I was going to sleep in this morning. I woke up about 30 minutes before the alarm and reset the alarm for 30 minutes later than usual. 5:30. But I couldn’t get the opening scene of a new short story out of my head, so I got up at 5:05, only five minutes late, and went to work.
Yesterday morning, I slapped together a few sentences that captured the essence of how I wanted to start the story, but it wasn’t writing, by any stretch of the imagination. Today I wrote the first thousand words. I have a notion of where the story is going, and had perhaps a glimpse of how it might end in the shower. This is a case of an old idea finally emerging. I have a file of printouts of interesting events or weird stories that struck me. I didn’t look at the date on the printout that provided me with the entrance to this tale, but I’m pretty sure it is at least two years old. I am always pleased when I can strike an idea from the idea file by moving it to the story pile.
For all my efforts to write fiction, my greatest “success” in terms of getting things published remains in non-fiction. I had an idea for an article yesterday and pitched it to a glossy genre magazine whose name you’d probably recognize and got the green light almost immediately. I’ll say more once everything falls into place, but I’m thrilled to be contributing to this magazine.
Watched 24 last night. An okay episode, but sort of treading water. Looks like Jack gets to tie his brother up to a chair again next week.
