don't be surprised if a new bar jumps, saying that i have halfway finished a novel. no, it wasn't written all in one night. Like so many other things, i started, stopped, went back to it. i found a few scenes hard to write, for whatever reasons, and usually knowing something big is coming up chases me off a book.
a quick trick to avoid that is to write the scene. badly. who cares? then write it again. true, you waste time, but so does not writing. now that you have written crap, go back over it and see if anything is good. there's a good starting point to rewriting the scene the way it should be.
if you're like me, almos the entire book is re written. no biggee, it's better than not writing. and has led to publication. yes, i am still agog gog over it. so much that i am using words like agog gog. or was it ga ga? thank you dr. suess. i blame my blather speak on your books in my childhood.
i had this great idea for joke, about how humans are inbred. earth is the backwater mountain terrain of the universe. our spaceships would be on blocks, if we had any. my friends we're laughing, and for some reason, it stuck with me. now, i'm thinking what if the ailens wanted to help the human race? becuase if you're christian, there was adam and eve, to noah and his three sons. which is a very small start for a human race. of course, if you believe in evoultion, many scientist (i know. i'm quoting them and i can't even spell the word scienctist) say that humanity was started from a very small gene pool. about the size of mosquito drool.
so what if we are inbred, dumb hicks? would aliens look at us and shake their head thing and sigh? we would help an inferior race, but than we're stupid. we would give technogoly to others, but has that ever worked well here on earth? and do we learn, or keep doing it? maybe, the aliens could cure one person. how would that be if you were suddenly way more emtionally mature than any other human on earth?
i know, stupid questions from a stupid mind, and bad typist. speller. whatever. but i have, sadly, nothing else better in my brain than to wonder pointless ideas that might become books.