#68 — A Typical Day in the Dillon Empire

The horrible result of foolishly responding to a writing prompt. Let it act as a warning to others, lest they likewise fall to darkness.

A while ago, someone started a writing prompt encouraging authors to pen pieces on their typical writing days. The identity of the individual responsible is lost in the mists of time. I didn’t respond because: 1) It sounded boring, 2) I didn’t wish to participate, and 3) I generally don’t bite on writing prompts in any case. The Dillon Empire forges its own path and doesn’t need “prompts” muddying the waters of its incessant film reviews, rants, short stories, and so forth.

However, the blame for this article lies at the feet of Smillew Rahcuef, and his art installation-style desire to create a Medium publication of exactly 100 Stories, with one story per writer. When asked to participate, I foolishly said yes, caught off guard in an inexplicably agreeable mood. Since the Dillon Empire does not renege on its commitments, I tried to puzzle out the subject matter of this piece. It had to be different from my usual output, but how?

Then it hit me: Why not provide a spin on the typical writing day prompt? My working days are as dull and uninteresting to read about as any other writer, but what if I weaved in falsehood, seeing if the reader could spot the lies? The falsehoods would have to be subtle, plausible, difficult to discern, and I think I’ve managed to do that. Only those possessed of Holmesian skills of deduction will be able to separate fact from fiction in what follows.

06:00 — Awaken from prophetic dream warning of horrors under the reign of the Antichrist. Scribble down salient points before I forget them: A world without cinemas and physical media but only streaming services. If that doesn’t put the fear of God in you, I don’t know what will.

06:05 — After bidding farewell to my eldest (currently taking a pre-university year out working unpleasantly early start factory/warehouse jobs), I go for a run. My running route includes a path through a woodland. I keep to the path, knowing the giant spiders will scuttle down out of the trees and attack if I don’t.

06:30 — I take a shower then awaken my youngest, whose school morning routine must be strictly adhered to (he’s diagnosed with autism). Before rushing downstairs to make breakfast, I make sure he is properly awake by insisting on a “sustained open eye of at least ten seconds”. The whole “sustained open eye” thing is a riff on the British Board of Film Classification’s somewhat nannying consumer advice for films (for instance: “contains sustained peril”).

07:00 — I make breakfast. My wife then takes over my youngest’s morning routine, though sometimes I take him to school, depending on her work schedule. This is really boring to read, isn’t it? No wonder I didn’t want to write one of these day-in-the-life things.

I also converse with the voices in my head, that have awoken by this point. They pester me regarding my current fiction project. Here’s a sample of my internal dialogue:

Voices in Head: We’ve got some great dialogue. Write it down now before you forget it.

Me: Form an orderly queue and wait your turn. I’m busy getting breakfast.

Voices in Head: Since when have we ever been orderly, about anything? We’ll talk to you whenever we damn well please. Don’t start believing you’re the boss of us. You’re not. You will write down everything we say, when we say, and you will apologise for getting ideas above your station. Do you understand?

Me: Yes, of course. Sorry.

07:30 — Having had a cup of tea, I undertake what is always the first task of the day: Write at least 1,000 words, ideally more, of my current work in progress. This is typically a novel or short story. Alternatively, I spend equivalent time rewriting or editing a previously written manuscript. It is vital this work is undertaken before checking emails, messages, social media, the news, and the internet in general.

08:30 — If it’s a good day (and let’s say for the sake of argument it is), I’ll have 1,000 words written by this point. Afterwards, I typically write an article for Medium, an article for my blog, or an article for Patreon. I continue to ignore messages, social media, the internet, and so on.

09:30 — Assuming this article is something relatively straightforward like a film review, and not something more involved, I’m generally finished with it by now. I then go on to undertake the usual jiggery-pokery of finding accompanying photographs, presentation in general, and adding it to the pile of prepared articles. I’m typically three weeks ahead of myself in Medium, working from a two-month in-advance plan, new release film reviews notwithstanding.

