I shocked myself the other night. For months I have been wondering if I had another story of any length in me. Even a taut, bare bones and stretched paragraph would've been a start. Something humorous; something that would get me thinking.
Several ideas had perculated to the surface, but none had stood the test of typing. The process by which the smokey mass of electronically impulsed details is funneled down into words, sentences and scenes through my fingers and keyboard.
The other night while out walking it came to me. And last evening it was still there. Hanging with possibility. It's mostly dialogue. Will it truly work? Only time will tell. It would be nice to get it published.
But let's not put the literary magazine before the pen.
1 comment:
Go for it!
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