I’ve spent the last two months working on stories for third parties – novellas set in proprietary gaming worlds, ghost-written memoirs, on-demand fix-ups of old articles, short essays for specific publications, a handful of translations.
It’s good, because it means I’m working, and sooner or later, with a little luck, I’ll get paid.
I’ve also been working on various projects that are not yet taking off – plans and outlines, projects and proposals.
Again, this is really good. It means I’m planning, laying the foundations of work for the next months.
I am also working on a real fun project I’ll tell you about in a few weeks.
But I need to stretch a bit.
Writing on demand is good and fine, but I want to go back to sitting at the keyboard, hammering out a story in two evenings, and then send it off to the editor.
It’s the fun part of my job – and even the panic that strikes when I’m about to press the SEND button is part of the game.
I need to go back to writing short fiction for fun and profit, or I’ll give in to dread and sadness, and old age will swallow me up.
So, for my next trick…Continue reading