Finally, a bloody story

If I could make one wish, relating to myself and my writing, I would wish that I could control the flow of half-decently coherent story ideas. It seems like there are some times when all my ideas make some sort of sense, and there are suddenly too many to write. I sit there with a pen in hand trying to catch them, like a game show contestant locked in a chamber filled with money, grabbing at it as it flies around me on the wings of a powerful fan. The more you want all of them, the less likely you are to get any individual one. Then there are times, such as the past few weeks, when nothing comes. I have always been very hard on my own writing, but I can honestly say that everything I have written in the past two weeks has been absolute rubbish. The plots don't make sense, the characters are flat, the scenes are uninteresting and the themes are tired. Finally, today, or more appropriately, tonight, I think I've got something decent. Even if nothing comes of it, it's better than the last dozen starts have been, and that's something.

PS - Caley Thistle is in the league cup quarterfinals against Aberdeen at Pittodrie tomorrow. So wear your blue and red, or at least whisper "Mon the Caley" to yourself at your keyboard. It would mean a lot to me, and I like to imagine a universe where it actually makes some difference in the game's result. Bye now.