Sometimes I do a very good job of pissing myself off. Especially when I leave something undone that I didn’t remember starting.
I am working on a short story now. I will have completed the first draft by Saturday. I will start a new story on Monday (this second one is about an vampire addicted to nicotine who can only get it’s fix from the blood of smokers ; something to do about vampires not being able to metabolize nicotine through patches or through their lungs because they are not really alive and don’t have a metabolism to speak of). I will work on the final draft of the first story on Wednesday and rewrite it before Christmas.
I am now looking for an idea to think about and dream about while I work on those two others. So, I go through all of my undone works and see what ideas I had a while ago to see if they are any good. And then, I stumble upon the tidbit that I am attaching here.
Seriously, though. I’m not awesome by any stretch. But this was pretty good for what looks like a single go at it (I cannot find any follow up work anywhere so I don’t know if I did go at it again). And I do not remember writing a single word. I’m getting old, people. But the good news is that I am the same age as Dante when he started The Comedy and the same age as Joyce when he first started publishing Ulysses, so while I am not as talented, I am in good company.