My mom (and brother… and friends…) won’t be happy with me.
I have been working on a long story for about two and a half years now. (For comparison, the previous story took me only a year and a half to finish the first draft – but that’s another story….) I know where the plotline is heading. I know the main characters, and how they’ll react to upcoming events. I even have some idea of what happens between Plot Point A and Plot Point B.
What’s the trouble? you ask – you have to ask? I’m a writer. I like instant gratification as much as the next Crafter. And, next to long stories, short stories are instant.
That’s right. I’ve fallen into a death trap of short stories. I have more in progress than I care to count. I just finished one a week or two ago – and a very nice Shiny New Toy it was, too.
And so this morning, as I tried to focus on the Next Scene in my current story (or What To Fix with the other one), is it much of a surprise that another Shiny New Toy popped into my head?
It’s not very new, mind. I’ve had it kicking around since September. But this morning, it began kicking and screaming like a maniac, scaring all my other story ideas away. I kept trying to focus on my Long Stories, but this one is very insistent.
Family and Friends, consider yourselves warned. I shall endeavor to resist – but this feels like a battle that’s over before before it’s truly begun. I shall bring the Long Story with me tomorrow, but I have a sneaking suspicion that I’ll be spending far more time with a Beauty… a Beast… a Grudge… and a Faraway Land.
Sorry Family. I tried.