Notes from a {prole} writer in Minneapolis

1/10/26

Testing testing.

I’m starting this journal the same way that my main character in my debut novel “Life Belongs to the Loud” starts hers. She’s writing away at her day job, or night job rather, as she works as a security guard watching over a factory building in the middle of M-Town, Iowa.

In my case, as of right now, I’m talking into a microphone into my trusty iPhone, which I guess the kids would say is archaic—or if there’s a Gen Z way of saying archaic someone please tell me.

Anyways, the main character, Azul is an extension of myself because I used to Journal all the time since my high school days. It passes the time. I recently re-read all my journals back when I was 18 years old. A transitional time, because I just graduated high school and we were moving to what would be the main centerpiece of the novel: Mtown, which is Marshalltown Iowa.

It’s crazy to look back on those journals to see how far I’ve grown & how much frustration I had in my situation back then. I left that part out in the book. I didn’t want to get too far Into the backstory, that would’ve been too much for the reader, and the writer too.

People who have read the novel asked me, after revealing to them the female character Azul was really just an extension of me, “Why did you write yourself as a girl?”

I wanted to challenge myself. I have a penchant for doing impressions. I have an acting background, I guess that’s my acting background kind of put into writing. There are at least three different voices in the novel. I wrote 80+ characters and it was draining. Which is why for this second novel that I’m working on right now, I’m actually recording the audiobook, there’s not that many voices. For example, I have a 1st person POV written as a couple of brief chapters that show our characters inner thoughts on a certain day. Our heroes; but nothing beyond that. The entire novel will be all omniscient 3rd person—which is easier to write and read overall.

Paragraph space. (Haha! Whoops)

I guess I have to learn how to format journals on Apple. I’m speaking into a microphone which…I’m tripping out right now. It’s a lot faster than getting a notebook and scribbling away with a pen like I used to do. I simply just don’t have the time anymore. It’s good practice for public speaking though, since I’m in the middle of recording an audiobook. My inflections— I’ve always had a lot of trouble with those. I have a slight verbal handicap because I got a big tongue. I guess I can practice this way. Pronunciation, breathing control, and tongue inflections. Yeah, I need to probably get a speech coach after a while.

So, I’m glad I’m making something out of that—and to describe my environment that I’m speaking in right now is at work. I’m not a security guard like Azul was, but it’s 4:51 in the morning. I am at ground zero Minneapolis, Minnesota.

Minneapolis has unfortunately been in the news recently. I’m not gonna sugarcoat…It fucking sucks that this is happening. 5 months ago, I left Iowa. It was a long time coming.

Here in Minneapolis, the music is awesome, there are resources for women’s health pretty much everywhere, the hospitals are the best in the nation. The people here are generally pretty mellow. It’s just a different vibe that I’ve been lacking for a while now since the political hatred had been festering and hemorrhaging from a huge segment of the population back in Iowa became the new reality. But I don’t feel that here. Folks just wanna live their lives day-to-day. It’s a nice cluster of towns put together and each one has their own vibe. A lot of my people back in Iowa say, “Minneapolis is too cold!” It is in Iowa too. I don’t mind the snow. Snow inspires me. I like the changing of the seasons for writing. It’s prime for a writer. Drastic seasons really fuel the creativity.

So as not to say that Iowa wasn’t conducive to creativity, but the Twin Cities has book stores every few blocks. There is modern artwork, international artwork. Conducive. Very inspiring. Local businesses too. Lots of local businesses. Very thriving. Sure, we got our Walmarts and Targets, but those aren’t the beacons.

Food. Oh my God the food is amazing here. It would take a lifetime to eat at all the restaurants here! All the different food in Midtown alone.

It’s a little expensive to live here, but that’s everywhere nowadays. The game of monopoly, it’s all coming to a head.

Last night I watched AIM (American Indian movement), they did a live feed talking with citizens. They were giving them resources. Where to go, to call in case ice comes through the doors or harasses them. Kidnaps them…Not everything we hear about is on video. The bastards like it when they do their no-good deeds when no one is looking.

Our strength is unity. We need everyone to look out for other people. It’s good that people are waking up, even people I thought would never wake up to the realization that maga is hurting people.

The ice bootlickers, they try to dehumanize us.

Tapping into that dark side and making that your identity, I can only imagine being like that…but of course I hate fascists. I guess I can understand feeling that way to a degree—if I had all three heads of the regime in a room alone with me for five minutes there wouldn’t be anything left of them. Heh…

I have many sordid/morbid scenes in my head that would be cool for a story or novel!

This is quite something. I like journaling into a microphone at this hour. Feels kind of good talking to myself. When I was a boy in Iowa, some people were like, “Why do you talk to yourself?” I would never have an answer.

Imagine not being able to talk to yourself…having an inner dialogue. I know there are some people like that. Just being pretty scary empty vessels, walking meat suits, or as the kids nowadays call them: NPCs. To me—that is real horror.

But having these conversations into a microphone for this journal, I’m pretty sure that it’s gonna be required because I never know what’s gonna happen tomorrow. Things are crazy. We got a lot of maga bootlickers who probably don’t have any inner dialogue and are empty vessels themselves—sitting on the couch with beers, their first person shooters, and watch Fox News, football and racing, Scott Baio, or Wonder Years, Friends, yelling out why there are so many different colored people on Wheel of Fortune, being intolerable and not wanting to grow because it takes too much effort not to deal with the root of their problems.

So if something happens to me during this fascist shitstorm—at least I’ll have it on record…writing to survive indeed.