WRITING AND PODCASTING A NOVEL 2 NOV 2020
Todays Topic
Welcome friend to Create Art Podcast where we create more than we consume. I am Timothy Kimo Brien your thankful head instigator with over 20 years in arts and education helping you tame your inner critic and provide you with commentary, interviews, discussions, and projects that will inspire you to create art. This month I will be podcasting daily and writing a novel in 30 days. I am participating in NaPodPoMo and NaNoWriMo. You will be able to listen to what I wrote for the day and read it at the same time. I like to practice what I preach when it comes to art so I am challenging myself to write and having you come along for the ride. I hope this inspires you to accomplish your goals with your art and if you would like to share what you are doing email me at timothy@createartpodcast.com
The Story So Far
2 Nov 2020 day count 1565 cumulative count 3507
Carl got into his car. On the dash, the clock flashed 9:00. He was about 10 minutes away from the doctor’s office and he would make it with a few minutes to spare. He turned on the car and opened the windows. Lit a cigarette from the crushed pack and sucked I the fumes for a moment. He switched his phone to a podcast he was listening to yesterday that he wanted to finish and pulled the car out of the parking spot. He was sure that the conversation would be about the recent MRI he had and all that entailed, more MRI’s, his doctor recommending another procedure for more in depth testing, more money to be spent that he would have rather saved for a rainy day. Its not that he did not have insurance, it is just that with every test, with every appointment, he was always rubbing up against his annual maximum benefit. During his last brain surgery, he hit his maximum that year just from that one procedure and it did not slow the glacial growth of the tumor. Sure, everything was “free” for the rest of the year, but he had to call his brother to help him after the procedure to watch him for 4 days. He hated calling on anyone for assistance, especially his family.
These thoughts and others brought him to the doctor’s office without him realizing it. The building was a three-level box near the mall. He had to maneuver the car around the back as the parking lot was already full at this time of day. This office was not like his primary care docs office which was much more inviting and had a better parking lot, this office was tucked away, not visible from the main road. He often wondered how his brain doc decided on this place to establish his practice. He found a spot that was not too crowded, the car next to him had handicap plates as the handicap spots had been filled probably by daybreak. The car was askew in the spot, but not too much, Carl was able to fit his vehicle between the car and the curb. He got out and headed around the building to the main entrance. He would have to take the elevator today as the stairs were being mopped according to the wet floor sign blocking the stairway door. The elevator was slow and would get him to the office on the third floor just in time for his name to be called. It smelled a little like urine, and e was sure when he was done, the custodian would have it blocked off to clean up the accident that must have recently happened.
Once the door slipped open to the third floor, he got out with his insurance card in hand and approached the receptionist. She was on the phone with another patient that from what he could tell was giving her all sorts of grief. Without a word he signed in, smiled at the harried receptionist and handed his card and driver’s license to her.
“Good morning Carl, I’ll be...
