Fumbling in the dark

Work on Truck Me today was a mirror image of the day before. On the train this morning words were hesitant to come out and when they did they were ropey and unsatisfying. Then on the way home my mind fell into that nice comfortable groove and I was soaring through an easy 500 words.

Did a draft of 'Displeasures of the Flesh' this evening. I have to say it is one of my favourite stories, but coming up with an ending has been more like groping around in the dark for a small object than carefully chiselling out a sculpture. Just about everything I come up with either seems like an anti-climax or a lot of philosophical rambling that deserves a large red line through it. I suspect I am trying to rush it, which has been my most obvious failing in everything I have ever written. That said, I think I can see the solution slowly coming into focus. Here's hoping...

The Fearless Writer