10:30 — Once I finish the above tasks, I undertake various menial household cleaning tasks. Or perhaps I deal with shopping deliveries, plan the evening meal, and so on. If my wife is present, we might nip out for an impromptu “second breakfast” in true Hobbit style. This is getting boring again, isn’t it?

11:30 — Only after all of this do I start to look at emails, messages, social media, and so on. Of these, I generally prioritise messages from friends, family, and (on the delightful occasions when I get them) responses from literary agents who actually want to read the whole novel manuscript rather than immediately pass on representation.

12:00 — Around noon, I start reading Medium articles by other writers. I typically read, highlight, and comment on six to twelve articles per day. Afterwards, I go through responses to comments and reply to almost all of them. Hang on, what’s that in the sky?

12:30 — A portal to another dimension has opened in the skies above my house. What I assume are alien flying saucers are passing through into our universe. They zig and zag around the clouds, defying the laws of physics. I take some photographs and consider posting them online. But loads of other people got there before me. Also, no one seems to care. In the wake of recently declassified documentation of UFOs (or UAPs as we now have to call them), aliens are “passe”, and people would much rather read the latest professionally offended outrage on TwitTok.

13:00 — After a tasty bovine and mustard sandwich, served with a side dish of edible foliage, I feel rather stuffed. Time for some offline reading.

14:00 — The interdimensional UAPs have returned. A few of my neighbours have been abducted. Their muffled screams are getting quite annoying, as I’m trying to concentrate on my reading. Also, the voices in my head are back, demanding I return to my work-in-progress short story. It’s all a bit noisy, inside and outside my head.

14:55 — Military strikes have been called in to try and engage the UAPs. It’s noisier than ever. I really cannot concentrate in this racket. Also, it’s time to pick up my youngest from school. The traffic on the road has not been helped by the alien incursion.

15:30 — Back home, I watch an episode of Breaking Bad on Netflix with my youngest (we’re nearing the end of series five, and are thoroughly enjoying it).

16:30 — My wife arrives home from work. Some of her colleagues were abducted by the aliens, which means she’s had a lot of irritating extra tasks in their absence. My eldest also returns. Both are exhausted after a day of actual hard work, as opposed to my rather clichéd struggling artist routine.

I carry on with various writing-related tasks, still struggling to concentrate amid the yelling of the voices in my head, the sound of aircraft and flying saucers in aerial combat, the screaming and hysteria accompanying the looting, rioting, and general panic outside, and the incessant barking of my next-door neighbour’s dog.

18:30 — Dinner. Let’s say curry. I like curry.

19:30 — I head off to the cinema, surprised it is still open despite today’s outbreak of interdimensional war. Apparently, the Prime Minister is going to address the nation, but I’d rather see a film than listen to all that we-must-all-pull-together drivel. I wouldn’t be surprised if they started the fight with the aliens as a ploy to get back up in the opinion polls.

22:30 — After the film, I emerge from the cinema to discover the planet has been conquered by aliens. Humans are now subjects of Zargok, dread ruler of Titan in another dimension. Then I realise Zargok exists in one of my own stories. Quite a coincidence to find the character is real. Earth is now under his rule, so that’s the end of human civilisation as we know it.

23:00 — Go home and go to bed. Just another typical day in the Dillon Empire.

I bet you’re struggling to tell what is real and what isn’t from the above account. But go ahead and comment with your theories. As plausible as it all sounds, there’s at least one lie. It only remains for me to thank Gunner Barrett. This article is either a homage to his singular style or else a second-rate, timid, shamelessly derivative imitation.

If you enjoyed this article, please consider supporting my writing on Patreon or Ko-fi. You can also offer a tip via Paypal (see tip button below). Alternatively, if you want unlimited access to my writing on Medium (and that of many other talented writers), click here to upgrade to full Medium membership. This is an affiliate link. I receive financial incentives for new referrals, so that’s another hugely helpful support to me. Thank you.

For more about me and my writing on Medium, please click here. For information on my writing outside Medium, please click here. For a list of my published novels and other works, please click here.