Cue the calliope music; I signed up for the Beautiful Freaks Fest. Watch to see if I drop the ball, plates, chainsaws, my brain, or what ever it is that makes me think I am a writer. I’ll be posting free content for three days this weekend. The plan is a combo of story telling, pics of fiber arts, and bad poetry. I’m not ready (this weekend wasn’t productive in that way) but I’m trying to play catch up this week.
I’m also stalled out on the horror short story. I haven’t been able to sit down for it for four days, despite getting a first reader to read the first half and tell me I was pointed in the right direction. I KNOW the direction, and this is the second draft, so it should be just a matter of sitting in the chair and typing, but there seems to be a block. There is also the issue of almost five thousand words and being only half way through. I’m pushing the envelope of short story word length. We’ll see how that plays out.
Happy writing, and I’ll see you this weekend!
Revision of the short story is going slow. I can only manage one scene per morning, no matter how much time I actually have to write. Also, WTF is with only able to write in the morning? I used to be able to write any time of day. Now, my brain seems to be fried baloney by noon and I end up on social media, or reading emails and blogs.
AND the story I liked and thought I had a pretty good handle on? The revision is bigly different, and much better, I think. I don’t know. Crap!
Sorry if this is all tedious to you. Since I am only in my fourth year of writing seriously, with expected results and an eye toward publishing, I seem to be struggling with my methods. I know that each story requires different things, but GEEEZZZ!
On top of all that, and a busy week at the day job, an online writing fest has caught my eye. Another un-paid Horror gig, but you have to get your name out there, right? Right? Fortune favors the bold? Anything less feels like standing still. I’m not sure how I can pull together something good in less than two weeks, let alone scary, but I can’t stop thinking about it.
Seriously, what is with me writing Horror all the sudden? I gave up reading it in my twenties because I like to sleep at night. Maybe writing it won’t have the same effect, but can I really expect to produce good work if I’m not reading the genre? A lot of the on-line writer friends I’ve made are horror writers, and I need to read and review their work to help support them. I foresee a lot of sleeping with the lights on in my future.
Either way, I think I’m about to get too many plates in the air, spinning all at once. Listen for the crash!
Let me go find something useful to do, instead of all this angsty writer feels.