Instead of using these last two weeks before I hit the novel keys to enjoy myself I’ve done something to make my life a mess again. After everything I said about short stories on August 18th I’ve agreed to do one for an anthology.
Why? It’s true that the premise interested me. But so what. I’ve been asked to contribute a ss to many different anthologies that sounded promising and I’ve always managed to say no. Managed? I simply siad no for the reasons I’ve stated before. I always wished that I could contribute, especially when asked by someone I liked and respected. But I felt I wasn’t capable.
So why did I feel capable this time? I have no idea, but now I don’t. And that’s where the angst comes in. Ever since I agreed to write a story I’ve been depressed, anxious, angry and miserable. But I don’t want to write an email saying I’ve changed my mind. I made a commitment and I always try to stick to them.
But what if I actually write one and it’s no good?
Isn’t it nice to have me back complaining about writing? A new year (I always count September as the new year as if I were still in school) is about to start and before my complaints begin about writing the novel I’ll be here typing out what I’m going through over the writing of the ss.
I’m going to try to use this assignment (I know I gave it to myself) as a way to ease back into writing that peculiar novel I was working on before the summer. Someone is waiting for the ss and that’s more than I can say about the novel.
I am, BTW, very flattered that I was asked. The first thing I’m going to do is read some ss. If anyone has a suggestion of what crime story anthology I should read I would appreciate it.
No vampires, please.