The Script & Writing & & &

The Sandpaper Draft of the script I've been working on for more than a year is finally finished. It sucks. When I type it up--who knows--but as is--yeah, it sucks.

I've got so much shit to type up it isn't funny. Like eighteen-to-twenty-five months worth of stuff.

But it's all going to wait.

Got a story rumbling.

A story that's still with me from the Spring.

One I've hinted at earlier here.

"The Storyteller" is its title.

It'll probably be posthumous to see some light (if ever) as all my longer work will be.

Long stuff gets quick nibbles--but the suckerfish out in this big pond make off with the bait and leave me empty-hooked every time.

But I'll return that line like a hundred times before. Watch my bobber like the lead paint of our youths. Or something. Who knows? Maybe I'm just a bad judge.

I don't really care for flash--the flash I ever read leaves me feeling hungry (and I'm fat--FEED ME)--so I turn to poetry. short, quick, and flaky. I can crank out about 100-150 poems a year, more or less. That's 100-150 short-shorts. 100-150 plots.

My fiction has suffered a little because of it--but I think it's mostly the fishing that's frustrated me. Poetry will get hits--the bobber dropping down a foot--even if it comes back up still in the current--and it makes me concentrate harder on revising it rather my fiction. I do the poetry first because it's what's brought me success (what of it I've had). Then, if I feel like it I'll go after my fiction. But I'll tell you--I've got a story (called "The Policy") that has been in its rough stage for probably three years now. I go through revisions (and I think I've revised it in writing three or four times) and when I get to it in the typing queue--something clicks and I just say, "I'll get to it next time." I've even been doing it with my lesser Gatlinburg stories from 2004/2005 that are a part of my novel in stories. Since they don't stand too well on their own, and with the concluding novella still rattling in my head, I end up shelving them when it comes time to type of their revisions. Hopefully this will change.


This submission period has been successful. Seven Acceptances out of Sixty-Three Subs. Still got about twenty out there (awaiting further consideration, lost in in some slot of limbo, rejected without notice) and I've got hopes for more good news.

Just got one more pub coming up in the winter. More speculative such and such.

I'm not sending out this month as I've done since I started sending out. This is usually my Print Sub quarter. Watching my mailbox stick its rusted tongue out at me. But I don't think I really get as much consideration out there in the dead tree side of this life. The response would indicate that in form writing. By the bagful.

But that's the life.


That's this life.


Devour.

Or something, something.


Sooner.





(Even I'm starting forget the Sooner reference. Somewhat.)