I know, I know, I promised to post new stuff this year.
Let me explain by way of metaphor:
Back around 1974, a year-and-a-half or so after the release of Seventh Sojourn, we legion of fans of the Moody Blues were getting antsy for another album. Surely, in that much time, they'd recorded SOMETHING new.
Well, it was twenty years before the internet became anything like a going concern, but a nasty rumour began making the rounds. According to this sour little tale, the MBs had indeed recorded another record; and then, upon reflection, decided it was just more of the same.
And so they erased the tapes.
We were outraged. That music belonged to us, their fans!
(Of course, there was probably nothing to that fairy-story. I've tried several times through the years to find a real accounting of what happened.
Around that time, most of the MBs recorded solo works, and eventually released Caught Live + 5, which was pretty much what the title suggests.
So, there were five new MB songs to enjoy, and that was enough, because the late-sixties/early-seventies era was about to give way to the relatively soulless mid-70s pre-disco wasteland.)
Anyway, back on topic:
Even if the story was true, the music belonged to them, not to us. If they wanted to nuke it, that was their right.
Now, I have no such conceit about the demand for my writing. Nevertheless, as I look over my stash of unpublished stories -- completed and partial -- I just don't like what I see, and for three reasons:
1. Too many of the stories are too much like variations on others
2. My recent style has turned too dark and terse
3. I just have no enthusiasm to complete what I've started
In total, I have half-a-dozen stories almost finished; thirty or so in development; and a few dozen sketches.
(Now, I also have a few dozen written ten to twenty years ago. They are amateurish, not well thought-out, and just generally embarrassing. They will remain on lockdown.)
The muse has abandoned me, seemingly for good.
I've decided to try to finish three of them by the end of 2014, consign the rest to the bitbucket, and then hang up the pen.
This doesn't mean I'll never write again. Just doesn't seem likely.
I appreciate all the support over the last half-dozen years.