heat that was shocking. Still shocking to this

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-44193280130261610952008-12-02T00:41:00.000-08:002008-12-02T01:20:49.470-08:00

I've been remaking my studio and turned up this little note from before Lucky Dog was a concept for the script I was going to write in Oaxaca.---What will this script tell us?This future script?Why do I write or want to make films?To tell the story.The story of horrorof injusticeof the sorts of things people need to hear, but don't listen toof heroic foolsunpunished liars.of my loves and hated

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-30558989652519056872008-12-01T11:08:00.000-08:002008-12-01T11:10:20.353-08:00

O! Virilis, One-Clawed-King, no one who comes later will know precisely the pleasure you derived from the rolling movements of the sloth or the snapping sounds of dry reeds on wind driven days.Which chimney, among the hundreds, is yours? Craning your pumping thorax, lengthening with each generation, you pause to see what lies above. Kicking backwards, sluice and shape another block to form the

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-20506985384882380422008-11-30T14:48:00.000-08:002008-12-11T23:27:35.624-08:00

With the pueblo in sight, it would take another hour to get to it. The boy didn't know this. To him it seemed as if at the next turn the road would finally take a decisive, business like cut down to the blue smoke chimneys and tall white steeple of the groggy town. He was groggy himself.The boy's eyes shot open. The scream had felt like a sharp shovel edge against his spine. Had it been the old

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-18985274120665660302008-11-26T11:29:00.000-08:002008-11-30T14:45:05.267-08:00

This is such a lame question to pose, but it's there and needs to be answered.I feel lashed to the lean and opinion-less straight-forward descriptions of the screenplay. And now with the gates to the opportunities of narration thrown open my experience still lies in the simple lines and simple descriptions of the script.Why am I holding back? Turn it loose. This is what I need to do: WRITE THE

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-23237785822141293322008-11-19T00:03:00.001-08:002008-11-19T00:10:47.054-08:00

TR Studio Sept 2007Originally uploaded by ehusserlThis Thursday comes early, the point at which I am laid off from my post at Western Union San Francisco (with the remainder of the office of 50). I've known about it since June, it's no surprise. I get flecks of anger from the situation--it's a long story without many interesting turns. I've learned a great deal in the last three years. Most of

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-70685362082073686952008-11-18T22:42:00.000-08:002008-11-18T23:38:55.810-08:00

Reading The Old Gringo (Fuentes), an essay about the entwined relationship of Mexico and US at its most basic level of intimacy. I retreat from using an essayist approach of writing the meanings of characters' inner lives. Each argument is simply the forthright declarative statement of character on the subject of another character, but it takes on the weight of essay. Clear and thick. There is so

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-60262386991098155062008-11-14T12:15:00.000-08:002008-11-18T23:25:36.218-08:00

Reading Vernor Vinge's A Deepness in the Sky. At page 450+ it's gaining some much needed momentum. I'm fascinated by his concept, focus, that creates mental slaves of unwitting persons. The book really dances the same line on which pre-abolitionist new worlders must have danced. If they could just ignore the humanist issues, focus slavery would be good for the peddlers' business. The nuts and

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-25761466713695323392008-11-02T21:44:00.000-08:002008-11-03T00:14:55.758-08:00

Where did this writing urge come from? Why am I doing this? What precedes the actions, the pain and the self-discipline? Well, let's take a look.Just this past week, on Facebook, I ran into an old friend of mine from Indiana University. She used to live over my apartment on College Av. in Bloomington when I was 24 and stupid and strong and as naive as anyone should ever get. I was living with my

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-54929951402929370982008-10-30T14:27:00.000-07:002008-10-30T14:36:35.547-07:00

I am feeling upbeat about the last few pages of writing. It's going well. I have a true character in the Boy. He is there, palpable, I think. I liked what I read yesterday--2pp on the Boy's arrival in Chamula. Intro to the dogs of Chamula. To be honest, it's the most I've written about these particularly blessed dogs. Not much made it into the script about the Chamula dogs.It's funny. I have a

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-50928096200033888412008-10-28T15:56:00.000-07:002008-11-30T15:04:05.790-08:00

In 2004 I began to be attracted to the idea that Aristotle's Poetics could be adapted to help me write screenplays. I quickly grabbed a copy from a local Ithaca bookstore on my way out of the country and started taking notes on the plane. It was a good fit. Here are the notes I took. [Subsequently, I see that someone else has had a similar idea--and that it's published. Way to go!]All human

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-77505958359316190232008-10-14T22:48:00.000-07:002008-10-14T22:55:41.468-07:00

Okay. I just read through the TEXT: The Boy and The Maestra. You get a chance to see something that I normally don't reveal. Things as they appear fresh from the cheese factory. In a way it's disheartening to see my work in this form. I hope that for others, it is inspiring. This is writing as it happens, without any editing in some cases. This is what happened at Cafe Mediteraneo one night. The

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-12130268731910246112008-10-09T13:09:00.000-07:002008-10-28T11:43:28.240-07:00

