Another sucker Potential Reader of the SEN has painted a bulls-eye on her forehead!

That's two, count 'em, two possible readers and the story's not even done yet, you know. That's pretty impressive. I could well break my record of six feedbacks* on this story if I buckle down.

I'm feeling all motivated and stuff, now, in case you can't tell.

(*We can only hope. Because I didn't approve of that story and I'd be happy to see it knocked out of first place.)

Also, the Big Decision has been made.

Plot-schmot. What this story needs is to be the kind of story where someone gets ditched because the other someone got an offer for a good taco.

I've been fighting it for two weeks but I'm surrendering now. The nuanced, red-herring case details are out. The porn flick is back in.

You gotta write what you know. I know nothing about psychotic serial killers, but random weirdness...that I can relate to.

Tortuous intrigue? Outside my competence.

Non-Euclidian babbling? Bring it on. (Never you mind, I know what I mean.) (Ed.: That's good. No one else followed it. Plus which, I suspect "Euclidian" doesn't mean what you think it does and you spelled it wrong.)

No one wants to read me trying to be impressively literary. Or to read a story that looks as it if was constructed using a how-to manual. Least of all me. And, even less than I want to read something like that do I want to write something like that.

But don't run away with the idea that the experiment was a failure. For those curious...or bored enough to be still reading by this point, I'd like to say that it was a roaring success.

I learned an enormous amount about the kind of work it takes to put together what I think of as a "real" story. (Especially when the putting is being done by someone who doesn't have any aptitude for the task.) And I reaffirmed the fact that I'm not really one of your buckle-down-and-get-to-it kind of writers. No nose attached to my face remains long in the vicinity of a grindstone. (At witnessed by the fact that I spent most of today writing personal e-mails and now I'm writing the days' second blog entry.)

Such pressure. Two potential readers! I feel like I should put on clean socks and comb my hair. Maybe make a few finger sandwiches.

Now I have nothing left to fear but the possibility that one of The Readers is related to or fond of a Shriner.

Expect me to make much of this in future posts.

Until then, let's all have a moment of silence for the approximately 40 pages worth of material I'll be burning in a cleansing ceremony later this evening.

(It's possible I'm a touch manic-depressive. If so, I have to say I do enjoy going into these manic states.)