The lure of something different

I’m waiting. Waiting for a go ahead or a let it die. (This one would take time, everything I have, and cause a huge personal shake-up). But it’s big and a hell of a personal story.

I’m resting, my hands hurt and my wrists ache from the last push to ‘the end’ of something that I loved compiling. For what end, not sure yet.

I’m excited, I want to try something different, really different like sci-fi.

Years ago I wrote a science fiction short story which I sent to Isaac Asimov Magazine. I received a form-rejection but on the bottom of the dismissal an editor scribbled a note. He said he loved the story and suggested I expand it into a book.

I tried. But it was ‘long ago, and far away’, while I was mired in the quicksand of family with young children and a full time job. Plus, what the hell did I know about writing a book back then? I read them, I didn’t write them. What the hell do I know about writing a book now? I’ve written three, which means I know how not to cut the pattern and stitch the seams.

I love the story, my kids love the story, it’s actually pretty cool and, (not easy when thinking up new sci-fi), it is original.

I’m getting antsy. In the meantime I have a column deadline looming and no ideas. First in line, a have-to. Next, a want-to. Life is just full of choices. Job calls.

I’m off. Do you have to go to work today?