Stuff's been percolating in the ol' cranium. Writerly things.
I've made a few attempts at fiction writing before: I have one short story I'm fairly happy with, and I have about 30 pages of a horror novella that needs some heavy editing1 and revising but could possibly go on to be something complete, if nothing else.
But both of those were written about 10 years ago, and despite a few half-hearted attempts at collaboration on short stories, a novel and two screen plays with various friends, the muse did not deign to raise her head in my general direction. Part of the reason is my writing interests have remained largely focused at nonfiction, where I'm determined to write something that gets my point across exactly as I intend it. 95% of my stuff gets about 65% close to it. One or two pieces may have even reached above the 90% mark. Doesn't really matter if my point is mundane2 or reaches to more lofty3 standards, the purpose has always been to get it across, as close as possible.
But the fiction urge is starting to build up a little bit, poking its fingers in my ears and scratching between my shoulder blades. Yesterday I was driving back to the office after a lunch hour spent perusing the Science Fiction/Fantasy aisles in Borders in response to a query I posted over at Unbound, and an idea sprang into my head. Very short, maybe 10 pages if that, but it was a fully-formed idea, and 10 minutes later it still seemed like a good one. So I battered out a rough outline of the action and beats in my notebook and left it. A few hours later I peeked in to check on it. Hadn't run away, and still seemed like a good idea.
So maybe this will go somewhere. Dunno. I'm going to take a stab at it and, if I'm feeling particularly bold, or jaunty, or perhaps drunk, I may post it in some form up here or elsewhere where it can be read and commented on. We'll see.
1 Especially in the pretension deaprtment. The working title was "The inevitable Inclusion of Death as a Variable in the Algebraic Formula for Love," the writing of which makes me wince with shame.
2 HATCHET is a bad movie.
3 The existence of a higher power, unassailable proof of which was demonstrated earlier this week when Knight Rider was actually picked up for an entire season while Pushing Daisies still languishes in television limbo, although one could argue that this gives more weight to the existence of the guy with the horns and the tail, although that could AGAIN point to the existence of the guy with beard and the flowing robes, since one could posit that the existence of one implies the existence of the other, although on an entirely different hand (let's assume we have more than two, and that we're Douglas Adams) there's the argument that proof denies faith, and without faith we're back to drawing board again.
Both of these footnotes are brough to you by the spirit of David Foster Wallace, may he rest in peace.