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Well, there goes my writer's block.
Dec. 10th, 2006 12:20 pmThe good news: My Yuletide story just cracked a thousand words.
The bad news: Has anybody got a pair of binoculars on hand? Seriously, I can't see the end of the story from here.
Okay, theoretically I could sweep into the ending within another couple thousand words, but doing so AND trying to tie in the prompt that really didn't inspire the story in the first place (but could easily get pulled back into the plot towards the end) would end up slapped together. So basically this is going to be way, waaaaaaay longer than I thought. Not that it's a real problem or anything, since now that I know what the plot is it's coming along at a quite nice pace that should be fairly easy to finish when my weekend starts on this upcoming Wednesday. (Heh ... four-day shifts that make my weekends take up weekdays ROCK.) I've got five more hours to work on it before work, and then I may take tomorrow off of working on it to work on another story I've been wanting to get done for a couple of weeks, and then finish Yuletide, and THEN I can play with the post-"Croatoan" bug that's in my brain.
And somewhere along the line I've got to dive back into The Vampires of Vandling because one of the scenes snuck into my head last night and suddenly the story's plopped down in the middle of my brain and refused to leave. The good news is that I've got a good chunk of it done already so it's really just a matter of filling in the blanks. The Walking Dead of Wilkes-Barre, on the other hand, has more of it written but needs big chunks rewritten because they're kind of a mess and the ending I wrote reminds me too much of the ending I wrote for The Monsters of Moosic. It's not REALLY exact or anything, but it's enough to make me cringe.
In other news that's not me getting all spazzy and dorked-out over writing (heh), I got out of work early last night. Which is both cool and depressing, really, because we were having a hell of a good time making heroin-dealing jokes. For example, I may or may not give off a terrible odor but thanks to the obvious preferences of Crazy Lady I can at least be relieved to know I don't smell like heroin. (On one hand, drug addiction is serious and should be treated as such. On the other hand, finding out that the batshit insane moron who has to work in your crappy factory to pay the bills deals heroin on the weekends? Priceless.)
Next weekend one of my co-workers is turning twenty-one so we're taking him out to a couple of bars, karaoke, and a strip club for his birthday. Considering everyone who's going has been waiting for him to come out of the closet for about a year now, him at the strip club should be a show in and of itself.
The bad news: Has anybody got a pair of binoculars on hand? Seriously, I can't see the end of the story from here.
Okay, theoretically I could sweep into the ending within another couple thousand words, but doing so AND trying to tie in the prompt that really didn't inspire the story in the first place (but could easily get pulled back into the plot towards the end) would end up slapped together. So basically this is going to be way, waaaaaaay longer than I thought. Not that it's a real problem or anything, since now that I know what the plot is it's coming along at a quite nice pace that should be fairly easy to finish when my weekend starts on this upcoming Wednesday. (Heh ... four-day shifts that make my weekends take up weekdays ROCK.) I've got five more hours to work on it before work, and then I may take tomorrow off of working on it to work on another story I've been wanting to get done for a couple of weeks, and then finish Yuletide, and THEN I can play with the post-"Croatoan" bug that's in my brain.
And somewhere along the line I've got to dive back into The Vampires of Vandling because one of the scenes snuck into my head last night and suddenly the story's plopped down in the middle of my brain and refused to leave. The good news is that I've got a good chunk of it done already so it's really just a matter of filling in the blanks. The Walking Dead of Wilkes-Barre, on the other hand, has more of it written but needs big chunks rewritten because they're kind of a mess and the ending I wrote reminds me too much of the ending I wrote for The Monsters of Moosic. It's not REALLY exact or anything, but it's enough to make me cringe.
In other news that's not me getting all spazzy and dorked-out over writing (heh), I got out of work early last night. Which is both cool and depressing, really, because we were having a hell of a good time making heroin-dealing jokes. For example, I may or may not give off a terrible odor but thanks to the obvious preferences of Crazy Lady I can at least be relieved to know I don't smell like heroin. (On one hand, drug addiction is serious and should be treated as such. On the other hand, finding out that the batshit insane moron who has to work in your crappy factory to pay the bills deals heroin on the weekends? Priceless.)
Next weekend one of my co-workers is turning twenty-one so we're taking him out to a couple of bars, karaoke, and a strip club for his birthday. Considering everyone who's going has been waiting for him to come out of the closet for about a year now, him at the strip club should be a show in and of itself.
