It’s funny, this writing thing.  Not this writing thing, particularly, though there are days when you feel like there’s nothing really to say, but still, those site hit stats sure are hot when they occasionally cross into the double digits, and without new content, readers go away, so you throw something, anything on the screen and hit publish…

No, the writing thing that involves novels and screenplays that I occasionally do is what I’m referring to.  And it’s kind of a bitch sometimes (now).  There’s an art and a craft to writing, and times like this are proof that I’m not much of a craftsman when it comes to my art.

Muckfuppet came out of me in a three hour burst of typing, fully formed.  Very few edits were made to the first draft, and those were mostly correcting typos.  Pentium Lad and… Chip? was a quick hour and a half knock out with a revised ending (because the first one [arguably the whole thing] sucked).  Even The Beauty of Distance — a 90 page feature screenplay — was kicked out over three weeks between me and Lance, with I think one revision pass after the first draft was done.

And yet there are some stories that sit in my head and won’t come out, no matter how long I sit in front of the keyboard.  If I start typing them, they come out wrong, or something else altogether comes out.  So I start surfing, playing around with Acid on a song for CL, or writing blog entries.

The really sad thing about this is that these stories are finished products in my head.  All the details are there, full pictures that might as well be alive.

So why won’t they come out?

These are some damn good stories, too.  Award-winning, if maybe a little on the (very) (shouldn’t ever see the light of day, at least with my name attached) dark side…

Sigh.  Where are my loop CDs?