Work in Progress

Taking a page from ‘Nathan, here’s a peek inside the folder on my computer labeled “3. WORKING” (in case you’re interested, the others are “1. PUBLISHED” and “2. DONE”).

  • A Murder of Crows
  • Amazons
  • Awakening
  • Celestine
  • dog
  • fiveminutefiction
  • Haven
  • hearts
  • Seven Boxes
  • story (yes, really, that’s the filename—I haven’t opened the file since 2002; I have no idea what that one’s about)
  • Straightening Up
  • Tea
  • The Client
  • The Curious Case of Buttons (it’s about a cat named Buttons—no, really)
  • The Messenger (this one will never see the light of day, I assure you)
  • The Teacher

And just for today, I’ll tell you about the files in the “2. DONE” folder, because I have a feeling some of them really aren’t—done, that is:

  • Blackout
  • By the Numbers
  • Heroine
  • Normal
  • Reunion (that one’s not done so much as dead and buried)
  • Something like Heaven
  • The Long Ride Home
  • The Sidekick
  • Waiting Room
  • Walking (that one I originally wrote in 1988—I cringe at the thought of opening it and reading what I thought was good 23 years ago)

This doesn’t even include the stories that have been started and exist in a file called “ideas.doc”—one of those in particular I am really eager to start, but it’ll have to wait until next year, once I clear my current projects list.

So, since ‘Nathan made the same offer, if you name one of these, I’ll tell you what it’s about. Mostly. Maybe.

7 thoughts on “Work in Progress

    • If you hadn’t, I’d have been disappointed. 🙂

      Ten-year-old Lisa is distraught beyond words when Buttons, her silver tabby Maine coon, passes away. She knows if she prays hard enough, though, he’ll come back to her, and he does. He comes back ten feet tall. Lisa’s parents Anna and Marcus know they can’t keep him in their city apartment (especially after the landlord finds out), and they can’t break Lisa’s heart again by getting rid of him. So how do they get Buttons out to Marcus’s parents’ homestead in the country with no one noticing?

      Here’s a couple paragraphs:

      It would have gone according to plan if their landlord hadn’t knocked on their door the next morning to fix their slow-draining kitchen sink. Figuring everyone in the family would be either at work or school, he let himself in after the most perfunctory of knocks and came face to whiskers with Buttons. Fortunately, Buttons liked almost everyone. The cat sniffed, meowed, and licked Mister Randolph’s face before the landlord fainted dead away.

      “He’s got to go,” Mister Randolph said when he regained consciousness. “You know I don’t allow dogs. People see a huge cat, what are they going to think?” He frowned at Buttons, who looked as if he were wondering what he’d done wrong. Mister Randolph stroked Buttons under his chin because he knew the cat liked that. The gesture, which he used to do with one hooked finger, now took his whole hand.

      I really need to finish this one.

    • That one was based on the line “you don’t have to be a house to be haunted.” I never did finish it, but perhaps I should.

      Some people swore that the house was haunted. When the “For Sale” sign appeared in the front yard, followed soon after by the placard reading “Open House Sunday 1–4,” I knew Evan would insist on going.

      “We’re not even looking for a house,” I protested, but only gently. Resistance was futile, and making a purchase was never the point of these outings.

    • This one I’m working on right now. It’s a story I originally finished in 2003 (I think), but it’s changed a lot since then. Here’s the first paragraph:

      Baggage is inevitable. Everyone who goes through life invariably accumulates a shifting load of burdens. Few people expect to haul their childhood baggage into their adult lives, though. Even fewer expect to get rid of it and have it wind up on the doorstep twenty years later. This is why Kyle was unhappy when his parents did just that, right after Lisa threw him out and made him get an apartment.

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