I'm going to do it.
I'm going to do it!
I'M GOING TO DO IT!
I will, I will, I will, I will enter a short story into a contest by its March 15 deadline.
Said story has not yet been written. I have no ideas, no story structures percolating.
But even if the story is crap, I can still enter it, right? I'm sure the judges have seen a lot of crap prose in their judging days, no?
And, at least I wrote it and entered it and that would be a milestone...
3,000 words, 3,000 words, 3,000 Miles to Graceland, 3,000 Warts on a Frog, Chicken Pot, Chicken Pot, Chicken Pot Pie.
Hmmm...no ideas there in that free association exercise.
Exercise, Legs, Arms, Faces, People, Staplers, Papers, Parties, Exercising Staplers Feed on the Arms and Legs of Partying Peoples with Paper Faces...
Mmmm...no...that's not quite right.
Grasshoppers, Greed, Grinches, Grapple, Snapple, Sneer, Snot, Silly, Spooky, Weird, Wonderful, Wacky, Wizard. Boy Wizard. England. Castles. Cast of characters that include a brainy girl, goofy red-haired boy and large giant-like man.
Have I got it?
Will I make a lot of money?
No! That's not important. Commercial success does not a good writer make. Must do for own satisfaction.
Think! Think!
Idiots. Space. Monkeys. Zoo. Bum. Hallway. House. Boy Wizard Grapples with Bum Partying Stapler and Idiotic Space Monkey in a Chicken Pot Pie.
No!
Dammit!
Abercrombie and Fitch! Sugar! Steps! Jump! Scab! Schmoos! Crustacean! Arthropod! Spider! Flower! Desk! Eleanor! Doppleganger! Baseball! 67832B2!
Meaningless Facts! Abound! Mind! Dry! Bone! Wellspring! Clogged! Blocked!