I Lie…I’m a Writer
Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire
I admit it. I’m a liar. I’m a writer. When there are facts, I present them as facts. I do not lie about facts. But, a story, not an autobiographical or biographical account for myself or any person, is fair game for the lying field. In fact, that sounds like a good title: The Lying Field.
Writers of fiction make shit up. I’m in the process now of crafting a story. I’m going to write it during the November NaNoWriMo. This afternoon, I got it in my head a storyline I could use.
POW…POW…BAM…POW…OH, SHIT…I’M SHOT…I’M DYING…NO, I’M NOT…NOT DEAD…NOT YET...THE END.
It’s a sine wave. Up and down, up and down. What could be simpler?
The idea, though, is to come up with one person in the beginning — my hero or heroine. Or I suppose it could be an animal. Then, I’ll need some sort of place for all this to take place. Then, I need a problem. Actually, I need a bunch of them. But, stepping in time up a flight of stairs. Each step is one of those POWs I talked about earlier. The suspense builds.
There needs to be a climax. Like the cattle drive is over, and we all get paid. Or, the hero or heroine gets married, and instead of a happily ever after, there’s some sort of Oh Henry ending.
One of my guides just suggested I wash my hair, and maybe I’ll be able to think better afterward. I wonder if that’s a thing when your hair hurts?
This is the fifth story I’ve written today. Three of them got snagged out of my 12 file where I put bits and pieces of articles I never finished. Sort of a sewing box of stories. Four of those stories will be published in November 2023 while I am busy writing the novel I was talking about before. Again, as you can tell from the beginning of this story, I haven’t quite decided what I’m going to be writing about. I’m not worried. Something will occur to me.
I have four more stories to write for next month. One every other day. Then, if there is still time, I suppose I could go back and fill in the days when nothing is scheduled. Or I could use that time to really concentrate on what I’m going to be writing about next month.
You know what I want? I want a beer. I’d also like to have a cigarette. That’s what I want. I can’t have either because I don’t drink, and I don’t smoke. I quit a long time ago. I quit drinking first, and six months later, I quit smoking. It had to have been more than 20 years ago. It’s like grieving. The grief never goes away completely anyway. And, in times of stress, it turns out you still want a drink and a cigarette.
Okay, I’m going to have a super-powered grass drink. Take a deep breath and just wait through the cravings.
Thanks for reading.
