Saturday, December 26, 2015

When the calls come in

Recently, and by that I mean literally two minutes into my shift, I picked up the phone at my Place of Tasks and had this exact conversation.

Customer: Hello I was... you... the xbo... les to plug from the TV...
Me: ...
Me: I'm sorry what was that?
Customer: Yeah, I wanted to know if... cables... fo... V... plugs... looks kinda like a... iuo jack...
Me: Umm... ok. Yeah, so if you're looking for Xbox One to TV through HDMI Cables then we have those, but we don't have any Component cables that fit to the Xbox one.
Customer: What?
Me: No, we don't have that.
Customer: Do you even know what I'm looking for?
Me: Honestly... not really.
Customer: [Breathes heavily.] Then why would you just star spouting off.
Me: [nervous chuckle] I just didn't wanna keep saying "what". Thought I could answer your questions.
Customer: What? That's stupid! you pretending to know what your talking about is way more annoying than asking what a couple times.
Me: What?
Customer: I said its way more annoy when you act like you know.
Me: I'm so sorry, you keep cutting out. can you repeat that?
Customer: [slightly louder] I said it's ok to make sure you heard me properly, it's not that annoying.  It's more annoying when you pretend you know something, when you really don't.
Me: I'm just not getting everything your saying. What was that?
Customer [talking slowly, irritdatedly and loudly] I'm just saying, don't pretended like you know something when you don't!
Me: What was that?
Customer: [Now yelling] Don't pretended like you know! It's more annoying than ask-
Me: What?
Me: Was there anything else I can help you with?
Customer: [Click]

T.W. Clawson

Monday, November 30, 2015

This month in tweets

I recently had the pleasure of finishing a novel in 22 days.

It was all do to the challenge of the National Novel Writing Month community and website. While writing, your mind (and by "your" I really mean "my") begins to go in to a bit of creative overload. You can't type fast enough to keep up with your mind, and the words and ideas and images continue to swirl about in your head and soon it feels like you held in a sneeze.

That's where twitter comes in. It gives a writer a moment or two of pause, to check in on other writers, and to maybe let out a little frustration. It allows someone to really say whats one their mind, and maybe get a little recognition for an accomplishment.

Here is the month of November (for the most part) with me tweeting like crazy. Cause in reality I don't tweet very much. So this was a lot, and it was only so I could escape my writing duties, and maybe meet a few writers as I procrastinated. 

November 6th

Nov. 7th

Nov. 9th

Nov. 11th

Nov. 12th

Nov. 14th

Nov. 18th

This says it was on the 19th but it was really a day of writing for the 18th, just at like... 2am...

Nov. 19th

Nov. 20th

Nov. 21st

Nov. 30th

National Novel Writing Month (or Nanowrimo) is a challenge for the month of November to write a 50,000 word novel, in 30 days. I finished at 53,719 words on the 23rd. I'm super excited about the story that I wrote, and will be looking to self publish it on amazon this coming year. If you're interested in Nanowrimo, chech out the site:

It's a lot of work, but so much fun, and such a huge accomplishment. I hope to meet more of my fellow Nano Writers at some point, and encourage everyone to take the challenge. If you wanna follow me on twitter then go here and press follow:

Hope you have a great holiday season!

T.W. Clawson

Saturday, October 31, 2015

A voice in the Shadows

       There was absolutely nothing that was going to keep the two of us in that building! We were screaming with what little breath we had, a stream of cold air condensation trailing behind us. Our hearts beat in anticipation of the shadow behind us reaching forward to pull us back.

As we passed through the lobby of the massive derelict mental facility, a chandelier came crashing down in the dark shadows. Broken glass shattered about the three story entryway, striking out and cutting my leg. Pain shot through my body and shook my bones, though not enough to fight past the adrenaline that drenched my body and charged my legs forward.

The scene that continued to run through my mind was that of the blood pool coursing down the hallway. Then a voice struck out of the hallway a screamed like thunder The darkness spoke out, and we obeyed, bolting like rabbits.

We ran for the safety of the forest road. Our breath behind us as we burst out of the hospital As our endurance ended several hundred feet away from the hospital, we slowed our pace, thinking in retrospection.

