Two Lame Scares

It is Lame Post Friday and I confess, I am feeling beyond lame.

I worked on my novel on breaks at work today. I wrote some good stuff. When I got home I typed in some stuff I wrote on the novel last August. It’s some pretty good stuff, too.

OK, I admit it, I don’t really have a clear idea of whether or not it’s good stuff, but I like it. Just a minor problem, however, in that I seem to have two novels. Seriously, I see two main plot lines that I thought were related, but perhaps are not.

I would really love to expound upon this dilemma, but I am afraid that if I talk too much about the novel, I will no longer feel obligated to write it. I’ve mentioned that before. Also, the ever present threat of Advice from Others. Even (good God not that!) Well-Meaning Advice.

Now I’ve scared myself.

When I first got home today, I wrote a few postcards and walked to the post office with Tabby to mail them. Suddenly I’m flashing on a Writer’s Horror Story I heard once, about a writer who used up all his creativity writing witty cards to friends and never wrote that novel.

Actually, I thought that story sounded kind of lame at the time (hey! How appropriate for today!). And the more I’m in this writing game, the lamer I see that it is. Creativity is not a bucket that you empty. It is a spring or a river or a bottomless well. You take some out, and it flows even better. I wrote novel and postcards (and, dare I say, blog post) today, who knows what I will write tomorrow!

Yes, it’s another post where I just put some words here, hit publish and drive on. I am hoping for some Mohawk Valley adventures tomorrow. I hope at least some of you stay tuned.