It’s funny how an author’s love and inspiration come and go. Here’s the deal: I’m 80% in on the rough draft of a story about the Old West and zombies, a story that I was in love with from the jump, and now I absolute hate the story. I don’t hate that it’s poorly written (it’s a rough draft) or the characters so much, but rather the story itself. Sometimes you sit down to write and the story tells itself and the author has the pleasure of experiencing it as it unfolds. In this case, I feel like I’m getting a root canal.
I stepped away from it for a few weeks hoping that I could return, finish the final 20%, and wash my hands of it – no such luck. When I sat down to finish the story I realized I just need a divorce from this thing, a clean break. I would rather shell out alimony payments than wake up to this thing a single day longer. What to do? I have no problem leaving the story to die on a hard drive, a fitting death indeed. What to write next?
Gunship, the story that I cannot seem to get away from, visits me in my dreams like a whiskey-fueled lover. Seriously, each night for the past week or so, characters from this universe have shown up while I’m asleep and demanded that their stories be told. What would the star system look like a hundred years after the conclusion of the last story? What if the vampires and orcs united?
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