            A sudden breath of relief; we looked back at the darkened silhouette of St. Stiles Mental Facility. We walked down the road, beginning to feel safe. Which soon turned into humor and we began nervously chuckling. The screaming voice had been terrifying, and jolted our fears into reality, but it was over and we were safe from the darkness.

“Where was Charlie this whole time?” I asked, finding it still hard to speak, shrouded in cold and terror.

“Probably too scared to show up,” my friend said, trying to laugh as well. Considering who Charlie was, a brave and confident young girl, it would be out of her character to shy away from an adventure like this.

“If she showed up, she probably went in early and got bored.” I said, giving her the benefit of the doubt.

A slight sound that stopped our hearts interrupted us, not much more than a misplaced crack of gravel.  The quiet fall night made the sound of footsteps our only entertainment.  Soon we picked up on it, a walking pattern that differed from our own. It was distant, coming from the building we had just left.

Listening for the sound behind us, soon we turned our heads back. Within the shadow of the building, at its base, walking up the path was a shadow’s movement.  Gravel crushing beneath its feet, it trotted with purpose and direction, right toward us. By the time we could see the outline of the shadow rushing us with deep glowing eyes, we were already moving. A new streak of terror pumped out in our stomachs as launched forward into the night.

The shadows seemed to cling to our clothes. We pushed as hard as we could, no longer screaming, but focused on escape. No longer did we feel safe, no longer would we take the chance to recover, we ran for our lives. Breaking out of the forest, we made it to the car, and without skipping a beat we continued to my house. To the safety of locked doors and bed sheets, we fell asleep with the terror in our minds.

Sleep overtaking us, and despite nightmares chasing us throughout the night, we awoke to a crisp and bright autumn morning. The sunrise brought a sense of silliness. It had all been too real, but in the morning we could see that it was an overreaction. There had been no ghost, no demon, and no evil, only foolish clumsiness and bad timing

I got the paper after it thudded on the door, opening it to a fright that ran my blood cold. The voice that told us to run, the scream that had jumped our nerves and sent us flying; wailing back to me, the blood that ran into the moonlit hallway; running through my mind. As I read on the front page of the paper the most horrifying story.

“Local girl, Charlie Mendez, found dead in abandoned mental hospital.”

Saturday, October 24, 2015

My Portfolio

I know it's really not like any person reading this blog will care,
But here is a portfolio I created for a job I was applying for. I kinda like how it turned out.

Saturday, October 17, 2015


I know that This blog has be come less me writing and more me posting pics and stuff. But the fact is that I spend most of my writing time writing my actual book. Maybe when I get more writing time for myself, I will actually be able to blog constantly. At this point, it's more when times get slow at work.
But here are a few pictures of the book I printed out. The First book in a trilogy, and I will begin querying again in the coming month. But this is a cool post because its an accomplishment. If I wanted to, I could self publish. I have full ability to do so, yet I feel called to traditional publishing. Mostly because I want to work on Christ's time, not my own. If God tells me to self publish, then I will. As it goes now,  I don't feel called to do so, I feel called to continue to write and continue to write I shall.
So here it is. The Split-World: The Inheritance.

Thursday, October 8, 2015

Desperation and Apples

 Today I tried to write something in my book.

I am sick, and groggy and everything I wrote I hate. I just pressed Ctrl + A then pulled the trigger on the life I had breath and committed writing homicide. I kinda feel terrible.
It's most likely cause of being sick. But beyond that I wonder sometimes if its all for not. This is going to be depressing, but that's the kinda mood I'm in right now. I just killed several thousand words of story and now I have to sit here and think about what a waste of day this is.

See, I can only deal with this life, these jobs the lack of security and subtle poverty because I have a goal. But days like this, where I'm reminded that I haven't accomplished anything yet, they are almost unbearable.

I'm not looking for sympathy or pity. I'm just venting.

Here's a comic book cover I did for a story a friend and I have been working on.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Not like a tame Lion...

I Love C.S Lewis.

