April 8, 2013 by musehick
This isn’t even a question, because I am assuming that it happens to all writers at some point – you write something and you wonder where the hell it came from. I am not talking about those outlandish fantasy stories or science fiction stories – I am instead talking about the short pithy poem that gets hacked up like a fishbone stuck in the throat that you never even knew was there. You sit there and you look at it and you recognise the feeling you captured, but you thought you had had the last word on that subject a long time ago.
Anyway, I suppose that is the result of writing to prompts that get you to attack the problem of writing about something from an angle you might not normally approach it from. I have been reading a lot of Salinger, a lot of Hellboy, some Lawrence of Arabia, and some Ayn Rand non-fiction with some David Foster Wallace essays thrown in there … it makes for an interesting salad; throw in some of the emotional weather going on in my head and heart at the moment, and the general malaise in which I exist, and you would have to hope that something intriguing and readable would emerge out of the other end of the sausage machine.
My energy earlier tonight was more than a little sapped and is starting to wind into gear again, so I am aiming to push a few stories forward. Twenty Twenty as an idea is still in effect – I want to simplify my working process and get some of the work that has been hanging around for years like a fart in an elevator aired out. I am going to do it.