I was this close the other week (see how close I’m holding my index finger and thumb here? That’s very close, it really is) to calling time on a story and consigning it to the Crematorium forevermore. It’s an old story (not a trunk story, just old) that I’ve recently spruced up with a little spit and polish. Like most stories, it gathered a rejection or two, but I’m happy to say it’s since been picked up by Cindy Rosmus at Yellow Mama.
It’s a pretty dark tale and fittingly enough it’s slated for the Halloween issue. Fantastic acceptance letter too, so I couldn’t have asked for more. A big thanks here to Cindy, by the way.
So, to get back to the point, why was I so close to slamming the door and lighting the fire on this one? The thing is, it’s a weird story, a very weird story, and I really don’t know where it came from. I was starting to think maybe it was a little too weird and that maybe I should retire it, especially as it doesn’t necessarily fit in with my normal style – if I even have one, that is.
That being said, it’s a story I wanted to tell, a story that has its own merits, its own failings and I’m glad it’s found a home.
It would have burned to dust and ash kicking and screaming anyway.
Monday, 16 March 2009 Lazing
OK, I hold my hands up and admit it: I’m obviously a lazy blogger. I think it’s been more or less two weeks since my last post, but then it has been pretty quiet around here and there’s not an awful lot to report.
I’m still writing, still submitting, so it’s not all bad I guess. Not as much as I'd like to though, I must admit and I'm feeling more than a little guilty about that. I think I need one those Twilight Zone stopwatches that really does stop time, but then I guess we all do these days.
I’ve had one or two responses in the past couple of weeks. No good news though, unfortunately. Hopefully the next round of submissions will bring better luck. I’m keeping my fingers crossed and sending out those good vibes, so you never know.
I’m still writing, still submitting, so it’s not all bad I guess. Not as much as I'd like to though, I must admit and I'm feeling more than a little guilty about that. I think I need one those Twilight Zone stopwatches that really does stop time, but then I guess we all do these days.
I’ve had one or two responses in the past couple of weeks. No good news though, unfortunately. Hopefully the next round of submissions will bring better luck. I’m keeping my fingers crossed and sending out those good vibes, so you never know.
Tuesday, 3 March 2009 Bad Habit
I’m sure I have many (bad habits, that is) but I’m talking here about a bad writing habit I seem to have developed just recently. Pretty common I'm sure, but here goes: I have tendency to be tapping along quite happily with a story, when another idea raises its ugly little roguish head. I think about it for a while and then return to the original tale while the rogue idea recedes harmlessly into the background.
Come the next writing session though, that little rogue has bugged me so much throughout the day with its seedy little whisper and its impish nods of encouragement, that I have to get some of it out of my head and on to the screen. Fair enough; write it while it’s fresh, I guess.
But then, the inevitable happens and another idea ploughs its way to the surface, and another, and another until I’m working on Lord knows how many different versions of how many different tales all vying to be heard. Rogues, I tell you, the lot of them.
So, which little voice do I listen to? Right now, it’s all of them, which probably explains why I haven’t written the words ‘The End’ for a while.
Come the next writing session though, that little rogue has bugged me so much throughout the day with its seedy little whisper and its impish nods of encouragement, that I have to get some of it out of my head and on to the screen. Fair enough; write it while it’s fresh, I guess.
But then, the inevitable happens and another idea ploughs its way to the surface, and another, and another until I’m working on Lord knows how many different versions of how many different tales all vying to be heard. Rogues, I tell you, the lot of them.
So, which little voice do I listen to? Right now, it’s all of them, which probably explains why I haven’t written the words ‘The End’ for a while.
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