BLOGGING & WRITING & LITERATURE: Excuses

So yes, I’ve milked out this Typepad shutout problem longer than it existed.  I have the framework of two postings on LIT for both Robinson’s A Perfect Stranger and Aristotle’s Poetics.  I have Steinbeck’s Cannery Row laying in wait.  I have this week before Christmas to finish up framing, and mostly what I’ve been doing is writing.

Big Tim Dawson‘s been bugging me.  He’s torn off the clothes I gave him and gone his own way yet insists that I write what he’s doing:

"With one strong push he hit surface and swam slowly upriver.  He breathed in the river.  He pissed in it.  He sucked and caressed it as though it were female, entangled himself in the whore’s hair of riverbed weeds.  Seeking its baptismal power in orgasmic oblivion, he gave himself to it, gave in."

I’m not updating the linked first draft to this new version yet.  It’s covered in red and blue notes and is moving and changing and turning in on itself as it should.  But unlike the postings I did in Learning to Spin that revealed all the stages a story goes through, I’m keeping this muddle to myself until it forms itself closer to the shape of Tim Dawson. 

Yes, I’m being kicked out of the story.

And that’s a good thing.