Who do you want to be today?
For me, what do I want to write today. Lately I’ve been writing a lot of flash fiction, which I love, but it does not fulfill all my writing desires. So what else do I want to write?
The problem is that I don’t usually get to write what I want to write. I have great literary aspirations, but my inner critics/helpers tend to undermine my goals. It’s hard to expound on a woman’s elegant beauty when my inner manly man is yelling, “Show us her tits!”
But which side is the real me. Sometimes I think I’m “supposed” to write a serious novel, but I’m not a serious person. Can there be depth without seriousness? Is verbal slapstick an art form? Do I overthink everything?
I have a novel in the planning stages. It’s based on my fear of being in control of my own destiny, which manifests as dreams about preparing for journeys that are infinitely delayed. The conflict is that in real life my journeys happen, rarely with any delays.
Then there is the twist, which is that I see this book as an homage to my favorite class of movies, the campy horror story. Sort of Vincent Price in Our Town if it was written by Kafka as told by Brother Theodore. Easy to describe, but to execute?
I told you I think too much.