So, I wrote this novel. And I made an editing pass of this novel. And I gave it to three people to read, and made another editing pass. I’m entering my edits (I made them by hand) and re-writing here and there so it can go to the next readers.
So, I outlined this novel. Completely different from the first. I have character outlines, entire plot, locations researched, and at least a first chapter done. I’m dying to get back to it.
So, I had a stupid idea for a cringe-worthy joke short story about Pegleg Romance, or Pegmance. Pegmance became an idea for a full length romance novel about love and true beauty, now with an entire cast of characters, full plot, and is ready to be outlined in depth. I’m ready to write this sucker.
So, I’ve written multiple short stories. One was submitted to Fireside. One is going to be sent over to another publication for consideration, pending a little touch-up from me. One is a noir-style fan fiction containing the assigned elements of Mario Universe, Dinosaurs, Clowns, and Bangin’, called Lev Neg-1 that I wrote for a friend’s show. The rest are shorts all playing off a similar idea for a project I have in mind.
Today, I realized that I have a mystery sweatshirt in my house. Everyone who has stayed in the guest bedroom ever has denied ownership, and nobody has any clue where it came from. So I wore it for a while. While I got ready for bed, all I could think about was what kind of horror story could come out of that.
When I started writing, I was mad that nobody had ever told me how fun it is. Now I’m just pissed because nobody warned me that it was addictive.