The Addiction of the Ink

At left, a vial of morphine taken from wikicommons as placed in the public domain by Stickpen. Thanks for that.

Here we have it: morphine. Why bother with the middleman? Go straight for the hard stuff. This is it.

I've been writing. I've been ignoring the blog because I didn't think it helped me write.

Maybe it does.

It's been an especially creative period over the holidays. I hope you can say the same.

I have ink stained fingers. I am in a composing phase and have spent a lot of time with fountain pen in hand. I believe I am producing better stories. I'm happy about them.

I like the odd little perspective: the unusual twist. I like cleaning ladies who moonlight as enforcers for a drug dealer. I like lawmen who are as bad as the criminals. I like heroes who prefer to not do the right thing but who cannot help themselves in the end.

I like big dogs in little cars.

Stay off the sauce. Stay on the ink. The stories will come; but, you have to finish a lot of them for little tricks to all work out as you want when you are composing.

I have to get a little more ink on my paws tonight before I turn in ... and so do you. Keep that pen and paper handy. Kill your television. Cancel Netflicks. Block Hulu.

Tell some stories. Tell some stories you like ...

The hardest part is that first pass where you tell yourself the tale and then have the courage to turn right back around and re-write with little markers where all the juicy parts you though of "too late" in the first pass ought to fold back into themselves.

Messy? Sure.

But fun.

Take a hit. It's only ink.

First one's free.