Uncle Josh Tries to Plot His Way out of a Paper Bag
Writing has been slow. Very slow. I used to be able to spit out large quantities of text and a good clip, but lately my muse has become tight-fisted with the words. The 100 prompts project? I’ve read 12 of them. I believe I should have been closed to finished by now.
The current story, based on a 7-sentence structure, seems to be crawling, even though I know exactly what I want to do with the story, and where each scene needs to go. The words just don’t flow. I seem to be freer with opinion these days, because I’ve always had a lot of opinions.
When I turn to my overfull pile of half finished manuscripts (excuse the hyperbole, they’re all in Google Docs so I no longer get the feeling of it being overstuffed), I find I don’t even know what the next action should be, and it’s hard to match the word to the action when the action is unknown. A lot of those halted starts are part of my hardboiled science fiction run, which I am still trying despite all the evidence that it’s barely working.
Hardboiled stories are mysteries, and I’ve yet to find a solid way to plot them, unless I know the crime first, and often it’s the victims and secondary characters that come first. I have a rogue’s gallery ready to go, it feels like.
I know the easiest answer is to quit bitching at get writing, so maybe I’ll shut up now.