Wow, how strange my mind works. Yes, I’ve been working on the edits of my story which I finished just last week, but for some strange reason I’ve been wanting to write . . ..
Last night wasn’t that time, however. I was depressed over–lets just say I had something bothering me (short version: a conversation I had with an idiot) and I was finding it difficult to put aside. But before going to bed I had a short chat with one of my many Internet friends, decided the hell with what was bothering me and went to bed in a better mood.
And when I woke I wanted to do something–
SciFi Ideas is a site dedicated to offering ideas to writers of speculative fiction and gamers, and this week they are doing aliens, because everyone loves aliens, even when they want to rip your face off and wear it into a local convenience store. I did a short piece on an alien from a piece of classic science fiction (’cause you kids need to put down the controllers and respect your elders), but yesterday I was taken with the idea of doing another piece . . . another larger piece.
What the piece is I’m not saying; if it is published you’ll just have to mosey over to SciFi Ideas and read it for yourself. All I will say is that it’s a long piece–a little over 2000 words. And I knocked it out this morning–if you consider “knocked out” to have happened over a 2 hours span of time. Either way, it made me happy to write the piece, if for no other reason I can dig into something that I’ve enjoyed for well on 45 years now, and perhaps infect others with the same feeling.
I’ve been this way of late. The writing is getting easier; the ideas come and don’t want to go. Yeah, the edits are a pain, and I will get to them this morning, but one thing I’ve noticed about my story: I’m seeing all the things my first draft missed, and I’m not only making the story tighter, but I’m making it better. All because I’ve a much better eye for what I’m now doing.
These days I feel like I’m doing something with my writing. Time will tell.
But it really doesn’t matter, does it? As Liz Parker once said, “But at least my heart is open, and I’m writing again. I’m feeling. I’m breathing.”
Sometimes, that’s all that’s needed.