It’s Not Me, It’s You

Remember those first few months of a relationship… any relationship – the excitement, the wonder and the novelty of it all? Learning all sorts of new things about your beau? She doesn't like hot dogs? OK, we can do without. He's not into foreign films; he just wants to watch action films. We can turn our mind off for a couple of mindless hours.
Then we start seeing the little things. The socks curled on the floor and not in the basket. The cups left in the sink so that the milk crusts on the bottom. Staying out all night and coming home of cheap cigarette smoke and booze – the bloom is off the rose and the lawyers are circling (not that I know anything about this – all the cigarette smoke I reek of is rather expensive) and salivating. Some of you are probably wondering if my next paragraph is going to start with a complaint about my wife.
No. That's going to be the subject of a different blog, but thanks for asking.
When I get an idea, it's a wonder thing. I turn it over and over in my head. I examine every little thing about it, like a faceted gem. I work with the characters, talk with them, and put them into different situations to see how they act. I look at the world these characters live in and ask see what's where. I look at the history and try to see what happened and why. I mix and match plots. I change names (much to everyone's distress at times). I get so ready to commit this great work to screen and paper…
… And I see another shiny little bauble and I take off after it and leave the worn old rock behind in the field. When I tell people the number of projects I am working on in my head, I am not exaggerating (12). If anything, I am only counting the serious ones. I have hundreds of other ideas in my head that more than likely won't see the light of day; then again none of my novels have really been finished thus far because of either 'ooh! Sparkly!' or 'I spend 10 hours in front of a computer at work… you really expect me go sit in front of another one for another two hours?'
Which is why I tip my hat to prolific writers like Stephen King, Isaac Asimov and Ray Bradbury – if a shlub like me is getting bombarded by 2 or three good ideas a month and keep plugging away – how many ideas are they guys getting pelted with and still put out as prodigiously as they do (or did)? Of course, I know the answer to it – one day at a time. A famous quote from Stephen King sums this up best: Talent is cheaper than table salt. What separates the talented individual from the successful one is a lot of hard work. This should be posted on the wall right above my monitor.
Does it sound like I'm rambling? I probably am. This is a good sign to say 'fond farewell' to all my fans (all 1 of you) and wish everyone a good evening.


Witless Minions 4eva, yo
Enoon