burning the midnight oil

around 1 last night, i was preparing to go to curl up in bed when i felt the need to write. quite happy, as i haven't felt that nagging "i have something to say and dammit i'm going to say it" urge in at least a couple of weeks, i put pen to notebook and, after initial hesitancy because i wasn't sure where to begin, i started scribbling madly. a hour and a half later, i had the beginning of a collection of stories. not the novel - that's going to come in time. but i had finally begun the process of taking memories i've stored away in my mind and putting them to paper, trying to capture and flesh them out in a more creative way than my typical quasi-journalistic recounts.

ah ... it feels great to have it all started! i'm going to try to devote some time to it each day ... a memory every couple of days should be feasible. and i'm setting up a new little space to post them while in progress ... i'm not quite sure of when i'll let others see them, but if you want to be alerted to when i do offer them to other eyes, comment here and i'll let you know.

i've already got a title for the collection, too, which amused me greatly. and it's not "the great american collection of short stories." i know, i'm shocked too.