On Life as a Sarcastic Fringehead

Well, here it is. A fork in my road of procrastination. I read through each journal last night and confirmed that I don't have enough decent story frags to post in this space. I found rejection letters from university fiction journals taped to some pages, so there are works of mine that, by this time, have been recycled into those Earth-friendly gift bags at the dollar store. I don't even remember what those stories may have been. I ran across a few titles and I think I was handing out printed copies as gifts at some point like they were batches of chocolate chip cookies or something. Whatever they were, I no longer have written recordings of them. They no longer exist and that's probably a good thing because that brings me back into the present day.

Time to start working on Stillwater Crowe. Since I feel obligated to keep this promise to myself to write in this space daily, and I am out of ancient writings to post, it looks like I'd better get going on my current characters.

I have a bad habit of introducing characters and prematurely moving the plot along before developing any of them. Then, the story is over because whatever was in my head never actually made it on to the paper. Character and plot development, for me anyway, is a long process. My brain jumps back and forth and over and under and, combined with the kicker that it's hard for me to think anyone is actually interested in what I'm writing, I undermine the process by taking shortcuts. There's my confession. Now that I've admitted this, perhaps I'll commit to being patient and working daily even when I hit a rough spot.

Work with me, people.