Over the past few days I’ve had all kinds of things fly through my head that seemed like fun things to write about, but when I sit down, it just isn’t there. I’ve tried making notes as these ‘things’ occur, but a different problem manifests when I attempt to expand on the notes – it’s just not spontaneous, you know? I enjoy writing because I never know what’s going to come out. For that reason, I’ll never be an author. I’ll just be known as “that guy who writes funny stuff, sometimes.”
That’s OK. Diane would like it if I could actually convert some of these words into an income based on royalties, but she’s not stressing over it. I have to admit, that would be nice. But, I’m not disciplined enough to develop stories based on a plan, or an outline. That’s like work.
I gathered that bit of information from a book Diane gave me, “How I Write – Secrets of a Bestselling Author” by Janet Evanovich with Ina Yalof. Though it’s not numbered, page XI revealed to me that I’m just not going to make the grade as an author because one of her bullet points is “Make writing a responsibility. Think of it like a job and show up on time.”
Since I’ve already retired, twice, I don’t need another job, so I write just for the fun of it. If people enjoy reading it, great. If not, that’s OK, too. It doesn’t affect how I will scribble in the future because I write mainly for me, not the reader, which is another one of the bullets on that page – “… Write for the reader.” Another failure on my part, I fear.
Now, to temper that a bit, Janet has an entire cast of characters which I dearly love to read about. The dialogue is fun and her stories are, too. Since I don’t have characters, I guess I’m a narrator, with a more schizophrenic method of sharing data in that one thought leads to another until, viola!, the page is full, it’s 2200, and time for bed.
Then I quit.
Actually it’s 2212 right now so I’m late. Diane has already gone to bed.
I do have some stories, though, with characters who have speaking parts that I may paste on one of these posts one day. Stupid stuff. I’ll do that one day when my mind is blank.
Or, maybe I’ll just make up a fairy tale.
That would be fun.