3,445 and Man, Do I Need Some Inspiration

What a shit writing day I had yesterday... I have so much to write but just can't seem to figure out how to pace appropriately, and am not finding the words! I think today is the day I stop caring about what I write and it's early in the process for that, but usually that's when writing becomes fun again. Sigh... I have Week 2 blues on Day 2... never a good sign. I introduced Jackie's Place today, just because. Jackie's Place in this novel is in Black Wood, Ontario, a South Western farming community, which I described as a barren wasteland for some reason. I have been saying a lot of really inaccurate and uninformed things about farming. Yikes. Well, here is an excerpt, and please, be heavy handed with the enthusiasm, I need the cheerleading today! I imagine Jackie looks like Kiefer Sutherland, I'm not sure if this is exactly as it always has been, or a weird twist in the EsNo Multiverse. I'm becoming increasingly disoriented by the 20+ novels we have churned out.

So here it is, in all its glorious hyperbole in inaccuracy... Black Wood, Ontario and Jackie's Place. In every inhabited area of the planet, no matter how remote, there is always a place for people to gather. So it has always been, and so it remains, even in the much maligned farmlands of South Western Ontario, where, if you were to have the misfortune of driving through these deserted wastelands, you might come to believe that life had never touched this corner of the Earth, and that if it had, it certainly would not have the modern day equivalent of the watering hole. But people are people, and even in Black Wood, they come together. In Black Wood, there were two places the locals liked to gather. Every town in Canada has a Royal Canadian Legion. I believe it has been put into law, but cannot strictly say that there is any evidence that this is the case. But the Legion was usually deserted, as the locals favoured the colourful exploits of the grumpy proprietor of Jackie’s Place. As is often the case in small towns, the restaurant/café/bar was located in what had once been a home, and the décor had changed little since it actually had been a home, which added to the peculiar sensation when you were in Jackie’s Place that you were just hanging out in the proprietor’s living room. Against his will, since he generally seemed to wish that everyone would leave. This did little to dissuade the locals, who flocked to Jackie’s Place like a group of enthusiastic physiotherapists to a pile of jock straps. At the best of times, farmers have a tough lot in my life. It is my understanding that virtually all levels of government care little for farmers, and in fact have put laws into existence that oppress and otherwise make life difficult for farmers. Apparently, reminders are frequently needed that farmers are in fact the producers of food that feed cities. Or so I’ve heard, but I know little of such things. In times of particular stress, like during the drought they were all experiencing in the summer of 2012, the locals of Black Wood, who were almost all tied to agricultural industry in one way or another met there with even more regularity, much to the chagrin of Jackie, who prayed for rain more vigorously than made sense for a man who had no concern for the wellbeing of his neighbours. Or perhaps more appropriately, a man who disbelieved in the power of prayer. But Jackie is a complex man, with complex motivations, and above all else that we can say about Jackie, we can all agree that he is not who he pretends to be. Let’s leave it at that.