Okay, so more of two long weeks. Twelve days of working, straight. The last two days, my brain was so fried I could barely think.
Day Sixty-One was my first day off, so I celebrated with most of the Avengers movies. Just two more, and I’m done. I also worked on a couple of short stories. One, “Parking Lot Waltz” isn’t done yet, but it’s tricky, because I’m re-writing a story I love, but for which the only copies have gone missing. (There were two drafts, and one copy of each, and both went missing shortly after I wrote the piece about four years ago. I think they might be in my school papers somewhere.) I’m trying to remember the language I used, and what exactly I was trying to say with the piece.
The other one, “Inner Monologue,” was difficult in its own way. It’s based on a French video I saw recently (if I can find it, I’ll link it here) that tried to show men how it feels to be a woman. I thought I’d take a stab at something similar. It required me to dredge up all the horrible things my inner voice says to me. Okay, so she’s only one of the voices that are usually nattering away, but she tends to be the loudest. I’m usually trying to drown her out since she refuses to shut up. I think she enjoyed getting to talk for once. And I had to process everything she said so I could write it down.
I haven’t decided what I want to do with the stories yet. I might try shopping them around to some of the magazines, once they’re polished up all bright and shiny. So don’t expect to see them here for a long while…if at all…