Yesterday I kind of snuck my late Monday post in under the radar (snuck isn’t a word, Chromebook? what is it, sneaked? That sounds just as silly), making the post and not saying anything about when I made it. Today is Wednesday and I am boldly making my Tired Tuesday post and telling you it is late. For one thing, I am still too tired to write about other things.
That is an interesting thing about this blog. When I started it, I wanted it to be about Something, not just me. Well, it became a lot about me, and now it seems it has become a lot about itself. Is that like a snake eating its own tail (another cliche but one not as often used)? That is what fiction advisors say about people writing about their own experiences, just changing the names. Sooner or later, they say, you run out of things to write about. I quite frankly do not see where that is inevitable. You keep living, don’t you? Incidentally, that is not my style when I write fiction: I make almost everything up, characters, situations, events.
Well, the characters in my books sometimes drink wine.
I wanted to throw in a picture to pep things up but did not have one of me writing. To continue: a number of my friends have asked to be put into books. I hesitate to do this, because what if they don’t like how they are portrayed? “I’m not like that!” “I would never say that!” They would also like to be killed off, since I write murder mysteries. I have thought of trying a horror novel, where lots of people get killed. I could knock off all my friends and enemies at once. Something to think about.
Full disclosure: In my long life, I have only ever finished one novel. I currently am not even working on one, but I am trying to get back into it. These days I write my blog, my interactive murder mysteries, and articles for Mohawk Valley Living magazine. That reminds me: I have a magazine deadline coming up. Yikes!
Mohawk Valley Girl 