At least, I love his writing. I never met the guy, so its hard to say that I actually love him, or even like him. But I'm a huge fan of his work and ideas. Narnia being by far his more recognized work, I thought I would do something based of that. This is not a specific scene of any of the Chronicles of Narnia, but rather an image I see in my head.
Hope you like!


Monday, March 16, 2015

Art of the Rising of the Dawn of the Planet of the Apes

I recently watched Dawn of the Planet of the Apes.

Until last December, I kind of refused to see it, cause to be honest... I was scared. I'm just uneasy with apes and monkeys and what not, but after listening to my little brother go on and on and on...

and on... about it, I decided to give it a try. So now I get it, its a great movie. here is some art I did inspired by the new movies. Hope you like.

Why... you?

I have recently been talking with a friend of mine about my future as a writer.  

 I was hit with a pretty bad blow to my ego a few weeks ago, and then as I lay on the floor recuperating in mental health and self esteem, I was (and still am) continually sucker punched by life.
To feel the pain of a gut wrenching attack from life is a lot like a really gut wrenching attack from a fist. The sudden impact of life forcing itself from the external, into the internal causes a shock that is universally recognized as unpleasant. Vibrations in the body cause the brain to shift, which it does not like to do, putting the body as risk of shutting down. This is blacking out, its the effect of causing the blood in the brain to, either, rush out or rush in very quickly.

But this blow is good for me, I just know it.
At least, I hope I know it.

I know that overall my life isn't that bad, but there are things that I grasp onto in order to tell myself how terrible life is. And I have to wonder sometimes, why do I hold on to these things? Is it pessimism? Is it a hope that if I can prove my life is worst than anyone else, that I might get a pass for doing nothing with it? I think We as a human species, see the opportunity to get a hall pass on life, and we strive for it.
If I can make everyone see that; I work endlessly, have no friends, my body is betraying me, God has no interest in me, and I'm a pretty useless person, then maybe, just maybe I could... Could... I... I... I dunno...

Now that I look at my life, and I see the patterns that arise from the ashes of turmoil, I see that I have put myself in this place. The dreaded an depressed. I have always fought to prove my self more righteous in the darkness. "My Parents are divorced! I Broke my arm (twice)! I have allergies, and Asthma, You don't know the meaning of suffering, only I do!" If I could yell that as loudly as possible, then maybe someone would take notice, take pity, and help me.

But here's the thing, I see now, that mentality, of always thinking I have it worst off, and competing with others to prove it, has actually made me the saddest person I know. I now look up from the Bottom of the barrel, after fighting so hard to be the one down here. I have pushed myself down, and in order to feel better about myself, I have kept myself from feeling better!

How messed up is that?

Now to get back to what I was saying a moment ago. I am the worst!

Honestly though, you have probably read through this once and seen a thousand grammatical errors, or spelling mistakes, while I read through this several times looking for that stuff and I still can't catch it all. When It comes to writing, I'm kinda the worst.

How ironic it is, that I want to be a novelist, a comic book writer, a TV show creator, comedian, actor, director, ect... ect... ect...  These things take skill in grammar, words and and understanding of the English language that I just don't have, in order to preform. I am at the bottom of the barrel when it comes to talent in writing, so why do I even try?

Two reasons. The first being that I love it. I always have. I love sitting down with a blank page on the monitor and filling it with words, hoping to read it back and hear something like a melodious tune. I love playing with words, trying the sounds, and hearing my lexicon expand with a new locution. Since I was a kid, I loved sitting down and spending some time with words. Not that we are great friends or anything, I just have an appreciation for them. It like when you go to a birthday party for a kid that your sibling is friends with. They are not your friend, they are friends with someone you are close to, so you see a lot of each other, but your happy the are there so you can go and get some cake...

The second reason for wanting to peruse being a writer and all that junk, is because I'm a good storyteller, and speaker. And this isn't like, "oh, I'm so good, I'm better than everyone." sort of things, I just know what I'm good at, and telling stories and getting people wrapped up in their own imagination is something I'm good at. And I love to do it.

