I've really been into blogging lately. I have the equipment that I could do podcasts. I have an entire series of two-minute videos based on another blog I sometimes go back to. The Catectives: Gritty Tales of Cats that are Detectives has a modest following. If you're interested in reading that one, here's a link: https://thecatectives.wordpress.com/ . I've also written a two-act play based on the Catectives. It uses puppets in Act One and less of these props in Act Two.
I also write The Lonely Street Bar Noir Pub Crawl that grew out of my appreciation for Golden Age noir films. The blog tours the bars, clubs, and hotspots seen in these films.
I revamped one called Whistle and Steam. It was my attempt at steampunk. I didn't really grasp steampunk. To me it's an alternate universe of sassy Jules Verne. The new one is set to drop a Narnia-like tale with a bear and a feral hog instead of a righteous lion and a goat-man.
I started a fictional murder mystery that morphed into a kind of urban fantasy. The. Noir Car blog is about fifteen chapters in length as I write this. I stepped back when I had line edits to address for publishers and editors. Noir Car relies heavily on A.I. illustrations. Sometimes I use ChatGPT and tweak the prose it gives me. At this point, I think I have close to 500 images. I don't use them all. I feel that would be crazy.
My oldest blog is The Hard-Nosed Sleuth. This was my first blog, I believe. I conducted online interviews with some fellow crime writers, reviewed movies. The blog addressed my continuing novelettes featuring slacker P.I. with a gambling problem, Harry Landers. I sold the hell out of those stories. Then one day the publisher shut down and Harry has been in Limbo ever since.
With Flash Jab Fiction, I ran writing contests where the prize was publication on the blog.
I wrote a blog called Zombie Locator. Hmm.
Somewhere out there is a blog about my experience with a 2003 Pontiac Vibe.
For a while, I wrote kids' books and plays. I penned a fantasy tale of a princess who is lost in a horrible place called the Crusted Swamp but is rescued by a creature called Stumptoad. The princess is blindfolded when Stumptoad finds her. He takes her to his home where he insists he must remain anonymous and asks her to wear the blindfold until her father can send someone to bring her home. Weeks go by and a relationship develops between Stumptoad and the princess. Reading it now, I realize the two main characters experienced the Stockholm Syndrome.
Then I wrote westerns. Started a blog called The Greenhorn Trail. I still write westerns, though the market shrinks. For some reason, the mommy-porn demographic has co-opted the cowboy...
I did a blog about the 2016 World Series between the Cubs and the Guardians.
This all brings me to this latest blog. Stumpstone, a large rock that once upon a time sat on the stump of a downed sugar-maple tree. When I first saw it, I thought of Devil's Tower as depicted in Close Encounters of the Third Kind. I referred to it as Gibraltar but was ridiculed for not being original. Twenty-three years after putting my foot on the stone like we're taught John Smith or William Bradford or little Mary Chifton put a foot upon Plymouth Rock, Stumpstone sits where I found it. The stump long ago disintegrated beneath it but the actual rock remains, tenaciously set in the field of passing years.
My goal is to celebrate a year in Stumpstone's journey. A picture a day with a reflection, an essay, a poem. Whatever.
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