You simply cannot believe anything you read. For instance, I wrote down once on a piece of paper that I was going to be a goddamned writer. That made it true, right? Because I PUT IT DOWN ON PAPER. That may be a circular argument, but it was the only way that I had to contractually obligate myself to getting all of these ping pong ball ideas out of my head.
It’s even worse than that. They’re electrically charged half-formed ping pong balls. They bounce all over my brain, full of made up shit and half formed ideas and “Holy Shit that visual is a GREAT idea, now if only I had some kind of story to wrap around it!” Yeah, that’s a lot what my brain is like. I have an ADD that’s informed by having too many ideas and not being able to do anything with them. I get antsy and when I decide I want to try to let them out, they splatter onto the page like puke and afterwards I’m exhausted and don’t know what else to do with them.
I would like to try once again to organize them into some kind of coherent structure. A short fucking story or novella at least. There’s these two assholes I’ve had in my head forever and I cannot let go of them. Character details haunt me in my dreams and make it difficult to care about the day job.
So here we are. Broken Fiction v.3? I think it’s more like version 28 in my head. We’ll see how it goes, yah? Blogs aren’t nearly as hot as Twitter and that Facebook crap anymore, but I’m old school. What’s a little Excess Bloggage between friends, amirite? Stick around, I’ve got a big sack of cliches that I’m dying to try out on you guys. So here goes.
Once Upon A Time…