This is the next installment of my notes from Guerrilla Warfare. It will take us through the end of the main essay. The appendices will follow in a later notes set.WARFARE ON UNFAVORABLE GROUNDFundamental requisites are the same as before, but the forms must change. Focus on extraordinary mobility. Strikes at night. Range of man at night: 30 to 50 km.Weapons of choice: Automatics. And lots of

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-32688637076454836052008-10-09T00:49:00.000-07:002008-10-14T09:13:42.168-07:00

He became more interested in school. He had learned--for the most part--how to avoid the naive, inflammatory spiral that lead to a beating. He made awkward attempts to learn the way local children spoke.After classes on Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday the School Director, Maestra Carla, studied with him in her oficina. There were grey rings below her eyes, from smoking he thought, and

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-7717994551227247682008-09-26T22:59:00.000-07:002008-10-03T23:53:43.344-07:00

I'm half way through creating my condensed version of Guerrilla Warfare. I did this with Aristotle's Poetics with a twist in 2005 while writing the screenplay, Lucky Dog (holy crap, there's a book written in 2002 that did the same thing).I'm excited by the idea of having a condensed overview of Guerrilla Warfare. Plus this is helping me to understand clearly the concepts and to apply them to el

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-34520135978766608372008-09-15T15:13:00.000-07:002008-09-15T15:27:28.427-07:00

For those of you who don't connect with my microblog via Twitter, I barely made it out of Cafe Mediterraneum with one page last night. And the text was squirrely. Okay, here it is. I'll include a paragraph before and one after to show where the text fits.//In a drawer he had found a gigantic pair of chrome scissors and a thin paperback in a box. It had been the only book in the cabinets in

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-67479464206144029332008-09-09T14:58:00.001-07:002008-09-10T12:14:03.139-07:00

The BoyThere once was a boy who had gone to live in the south of Mexico after his parents had died. There he lived in a large, walled house with a muchacha and an old man people called "el Patroncito". The same people thought the old man was the boy's grandfather.During his first year at the Academy in the small city in which el Patroncito lived, the boy struggled. He had played futbol in

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-26071895103483680582008-08-27T11:34:00.000-07:002008-09-09T16:22:57.204-07:00

I am most of the way through with Che Guevara's Guerrilla Warfare. No matter what I'm reading I start to get a feeling for how that particular book relates to one particular character in Lucky Dog. In this case, it's el Cliquero.Una banda guerrilla de unoWhat made me think of el Cliquero and how will I use the book? The guerrilla band as Guevara describes it approaches indivisibility. It is a

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-43174172231918443612008-08-12T16:48:00.000-07:002008-08-14T13:19:15.416-07:00

I just started working out at the Ice Chamber in Albany, CA. Waking up years of sedentary computer lead and making things I forgot I had very sore. In concert, I've been reducing the amount of sugar overall that I've been taking in. Add the two of those together and I am having a very hard time staying awake after kids' bedtime to do anything, much less writing. No amount of coffee will kick

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-28466829585078158482008-07-31T17:14:00.000-07:002008-07-31T22:30:05.617-07:00

Recently finished "The Fantastic Inventions of Nicola Tesla by Nicola Tesla". Any book called "the fantastic inventions of me by the author" can't be too ortho. Though it holds some interesting information, toward the back of the book it leads into the description of Tesla in Atlantis. That can't be good.I've also been reading "The Problem of Increasing Human Energy" by Nicola Tesla (note

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-67917562824706279062008-07-28T02:05:00.000-07:002008-09-09T16:27:01.892-07:00

There are a lot of things going through my mind as I write this.My mom came out from Indiana for a short visit. I haven't seen her for a long time. And now after two short days of visiting, it's over. She leaves tomorrow while I'm at work.My Western Union job is going away in November. I believe I've mentioned this earlier, but the topic keeps coming up in conversation, in passing, in sleep. I

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-59991554569974551302008-07-24T01:20:00.000-07:002008-07-24T01:29:23.717-07:00

He was tired, but the newness kept him awake. As they passed things in the old car he recalled the names el Patroncito gave them. Milpas were little backyard cornfields where people could get food. He could see them through the thinning jungle as the old man wound around the dizzy roads. Altares, though it sounded like the name of a star, were roadside collections of things with crosses and dolls

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-91469939366024720522008-07-14T02:06:00.000-07:002008-07-14T02:10:34.363-07:00

What can one find beneath a park bench in Mexico City, el Distrito Federal?Under this bench was a wet bag of popcorn, remnants of a burst eight foot tubular Scooby Do balloon, two nearly empty water bottles (one with its lid, one accordianed unevenly holding coffee ground brown liquid and matches), a flattened deep blue Jumex box (sabor: jugo de piña), a disintegrated condom mass melted and open

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2021254512479999990.post-86535228262224248312008-07-14T00:08:00.000-07:002008-07-14T01:59:14.896-07:00

It all relates to an experience I had in film school. A woman came to show her latest audio technology breakthrough. It was a little set that produced subsonic audio waves to treat patients. The therapist listened to the patient and determined what frequencies the patient was missing, based on the group's knowledge of the normal tones of a healthy human body. Then, with the set, the therapist

Thomas Richardsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13954729687748953975noreply@blogger.com0