Like most and probably all writers, I have lots and lots of unfinished stories and novels just sitting around waiting for me to get back to them. There was a time when something like 95% of everything I started remained that way, but thanks to one of my three mentors, the late
Annabelle McIlnay, I became much more disciplined. In fact, when a co-worker recently asked me if I was participating in
NanoWriMo this year, I awkwardly informed her I didn't really need to. Well, I tried to say that but was too busy being yelled at as the co-worker demanded that I not even finish my sentence.
Still, none of that means I am so disciplined that I finish everything. I'd estimate now that my completion rate is something like 70%, which is still damn good. At the risk of sounding like an even worse braggart, there's also the matter of my output ratio. Simply put, I start more stories than I used to when Annabelle was admonishing me to "Just finish one damn thing" before starting another.
I recently completed a script and a short story that I am still debating whether or not to let anyone else see (read about that
here) but there are several stories still sitting in my to-do pile wondering what my problem is. I need motivation. I need that gentle push. I need
you, baby.
So, here are the first sections of three unfinished stories for you to read and provide me with one simple piece of feedback: Which one should I finish next or should I scrap them all and go back to scribe school with my wanna-be Hemingway ass?
Leave a comment with your insightful comments and see the story starts below:
Partners
His name isn’t important.
He will tell you the same. For reference purposes, you may refer to him as “Mal.” Whatever his last name is or was, he hasn’t used it in years and no longer cares to remember it.
What he does care about, however, is what will transpire over the course of the next few hours. He stands before a large group of people -- call them what they are --Call them followers -- that stares at him with grim expectation and damn near blind devotion. He tries to smile reassuringly but the muscles in his face that form such things have long since gone dead.
Just like his tear ducts.
Final Illumination
Howard stops climbing the wall, turns to me and says, “Do you think he can hear what we’re
thinking all the way out here?”
I shake my head with what I hope is confidence, motion for him to keep climbing. Even brief delays such as these could cost us dearly.
Below us, the searchlights move frantically along the craggy surface, all-terrain vehicles reflecting the light for an instant as they continue their own search for the escaped dissidents. For us. I can feel Howard’s fear. I can feel his hopefulness as well. He believes in me and my ability to get him to safety.
Fifteen years ago, one glance at my inhuman face would have sent a human like Howard screaming into the nearest safe spot. But times have changed for the human race, as they have for us.
And it was all because of one young man in a place called Westphalia, Michigan.
The Wall They Paid For
The Great and Noble Book of Orange tells the story of a time when the haters and losers opposed the Wall. It’s hard to believe this is true, but since all other information is Fake News, it has to be true. But sometimes, when I’m alone and the Drainers aren’t in the vicinity, I confess I doubt the Word of our founder.
The story, told in the Book’s typical one-hundred and forty character sentences, features many references to those ancient people known as the Demoncrats, who existed solely to oppose the founder and to hate freedom. There’s nothing in the Book that actually explains why they did these things or really who they were, but that’s a matter for the Church Apprentices to address when they deliver the Sunday night sermons. I haven’t been to church in months, a fact that has not gone unnoticed by the Apprenticeship. They have only mentioned it in casual conversation so far but the time is swiftly approaching when they will become more aggressive. That means I don’t have much time to accomplish my task.
