by Stephen Johnson
I keep promising and then let everyone down. it’s to be expected, though. I’ve been doing that my whole life, so why should I change how I operate now?
See, I decided to write a book. So many ideas floating around in that vast wasteland of a brain that I have. I even had the first chapter figured out which consisted of 20 words. Funny, I accidentally type “woids” and had to correct it. “Woids” would be funnier.
Let’s try that out!
I even had the first chapter figured out which consisted of 20 woids.
So, first chapter was a breeze. Of course that was followed by the second chapter which also had a outline (in my head) and that kinda went ok. Not fully fleshed out, but the ideas I wanted were kinda written out plus it ended the way I needed it to end. I would just need to stretch out some things, maybe do a little bit of deleting and adding to gully “flesh” it out.
“Flesh”. What a word.
Now comes chapter three and I’m at a standstill. I know what needs to happen. I know what’s going to happen. Don’t know if I’m suffering from a blockage of some sort, but I’m having a hard time continuing.
I mean, how hard is it to write a complete book about someone who cans peaches? How hard is it to describe the trials and tribulations of peaches and canning? It should be easy. I have dreams all the time about canning and peaches and giant hamburgers chasing me down a hill, so it should be flowing from my mind. I should have at least 500 pages done by now.
And yet, I don’t.
Here’s the first chapter:
“Jack was sweaty. It was a dark and lonely night. Jack wanted to can his peaches, but he was sweating”.
Simple yet it exudes SOMETHING. Something was going to happen to Jack, and it was going to happen in the second chapter. That first chapter sucks you right in and you want to find out what’s going to happen to Jack and his peaches.
What was causing the sweat? That’s something you want to know and it is (kinda) explained in the first chapter. And then, at the end of the first chapter, something horrific happens. You’re in shock. You want to know more, more, MORE!
But I’m stuck.
I need help. I need a co-writer, someone who’ll help me out with Jack and his canned peaches as well as the ultra-violence which is sure to happen.
Why don’t I like Jimmy Fallon? Why does he just SEEM like a dick?
I guess I could write about cat litter, aliens and flying but that has nothing to do with peaches or cans or Jack. Good golly, I am NEVER going to get my book done!
And it’s due at some point.
I’m sure I’ll keep you updated on my struggles.
Jack and canned peaches. Bestseller!
No, not one of those shitty YA novels either. I’m tossing in curse words so it won’t be considered YA. Fuck YA.
Hey, that’s funny!
COMING NEXT: It’ll probably turning into a kid’s book with pictures