Yesterday, I spent most of the day working on a weird tale which borrowed from my experiences as a boy in Florida as much as it did from my interests in odd and horrific fiction. I wrote for hours, getting out well over three thousand words, but as I surveyed my progress and the consistency of the tale I realized that I was making a mess of my original intention.
I have abandoned that story for the time being.
Today, though, I am in the midst of another series of hours of pouring out words. This time the story is different, and I'm getting a little too invested in it. I decided to write my version of an update on the model of a classic ghost story. Like the story from yesterday, this one also borrows from my past experiences, as I find myself loosely following the old, "Write what you know" directive.
I'm tapping into a cold February from years ago, in a historic town where my wife and I managed to escape for an unforgettably strange, yet charming Valentine's Day. The story doesn't involve the holiday as much as it focuses on the oddity which is the Victorian bed and breakfast, and it goes into the feel of an old town and the old establishments which comprise the town. There are also ghosts, because a ghost story would be kind of crap without them.
The trouble with trying to capture the feel of a good ghost story, I find, is that you tend to creep yourself out and cultivate a mild paranoia about the quiet corners of your home. I try to get into the moments and the atmosphere when I write, and when I do this in a ghost story it creeps me out, thoroughly.
Regardless of my personal terror at my own process, I'm hoping to try and sell this story, if at the end of its composition I am satisfied with it. However, if it doesn't sell, I will certainly be placing it in my short story collection.
Anyway, back to the writing. Progress updating and blog massaging for this day is complete!
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