I'm a big silly. Number 76 has been off to the races for two weeks and I haven't even mention it. It's a little poem called A Spec Fiction Writer's Lament.
The last few months have been less than stellar, from a production standpoint. I've noticed that when I get on a roll, I get all cocky. Then I confront my arch-nemesis, Process Five, and I'm stopped dead in my tracks. I'll have to sneak up on that one and take it down bit by bit, beat it up in a long war of attrition.
November promises to be very productive of course, as it's NaNoWriMo. I'll keep you guys updated. Last year I e-mailed lots of friends regularly on my progress, and they cheered me on. This year, I'm just going to do it on my own. Friends are great but I don't want to treat them like a crutch. Besides, last year was the hard one. This year I already know I can do it and short stories come easily to me. Now whether or not I produce fifty pieces of flash fiction or five novelettes or something in between, we'll just have to see. But I'm going to have fun. I haven't been very creative for the last month and a half, so I imagine brilliance will just squirt out of me unbidden. Tomorrow night it begins!
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