Aside from the death of 63-year-old Robin Williams, this week started out really crappy.
As you may--or may not--know, I'm putting together a collection of short stories. Roughly half of them are fairly new, while others are older. Both age groups need work.
But I have one that I hate.
Then why publish it, you may ask. Because I have to. I don't hate the story--I actually love the story and its potential. I just hate it in its current form. Monday at work, on my breaks and lunches, I wanted to rip the pages in half and toss them into the garbage. The story needed that much work.
This story had been submitted to a fiction website roughly 6-7 years ago and I recieved some great editorial feedback. Unfortunately, at the time, I concentrated my efforts elsewhere and this story sat and sat . . .
Now I am resurrecting it.
From scratch. This is taking longer than I thought, and I am just itching to continue with the sequel to Beholder's Eye.
Soon, my friend. Very soon . . .