Yesterday evening was a crashburn kind of writing sesh. The spirit is willing, but the flesh… and all that.
Oof.
What set it all up is that I did a reset on the serial I had plans for.
Name change possibly in the works because Everything Falls Apart is a little too, well, apocalyptic sounding for what I have in mind. This story churning around in my head is unlike most of the tales you may have read from me. It is present day and not post-apocalyptic. Nothing fantasy. Nothing science fiction. Nothing cosmic horror. Nothing overtly absurd.
I dialed back some of the layers as well. It got to be too much for me to keep track of and I am feeling more comfortable with this downbeat version of the same story with much less cleverness involved. I sometimes [Actually, you quite frequently end up doing this. -ed]. tangle myself up in my attempts to be clever. The same story is still rumbling around in this otherwise empty cavity between my ears, but the execution is simplified and with significantly increasing readability.
Save for the crashburn, it was going swimmingly.
I was smart enough to know when to give it a rest and come back before I got completely frustrated with my ability to put it to pixel. I blame it on research.
Too much time looking into what it would take to get back to indoor bouldering after 25+ years while 40 lbs heavier. Too much time looking into the sweet spot for 3D printers. Too much time trying to find specific tools for teaching myself how to panda in Python while wondering why I want to do that instead of letting AI do it for me. Too much time wondering what I should do when the workloads are light. Too much research into what it would take to retire early so I didn’t have to do anything except what I wanted to do with my time. Too much time researching a better name for this serial and overhauling the narrative approach (old gaps closed, new fissures emerge).
Crashburn.
Dust off, get back on the bike and start pedaling again is the answer.
Here we go. Whee.
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