i'm usually pretty happy when stories write themselves. but then i have to go back and make sure they work. some of them do, some of them don't. The Saint of Elsewhere and Troll's Doll were two stories that mostly wrote themselves and ostensibly worked in most places, and where they didn't, they were agreeable enough with my small manipulations and tinkerings (much of those in the former thanks to Q's suggestions--credit where credit is due) to turn into something that still managed all right in the end. the one i've been working on lately wrapped itself up almost a whole month ago, long enough for me to start another. but now both stories are in limbo because i CAN'T GET THAT GODDAMNED STORY TO WORK. it's done. it wrote itself. but it seems to have set itself in stone. there are a number of things wrong with it--most of which are things i know are wrong with it--and i've made some changes--some of them pretty drastic, mostly to do with deleting large chunks of it--that i have no doubt will ultimately prove to be for its own good. but i can't seem to change what it essentially chooses to be. it isn't that it doesn't say or do most of what i wanted it to when i started, and a few other things i didn't that i probably haven't picked up on yet as well; just that it doesn't work.
it's frustrating and depressing and taking the fun out of my vacation, and keeping me from doing other things i should be doing.
so why write?
sigh. right. of course. well. on with the motley.
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