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…