I remember saying, at some point, that I was going to start posting twice a week here. That doesn’t seem to have worked out. I’ll need to put some thought into that.
Now, regarding Fugitives from Earth. I got to within about four scenes of the end and just couldn’t continue. Sound familiar? Turns out that concluding plots, whether the main one or just a subplot, is hard business. This time, though, I’m backing up far, far toward the beginning of the story.
My plan always was to print the second draft off and read it as a reader would, in the hopes that it would make the progression of the plot, and the problems with that progression, a little more clear to me. The only thing I’m doing differently now is not actually writing those last few scenes before changing them. Everything should be a little more tidy that way.
It’s funny how my motivation vacillates between extreme enthusiasm and utter ennui based on how good my story is. To be creative is to be prone to a certain degree of mental strangeness, I suppose, but that doesn’t make it any more fun. It’s not as though I’m some neo-Bohemian channeling my personal psychosis into timeless prose; I just want to tell stories. I can do without my own brain fighting me.
As long as I don’t develop fatal alcoholism, though, fair’s fair.
Another reminder: the Northwest Independent Writer’s Association is accepting open submissions for their first annual short story collection. I’ve submitted mine; don’t you think you should do the same?