In my never-ending quest to maintain my fix of reading about writing, I found a fun blog yesterday that is a group of 30 writers, editors and booksellers working in horror and dark fantasty. They're at Storytellers Unplugged. Lots of fun.
I've been making some good headway recently on re-writing an old story of mine into a new format (and giving it a fresh new voice as well). This is an early effort I first wrote when I was seventeen and fascinated with Death - not dying, but Death as in the reaper. The story was called I, Death and was my attempt at exploring Death and also alluding to Asimov's I, Robot - not because of any similiarities of course, but just because I liked the title. I since wrote a "sequel" to it that is a much better piece of writing, but I've always wanted to revisit this original piece and see if it could be re-worked into something salvagable.
So far, so good. The concept itself is not new - but I'm curious to see if I can bring the characters and situation a new life in a new form. I've been able to slap down about 2000 words in the last few days, and this is just writing I've done on the afternoon GO train ride home -- yes, despite the constant distractions of the people I ride with. I'm considering cancelling my subsription to The Hamilton Spectator in order to free up more writing time for the ride into Toronto in the morning, but it is nice to actually have a bit of a clue about what's going on in the world.
The big debate going on in my little head right now are how I'm going to spend the morning tomorrow when I set my alarm for 4:50 AM. Will it be jogging again (my legs are burning like mad this morning from yesterday's jaunt), lifting weights, or snuggling into the basement den with pen and paper. All three appeal to me for different reasons.
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