I love to make people feel emotion, that's the goal of everything. I want people to feel what others have felt, and experience what others have experienced. Close their eyes and see what I can see. That, Imagination, is a gift from God. and I want to share that with everyone. Its what Worship pastors do, when they sing a song to bring people to tears, or a preacher does when they light a fire of the Holy Spirit in people. It's what councilors do, when they help sooth and heal, its what teachers do, when they help people realize an idea that might have been bizarre to them at first.

Ok. I'm almost done.
What I'm saying there, is that I have a Gift, imagination. and I want to share it with you all, and with the whole world. I'm going to do that by writing and telling, preaching and singing and acting and worshiping and praying and producing and any other way I possibly can. I'm going to over come this struggle of mine, and I will live a life that is not going to read "Worst life in the world is finally over!" but rather "Guy did something!"

We need to stop trying to pull ourselves down, so we can prove how terrible our life is. We need to, instead, rise ourselves up in our own eyes, so we can grab a hold of life and the people around us, and help everyone a little. Cause there is nothing better than helping everyone around you... except maybe Orange Chicken...

T.W. Clawson


Thursday, February 19, 2015

Finished... kinda

So I "finished" my first book.
I use quotation marks, because I'm no where near done. I still have a long road ahead of me, but it's an exciting one. One that I seem to be able to see the end off, but need to actually walk down. It's an odd feeling, seeing yourself in a place that your body does not yet occupy.
I am constantly talking to the people around me, people I would call friends but they may have a different term for me, about the future and my dreams. I see myself being a novelist, a producer, director, entrepreneur, an artist and comedian and even an actor. I see myself speaking to thousands of people all over the world and making a difference in the lives of "fans" everywhere.
But how do I get there, how do I make myself someone that people want to know, and talk to and listen to. It's a really kindling kind of thought process. Being conscious of the decision to become more. To be worth more.

That is that I don't believe I am worth anybody's time right now. I am constantly indebted to to those to who seem to want to take time out of their life to spend with me. Its like being a homeless person and receiving money for sitting on the sidewalk. I do nothing for these people, and out of the compassion of their hearts they throw money in my hat.
So what is it that I must do to feel a sense of worth? Write a book? Get it published? Have a random person interview me? Have a movie made from a story? Go on Conan? Host SNL? Become the president of DC (and fix the whole dern company!)?
These are goals, these are achievements, but do they really add to my self worth? Lets say that I do achieve one of my goals, and I make it to comic con on a panel, that people come to see and ask me questions about my work... lets say I achieve some minor success of fame... what does that add?
Does that make me a nicer guy? does it further The Kingdom of Christ? Will it make my woman love me more?


This is my point. I believe I will never truly be worth anyone's time, quiet the opposite. That I will be blessed by every single person I ever meet and talk with. Think about it, would you rather think yourself better than the world, knowing that they always owe you for being around them and never getting what your owed, inevitably being let down? Or would you want to feel as though you are given a gift with every conversation you had, and filled just to be in the presence of people who like you?

I choose the Ladder! (latter)

But while I don't feel that I am really worth it, I have a hope that I can help people. So I choose to work at writing and start making myself a better person. Someone that won't leave with a bad taste in their mouth after talking to me. I want people to see the light that I have, and to be willing to follow me down this road I travel on.
I'm going to finish this book. I am done with the a ton of editing. I have given the current book out to several people to read and tell me what they think. While I read through it again, I await their critiques, hoping that it will all be good in the end.
I have compiled a list of Agents and Publishers, looking for those that might be interested in my work and am sending it out to them for representation. 
I don't know how long I will be querying, but I know that I have to go through this to get down the road. Soon I will be signing my books and answering questions from nervous kids who just want a chance to talk to me. I hope to look at them with a smile and tell them.
Thanks, your the reason why I write.
T.W. Clawson

Friday, January 23, 2015

Click Bait, Hoo ha ha!

 Why would you actually click on this? Why? Its just an attempt to get more views.
But while your here... Check out some of my other posts...

Seriously though, I find it ridiculous how much people are willing to give into the Click bait and look at these "amazing" stories. We need to strive for sustenance.For truth and for things that make us better people. Not better entertained people. I really do hope you enjoy my other posts. I hope too, to do more soon.