Thursday

It's gray and cool outside, perfect weather for gardening.  Unfortunately I'm in the dumps.  Lots of complex emotions working through me.  But I've had my morning oatmeal and that makes almost anything better.  Just waiting for it to kick in.  Maybe I'll have some chocolate for a quick pick me up until the more complex carbs start their magic.  Yep, it's called better living through chemicals.  No artificial ones required today.  Mother Nature has more than enough luvin' for me.

Last night I wrote some on a short story.  I'm waiting for the twist to occur to me, but in the meantime I have plenty of normal plot to work through.  I think I might be getting better at the whole short plot thing.  The issue now is how to keep the writing awake and alive.  At novel length I have no problems (or at least I don't think I don't) keeping the world active.  There's so much going on not just in the pov character's life but all around it--political stuff, weather, economic issues, cities and nations teeming with problems, rural life keeping the urban dwellers fed and the disconnect between them, things spiritual, societal attitudes changing and staying the same in a swirly vanilla chocolate cone of cultural existence, on and on.  Things come at the characters from way in the outfield, or sideswipe them.  There's opportunities for random things.  Grandma passes away.  George gets the flu.  There's a storm, or an earthquake, or a heat wave.  

There's not much room for those sorts of things in a short story.  There's not very much room overall in a short story.  So I struggle with richness.  I feel a little impoverished when I write a short story, in addition to feeling inadequate.  But at least when I'm actually writing instead of thinking about writing, all those worries go away.