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I'm not writing anything new just yet... But I have begun modifying the last story I was working on. I can promise that it will be at least 60,000 words. Probably longer if what I have is any indication.
Hopefully in 2024 I'll have it ready for you and bookappy.
Happy holidays. Whether you celebrate Christmas or Chanukah, or some other holiday during this season, I wish you a joyous time of celebration!
Must go down. Or so we're told. I'm definitely bipolar. I'm also frustrated by paranoia. What am I paranoid about? Putting my real life out there, even if I trust everyone (including the agency that doesn't exist) to not let the information be compromised the idea that I could gain a stalker is pretty much terrifying.
So even though I could use a supplement to my income I have taken no steps toward monitizing my work.
Well there's the fact that patreon has a policy which would not let me monetize 99% of what I've published here....
This year (well I actually started about this time last year) I wrote about 60,000 pointless words. Or in other words, I rambled on for that many words with no true story development. I haven't tossed the hot mess, but I haven't looked at it since early April. At that time I put aside the mess because it was growing like kudzu but not going anywhere. As with everything I've published here, it was a story without an ending, which I had no clue of how to end. Or IOW what was the point anyway?
What happens to dreams that have died? Sometimes they hang around like rotting corpses corrupting your life.... Other times they become shambling zombies, half alive things haunting you with your failures.
Really to me it doesn't matter much which describes dead dreams, for as far as I can tell I've murdered my dreams with malice aforethought.
All that remains is a slow descent into hell, and that's because I'm a coward who fears not succeeding in a clean end. But hell is all I can see from the charnal house of dead dreams.
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