It’s the book that refuses to allow me to type “the end.” To be honest, it’s nowhere near ready for that, but it’s been around since 2013. I keep going back to it. I’ve used it for NaNoWriMo twice by pretty much wiping out the original content and starting it from scratch. It has parts…
No, I haven’t dropped off the planet — at least not yet, thought I can’t say the thought isn’t tempting. The last year, or even year and a half, has been … strange. To go into detail would be boring and self-indulgent, so I won’t. My fiction writing, though, has suffered; to that much I…
Then, this evening, I was washing dishes. Suddenly, there was a story knocking at the inside of my brain. It wasn’t just the bare concept of a story, but actually had the rudiments of a plot, some interesting characters, a conflict, potential danger…. It wasn’t enough to be a full-grown book, but what book starts out fully grown?
Some days, the words flow freely. You hit that goal mark effortlessly, and float away from the keyboard to bask in the literary sun.
Others, every darned word takes a sump pump to extract, You stare at the screen for hours, and that word count just won’t reach 1,667 no matter how you plead.
Today’s somewhere in between, but close enough to the latter that I needed to take a break before jumping back in to take another lap.
Black dogs. They have held a place in the human psyche throughout history. In some cultures, they were demonic, beings to be avoided. They were omens of death and evil. The most famous literary depiction of this black dog as evil concept is probably Conan-Doyle’s Hound of the Baskervilles. Well, the most famous, that is, until J.K. Rowling capitalized on the concept with Harry Potter’s “Grim”.