So, I’m trying to write this first story, and I’ve come to a grinding halt, but it’s not for lack of ideas. the bastard thing keeps reforming as I watch. Is it a romance, is it a Heinlein-esque pulp space story? Is it, as it keeps trying to be, something not out of place in fabulous and very pulpy Heavy Metal magazine, complete with tits, guns and very rusty machinery in space?
All I know is, I want robots, a conspiracy involving a pleasure droid, and a payoff involving love denied and being abandoned on a dusty planetoid. Now all I need to do is focus on that, and I can come to the end of the story.
It’s nearly Christmas now, and what I want to do is read. But if I don’t write this very soon, I think I’m going to burst. Very unpleasant. Perhaps writing a story a week was a bit optimistic. I’m thinking more, every month – or two – until my third eye gets used to the daylight. Yeah, it’s a third eye that lets us see these stories, although I think it’s more like a sort of perfect balancing act between the two warring sides of the brain. If it clicks, both are happy, one side working on the art and characters, the other making sure the story actually makes a pleasing sense and that all your punctuation is in the right place.
So, not at work now for quite a few days. Surely that’s a push right there?
Writing, now, off to Asteroid K-DIC I go.