Freelance Producer = MicahGrimes.com - Social Media Consultant - Writer - Producer
Novelist - Photographer - Musician - Philosopher
Minimalist Traveler - Maximum Experience-er
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I’ve never really provided a basic description of what this novel I’m working on is basically about. So, here:
Based in the small phosphate mining town of Brooks, in the heart of rural central Florida, where the naiveties and fairytales of love Maggie Sullivan thought were confirmed through more than a year of marriage to Wyatt Sullivan came to a malevolent end with his telling her one morning with the confidence and certainty she loved, he no longer loved her.
For the first time, Maggie noticed the sound of Wyatt’s boots hitting the floor as he extradited himself from their home and from her life, forcing into motion a life spent attempting to find and rip out the anchor she cast deep inside her heart for the man.
This manuscript delves deep into the psyche of a young woman dealing with evil perceived in the form of painful periods of this young woman’s life.
It showcases the oft inability of a woman to truly move past her first love and the affect this inability has over the course of a molding life.
She sometimes wondered if maybe he’d held his left arm to the side of the bed, fingers crossed, with no intention of ever believing in what he said the way she believed in what he said.
It may have been that her reality was juxtaposed to his.
Maybe she was in love, he was floundering.
Maybe she wanted a life together, he wanted out long ago.
Maybe she wanted to hear what she wanted to hear, and he was willing to tell her.
—-
Micah Grimes - If Rules Were Followed
The algorithm Facebook deploys to make the user experience more interesting to the user is quite basic, though it may look like an English major’s nightmare:
- ΣR = aΣ wΣ dΣ
- Σ = edge
If you were looking at this algorithm on a Dry Erase board, with no reference, you would wonder why you were being subject to algebra and ask to leave as quickly as possible.
It’s simple really.
The EdgeRank, or ΣR, is the calculation of affinity (edge) x weight (edge) x decay (edge).
“…But as agitating and maddening as making an error in copy can be, noting and correcting these errors pointed out by your social media users can save the further heartache of letting the error sit on your website or platforms. It is better to be lambasted by five or 10 readers than to lose credibility from the many thousands who will read the error throughout the life of the error’s posting…”
Bear falls from tree after tranquilized on University of Colorado campus — And now, the necessary Soulja Boy meme - (Original PHOTO/Andy Duann, CU Independent photographer | Meme/@MicahGrimesBN9) —
Manuscript page 123… probably the most graphic section of the novel, but very real for many people, sadly.
They sat there in the fading light of a wondrous central Florida sunset.
The Sun was indifferent to them and had no opinion, letting its light fade on them as they faded on themselves.
Dusk settled the land and the darkness would once more come behind.
God let the color pour out of the clouds, and as it had millions upon millions of times before, it would be back the next day and go on, and their lives would go on, just as it had that day and the day before, and the day before that.
Tappan Zee Bridge stretches a foggy Hudson River - Dec. 2011
(PHOTO/@MicahGrimesBN9)
Momma teaches Naomi how to play the piano.
(PHOTO/Micah Grimes, April 23, 2012)
“He ain’t just some little boy. He’s Wyatt’s little boy! Damn, Maggie! You act like he didn’t ruin your life and cast you aside like a cheap whore. He’s playing a game -– was playing a game with you.
He stopped and looked back at her, surveying her eyes, her face and everything in between.
“You still don’t see it.”
She stopped walking the steps after Blake spoke the words. He kept going and walked on into the house, closing the door behind him.
He didn’t slam the door, but he closed it with emphasis.
She thought for a second and then ran up the stairs, across the porch and swung the door open.
“Ruined my life? Do you think my life is ruined? What do you think this is here? Did you marry a ruined woman? Did you marry a cheap whore? What are you trying to say, Blake?”
“Stop putting words in my God damn mouth, Maggie! I didn’t mean that and you know it.”
She paused and looked to the distance out the window. Her lips began to quiver and she’d grown to understand that her body only did that when she was on the verge of bad.
“I don’t know what’s happened to you, but you ain’t the same, Blake. The Blake that was there for me and loved me when I needed him, that’s the Blake I know. You told me you would always be there for me! Where are you now?”
He left his seat on the couch.
“I’m here, God damn’t! I’m here! Are you blind? Can you not see me? I’m right here!” he yelled for the world to hear.
The house hear, but no the world.
Maggie began to sob as she put her head in her hands. Blake walked to her and moved past to the window. He stared out and across to the other houses on the block. He looked at what had come to be their boat on the other side of the driveway. He looked at the landscaping and he looked at the tall oak that had been in that yard since his daddy was a boy.
“Is this not being there for you? Have I not provided for you?”
“Yes.” It was a cry, not an answer.
“I’ve done so much for you! More than I ever should have! And how do you repay me? By asking me to help you support the son of a man who has done nothing but screw you? I might as well just give you my pride and let you go burry it in the front yard with a shovel. Then you can put a sign behind it that says, ‘Here Is Blake’s pride. Point and laugh at your leisure.’”
“You men and your damn pride. Walk around! Beat your damn chest anytime another male struts!”
“You men, huh? I’m just any other man? Nothing different.”
“Well, I thought you were, but I’m beginning to rethink it.”
It was poignant.
She was expressing herself in a manner most of the women in Brooks would not have done. She would tell you she wasn’t a woman to speak at her husband like that, but what she said she did and what she did were two distinct matters.
Her raising by men made her that way and it was rearing its head.
Her words were empowered and independent; characteristics she felt when docile were immature and didn’t want to be a part of.
“Well, I guess if you already think I’m like the rest, I might as well go ahead and be like the rest.”
He walked past Maggie, opened the door and slammed it behind him.
Excerpt from “If Rules Were Followed” - By Micah Grimes
I have found I hate the word ‘that’, the direction up and argue w. myself on ‘ed’ and ‘ing’ — Novel editing continues:
I believe GTFU should be immediately followed by GOGO — Go On, Get Out.
*IF* it turns out George Zimmerman is telling truth, and HE was attacked, will we stand up and ask how a man’s character can be so assassinated by a nation?
—-
Keyword: *If* — If you care to debate, please recognize the theoretical questioning.
