I spent the last hour on a deep and meaningful post, but it’s not quite ready to go. Hopefully tomorrow. (It turned into long detailed theory on how the world works instead of a simple discussion of talent versus hard work. Yikes.)
So, I figured I’d do a mini rant about how actually recording the ideas that pop into my head has made me see that I am a bit more twisted than I’d realized.
I wrote a short story earlier this week that was meant to be funny, but was also about a somewhat dark issue. To the point where I won’t even ask my mom to beta read it because it’s probably not something you should joke about.
And the novel I just finished working on has more deaths than I can count, not to mention a borderline paedophile. (At least he dies in the end. He’s definitely a bad guy. Thankfully I’m not THAT twisted.)
And the short story I was going to write earlier this week that morphed into a novel idea is all sorts of crazy, twisted insanity. And about a sensitive political issue, too. What’s up with that? I hate discussing politics and religion. (I guess this is what happens when you get a story idea from an article about antibiotic resistant gonorrhea.)
I consider myself a very positive person, but when I sit down and start writing about the future I tend to come up with these horrible views of where we’re going. Or where we could go. The people aren’t too twisted at least, just the world they live in. I guess that’s the silver lining…
Perhaps some things are best left undisturbed — like the sludge at the back of my mind which seems to come up with this stuff.
Ah well. Now, if only I had some sort of lush imagery to go along with my twisted ideas I could maybe write a good short story. Hahaha. Someday…