Writes all the things. Most of the things never write back.
I just read a piece of writing which read, in part, “her flesh hugged her bones.”
And I thought, dear God, I hope so.
It’s 4 a.m. Now I am imagining her flesh having its differences with her bones and deciding to go off on its own.
But that would be a very different story than this one was.
I am going to write a legal thriller about the first simian appointed to the Supreme Court, and I shall call it FIRST MONKEY IN OCTOBER.
As a writer, it’s reassuring to hear Vince Gilligan say he didn’t know how Breaking Bad was going to end, other than that Walter White would die.
When the movie description includes “Amazingly, the old man has become the defacto leader of the gang,” something went wrong with the script somewhere.
The next time I submit a story, I will include a note demanding payment, or else I start killing adverbs.
Writers have a rare power not given to anyone else: we can bore people long after we are dead.
~ Sinclair Lewis
In keeping with the writing advice to kill your darlings, I am going to write a sequel to Peter Pan where the whole Darling family dies.
“NO! NOT WENDY!” Peter Pan wails.
Yes, Peter. ALL the Darlings.
The surprise ending? It was Tinker Bell who did it.
I just saw the question “Where will you find your next story?”
Under the tip of my pen, was my first thought.
I am now imagining something like An American Werewolf in London, but with writers.
Two men are hiking in the countryside. They’re attacked by a werewriter. One dies, and comes back as a ghost to warn the survivor to kill himself.
“You’ve got to do it, David! Kill yourself, or more characters will die!”
David, of course, does NOT kill himself, instead choosing to follow the old writing advice to “kill your darlings.”
I tried ghostwriting once. Consensus was that the characters were haunting, but you could see right through the plots.