Random Offenses

Last night, I finished a nearly 12,000 word story. Almost 20 full pages of text.

I now find myself in a refractory period. I want to write. I just . . . words fail me.

They always fail me. When I need them most! They're never around when I need them!

Besides, have to go babysit for days on end tonight, so I won't be able to get any work done, anyway.

Now I have to find people willing to read my story and give me praise constructive criticism so that in 4-6 weeks, when I subject myself to the piece again, I can have a less prejudiced view of it. I think it reaches 80% of what I wanted it to do. If it reached 100% of what I wanted it to do, it could have easily been ten times the size. Since most people seem to regret an inability to get a third of what they set out to do, I'm not complaining.

(That mindset is one I cannot understand, though. If I set out to write a story, and it turns out to be less than half what I wanted, I'd be a jibbering lunatic. I demand at least three-quarters of my intention to be reflected in the final story. Maybe that's why I write so slowly . . .)

Other things on my to-write list include the rest of a fanfic I've been writing since 2000 (yeah, I told you I write slowly), a revision to a story I started about a year ago or so, and the rest of my writing career, of course.

Aaron "The Mad Whitaker" Bourque