It would really help me to write this story if I knew what it was about. Other than the ghost of an obscure actor haunting a cheap hotel.
Maybe I should go make blueberry yogurt muffins while I think about it.
Maybe I should read up on industrial musicals.
Maybe I should pet the cat.
(The cat says, MONKEY! PET THE CAT!)
As I'm sitting here thinking, gee, this story just isn't quite ripe yet, and writing exactly one (1) sentence of it, a package arrives containing the CEM of Ink & Steel and the page proofs for the MMPB of Blood & Iron. So I have Important Work on a Deadline to do that isn't New Writing, and I get a reprieve.
The story has that feeling in my head that tells me it's filling up its gastank and revving its engine, so I expect it'll take off fairly soon. It's got some kind of thematic development going on, I think. And in the meantime, I can do this stuff I need to do.
Isn't that nice of the universe?
I wait here with a big potroast dreaming of how dinner should be
But he'll grab a sandwich late again, so I've a dried-out roast for company.