Read about the 52 project.
(Hint, it’s cool.)
Before you read number 26, read number 21, and before you read number 21, read number 4. Yes, the rules state that each week’s output must be a complete story in its own right, and you could argue that I have pushed the limits a bit, but the story taking place here is bigger than I anticipated and I think the integrity of the story and its universe is a bit more important to me than my arbitrary self-imposed rules. Sure, as stand alone stories, 21 and 26 leave something to be desired, but the rules don’t state they have to be good stand alone stories. Think of them as stand alone stories that just happen to end in cliffhangers.
Number 27 will wrap up the story started in 21, though of course you could read it by itself if you really want to.
Welcome to the halfway point.
One of the problems with the Blog posting format is that the most recent stories are up here on the front page while the first couple of weeks are hidden away. That’s sad, because some of the first were some of my favorites. Check out number 2, number 1 and number 4 for some of my favorites. If you liked “A beautiful Knee” then number 4 is required reading.
Thanks for all the recent feedback, that’s what keeps me writing and inspires me to write better, plot harder, and type faster.
Number 14 was short and silly, because it has been a rough week. Next week, however, is Vacation, which means there will either be an extra big spectacular story, or an ever shorter and sillier one.
As I have noted on a number of stories so far, time constraints have kept me from fleshing them out into the masterpieces I had in mind when I started. I am considering reposting selected stories with more complete and polished prose. These will happen as I find time, and with stories I felt especially disspointed in – but if you have any particular story you’d like to see rescued from the devestation of last-minute authorship, please let me know in the comments or in email, and I’ll see what I can do.
Number 7 posted today at 11:05 AM. Did I fail my self-imposed task? Well, I did finish the story before midnight, and you can tell from the last page or so that I was pressing the deadline. But the coffee shop (free wifi!) network did not let me connect, and I could not post. I also could not post when I got to the house in which I was staying for the night, because they have no internet connection at all.So here I am, in another coffee shop, posting late, my tail between my legs.
As usual, scheduling is my demon, and fight it I must. I cannot use the lack of internet as excuse for not posting on time – I should have had the story done well before the last minute, should have planned more time to write, should have planned my internet connection ahead of time. Shoulda. Didn’t.
So what happens when the story just won’t come? When days go by and every sentence seems to want to crawl back off the page and hide? When the great idea you had now looks pale and flaccid from every angle? What happens when the story just isn’t there and you only have a few hours before you have to post?
Obviously you write an epic poem. Well, ok, it’s not really epic. I think you have to have at least three volumes to call it epic, but it sure beats that dirty limerick I’ve had kicking around in my head all week.
It is too early still to apologise for number 3? I have got to get better at finding time to write. I think it’s pretty clear this one was not all it could have been, and the main culprit is finding uninterrupted hours to work in.
Oh well, you get kicked in the balls and you keep on walking…
#2 is my first 1-week story, completed in the seven days since #1. I was sick for about 5 of those days (still have a nagging cough), and you can tell this one was finished up in a bit of a hurry. I’ll edit it very slightly now that it is posted – typos and punctuation only, no changes to the actual story.
Road, meet Rubber, Rubber, this is that Road I’ve been telling you about.
I promise the next one will be better.
Electrons and Yellowstone National Park both struggle with a similar problem. By observation, the thing you wish to observe is changed.
I was struck while reading something in which a character considers traveling to several different cultures, to experience their unique characteristics. He was visiting localized cultures, physical land areas in which the people live in a certain way, with specific traditions and behaviors. This character also lives in a future of instantaneous travel from one point to another, across dozens of worlds – all of these cultures he visits exists in a framework where every other culture is easily available. We have a similar situation here and now in the real world. More and more, the artifacts, ideas, music and food of distant localities is available to us. Right here in Oregon, I can buy sushi, durian fruit, brie, Ethiopian coffee, and lichee flavored Chinese black tea. Immigrants have brought with them the flavors of their old world, and commerce takes care of the rest.
It’s a common phenomenon, I think, to find the creative muse hiding behind rocks whenever you get away from your computer. I find myself composing excellent fiction as I drive, for instance. A particular species of this curse fills up margins and empty places in my notebook during classes. Just for instance, todays output:
How do you like the new journal? I have paid for it in itchy eyes and undone homework. So easy a thing to do, tinker and tweak the code, when real work needs to be done.
Who was it who said, the greatest battle is the battle with self? Here is the battleground, a web diary with a slick interface and little content, little read, of little import.
A housekeeping post, this. Just to keep place in the writings which will follow, like a bookmark squeezed between cover and that first dry page of copyright information.
Do you feel the excitement yet? That frission of collective expectation for what is to come? I envy you, not for what is to come, but for your joyful anticipation. It is my great phobia and my great jealousy, that others may be having fun while I miss out.
(5.00 out of 5) (5.00 out of 5) (5.00 out of 5) (5.00 out of 5) (5.00 out of 5)