The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why. – Mark Twain.
One week has passed and I’m back here blogging. Touchdown.
I’ve actually been doing a lot of writing in the last week. I started by publishing a short story on Amazon Kindle: The Gunman who forgot who to shoot. It’s about a 1800s gunman who, ah, forgets who he’s supposed to shoot. Guess that was kinda obvious. The gunman has stroked out so he not only forgets who to shoot but has some trouble with his pistol on account of the stroke.
Say what you will about the idea, I don’t know of any other stroke westerns.
I also got some heavy lifting in on a longer short story that might turn into a novelette or novella. I expect to have it done by Labor Day and will be calling on my friend Shelagh to edit it. She just doesn’t know this yet.
It feels good to be tapping this stuff out. I’m not worrying about the business of getting this stuff read; I’m just dialed in on pumping the stuff out.
Working on this stuff, I pulled out a quote I’d jotted down from Mark Twain a few years back. “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why”
Hmmm. A few things came to mind as I read and re-read this.
My first thought was how freaking cool it would be to have people quoting you years and years after breathing your last.
Second thought was wow, how long can ‘why’ take? Is it clear or is it one of those things you only realize later? Does that second important day come and go only to be appreciated near the end of life? Do some, many or even most of us never find out why?
Thinking about this ruined about an hour of my day last Thursday.
And when my head stopped spinning, I decided that I don’t care if I ever find out why. Or if there even is one why.
This week I’m just going to keep tapping on the keys and try to pump this next story out. If why strikes me, I’ll drink a toast to Mark Twain and consider myself all the better. If it doesn’t, I’ll just keep thing away.