Tricky, thinky, angsty, decisiony thoughts

AKA: Embarrassing post is Embarrassing.

It seems I made a mistake when I decided to write Shed. I'm not even entirely sure why I decided to go with it when I had another plot bunny all primped perfumed and ready for the show. I think I may have become distracted by the shiny-sparkly new!-baby in my ideas draw but actually trying to write it...? Way premature. It's really not happening, I have the ideas and I think they're good but terribly embryonic. The brew needs to steep a little longer, it needs more work, more prep, more thought and I think, maybe it'd be better to put the whole caboodle back on the shelf while I write a more complete idea that's been long-brewing in what I laughingly think of as my 'brane'.

On Wednesday, I finally gave in and started making notes for a new project, working-title 'i Window'  (really, don't ask, the reasons are strange and embarrassing). It's a story I've had on my mind, off and on, for years. The minute I decided to switch, everything fell into place, I wrote more in a morning on Window than I had on Shed in 2 months and, loathe though I am to switch horses this early in the race,  it just feels right, must be something to do with Mars being retrograde or... something.

Tbh, I don't understand, now, why I set myself the challenge of writing something entirely new when this story has been nestling in a cosy corner of my mind for at least 10 years, for as long - maybe longer - than Entanglement. There's no accounting for it, none at all, whatever strange and convolute reasons I had back in January when I embarked on the decision to write Shed first, they're lost to me now. But - oh, the relief! Like having a boil lanced or a splinter removed, only a whole lot less painful.

And dangit all to Hades and back, I suppose I ought to change the title of this blog again, too. 

Meanwhile, I have a father to feed and a house to clean. Life huh, so far from perfect yet, what's the alternative? Send your answers on a postcard. In the meantime, I'll be the one rocking in the dark and dusty corner, sucking my thumb with spiral-eyes, like a cartoon.