Since the death of my Mum, I’ve had to come to terms with not just her loss. But the loss of my desire to write as well.
I knew with her being unwell, I wasn’t going to be able to write anywhere near as much as my output last year. Once she passed, my writing just nosedived into oblivion.
It appears that despite not finishing much, I HAVE been writing.
Lots of outlines, frameworks, partial stories.
I just went through what I’ve been calling “a small pile of ideas” for the last few months. Turns out it was a whole lot more than that. It wasn’t small, for starters.
I didn’t count what was in it. I didn’t dare.
At a rough guess I’d say there were at least 30 pieces in there. And that was without counting the things I saw folded inside a Notepad as well.
So maybe I didn’t lose the love, not entirely. Maybe I shunted my focus into a different direction.
There’s a lot there that can easily be finished. A lot that can easily expanded into actual stories too.
There’s a lot.
So I have been writing. Just not the way I was used to.
It’s going to take a long time to find the path back to a proper writing routine. I don’t know how long that path is.
My general feeling is no one human being will ever live long enough to finish all the things I’ve got started there. I’ll just have to try chipping my way through.
The Grasses of Remembrance
Their planet was green, grass stretched in every direction as far as the eye could see.
“Do you like our memorial?”
I looked up to see an old man standing a few feet away, I smiled at him. “Excuse me?”
“Our memorial, do you like it?” he asked me.
I’m not sure I understand. “A memorial to what? Where?” I ask him.
“A memorial to all who have fallen in battle. It’s all around you. Every blade of grass represents one soul lost in combat.”
“Yes, its beautiful. We have something similar on my own planet, it’s called Earth. Only ours is made of sea water. One drop for every lost soul.”
Remember the fallen and all veterans today.
You know that thing?
You know, the one where Michael Bolton asks you all those questions then just doesn’t bother listening to any of your answers?
Apparently it’s called a “song“. And he’s not really talking to you.
He’s talking to everyone. Only he’s not really talking to anyone at all.
He’s doing something called “singing“.
He doesn’t care how you can’t be lovers if you can’t be friends.
Heck, he doesn’t even WANT to be your friend. Or your lover.
Apparently he just wants to pay him money for this “song.”
How odd is that? How odd is Michael Bolton?
And he doesn’t even have that big hair any more!
Just got word back that “Smells Like Morphic Resonance” has been received, the sub it’s in for has now closed. So it should be going to a slush pile shortly.
Good to know someone will be reading it soon.
This months freebie is NOW live! Available at the links below.
A quirky (and VERY short) alternate history piece about Bettie Page. If you like it, tweet me @RayDaleyWriter
Happy November from the UK!
We had some trick or treaters last night. Fortunately my brother had the foresight to buy some goodies while he was out and about during the day.
All in all we had 13. The last two came at 9pm, but they were with 2 adults. They got everything that was left.
During the course of the night an idea had been turning over in my head. I finally decided to write it down when I was so tired, I’d already turned the computer off.
So onto paper it went. Just over 300 words after the minor revisions I did during type-up. It’s perfect for somewhere like 365 Tomorrows (and I haven’t sent them anything in quite a while too), possibly Daily Science Fiction.
I finished something else I wrote a couple of days ago, it still needs work. A couple of characters need names, that’ll improve it a little.
This months free ebook will be put out later today too. It’s an alternate history story I wrote as an extra as part of the Year Of Living Bradbury.
You have a lovely day.
Just sent off “Smells Like Morphic Resonance” (which I only really wrote a day ago!) out to submission. Fingers crossed they like it.