|Bring Me Your Maidens!|
This is not a castle in the traditional sense. If I was going to be very technical, and very unimaginative, I would say that where I’m writing is a house with a castle exterior on the front. The inside has rooms with carpet, chairs, tables, desks and no signs of dragons. I don’t even think there are any suits of armors or long swords here. And it is doubtful that I will find Edward Longshanks sitting in a throne room. Mainly because he is dead and there is no throne room.
The place I am at is called the Writer’s Place. It is a home, roughly 100 years old, and sits in the middle of an old neighborhood. There are apartments behind it, normal houses on either side and the street is like any street in America. There is also no drawbridge but give me some time and wood and I can probably fix that.
I am here because I am now a member of the Writers Place. I have paid membership dues and have kept the receipt to deduct from my taxes. Now it’s truly official, I am a writer. I’m not sure of the history of the home other than that someone very rich, very long ago, decided that he wanted his home to have a tower and be covered in limestone blocks rather than wood and brick. This is a home builder that I can relate to. This person eventually died and his descendants decided to make it a place for writers to come work. Thus, the Writers Place became a non-profit and so here I sit, typing away while looking for invaders.
It is run by a lady named Natasha, a very literary name much in the same vein of Tolstoy. When I first met her she had on 24 scarfs, all of different colors, black square glasses, and blazing red hair. I asked if she was perhaps Professor Trelawny. I tend to make awkward jokes although that was not one of them, that was funny.
Quickly ditching my preconceived ideas of a castle and that I should go find a troll in the basement (there isn’t), I have now set up shop at the Writer’s Place to work on my book.
Wait, what’s that? A book? Is this whole post really just a vehicle to self-publicize that Hossman is writing a book?
No, this is a post about Hossman sitting on top of a fucking castle!
And yes, I’m finally writing a book about the misadventures of me and the children. It’s a book that will have heroes and villains, stunning defeats and great victories. And sometimes my wife will freak out when I take the kids on a bridge that is technically “not safe for crossings.” Pshtt, what do engineers know? We are still here, aren’t we!
I find it difficult to write at home with all the screaming and victory going on. To truly get the words down on paper, to craft the story that will make you laugh and want to get into my pants at the same time. It’s a skill and I need someplace epic to do it.
So here we are, epically on top of a castle. Well, not anymore. I’m in the library because castles do not have power outlets on the towers. Now I’m in the castle and as it’s getting close to lunch time I am expecting a roast boar to be brought to my table. Perhaps I will get to meet the court jester and later I will go for a hunt.
The work on the Hossman book continues. I don’t know how long it will take me to finish and I suppose it will depend on the number of disputes I have to rule on between the peasants. That may delay me. I will be a fair lord though, one that only boot stomps only the lowest. I’ll post updates here and there on the book as I get to them. The process of writing it is full of ups and downs, victories and defeats.
And there is no better place to plan your battles than within the safe confines of a castle. I’ve got time here.
But first, I’m going to need to dig a moat. All good castles have a moat around them.
|We Need To Build A Moat|