July 13, 2012 by musehick
As well as going through old stories and dusting them off and getting them hurtling towards their end; as well as editing the books which are finished and waiting to be fully delivered into the world; I am also going through and activating all the random titles which I vouchsafed for future use and never used: stephen hawking is terminal is one, and baby without a brain is another. They are titles which I picked because they have a combination of shock value, elasticity and total randomity.
I like rotating through several worlds in a day as I write – it makes me feel like an explorer, and I know that I am venturing into unique headspaces each time I pick a new site to write for. A lot of what I am turning out at the moment has a sci-fi bent but I feel like each thing has its own flavour, and the flavours are getting more mixed up and wild as I go along. But you know the cool thing about all of them? The cement that holds every single world that I write about together, at least in my own eyes? It is my love of story telling. Telling a tale has to be the base of all of this, no matter all the fancy curlicues and the fireworks, if I am not taking someone from point a to point b in an entertaining fashion and maybe throwing some light on some things they hadn’t thought about, then I haven’t done my job.
Writers who disappear up their own arseholes are no use to anyone. That is the cardinal rule you should always live by – if it feels like you are skirting around your own rectum like an intellectual enema then pull your head out of your bunghole and go back to the drawing board.