Maybe You Can Blame Your Parents

Your parents may bequeath you many things... like brown eyes, a house, a fiery personality, an obsession for antiques. My parents have not left me any of those particulars. One thing about writing a separate story every day is that you notice what your repeat. In fact, I think I'm repeating that idea. Was that …

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Maybe a Temper Tantrum

Sometimes I may begrudge every other published writer everything. You know, in moments of personality collapse. Meaning, those moments when I'm not the great and fantabulist soul I want to be. (Yes. Fantabulist.) Those moments when I'm resistant, cranky, jealous, and generally not nice. (All you saints out there can begin throwing stones at any …

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Maybe Imperfection Is Okay

May beastly things happen in my stories but not in my writing of them. Eleven stories in to Story-a-Day and my brain seemed to have suffered a structural collapse. I finished the story because, well, Time said to. But what really--no maybe about it--bothers me about this story is what it lacks throughout. A layer …

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Maybe the Ending Is All Wrong

This story may best be forgotten. I have no perspective. How do you get perspective? How do you judge your own work? I can't get a handle on my own neurotic, self-obsessed spinning. But what makes a story a success? When you read a story, how do you know this one works but this one …

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Maybe Characters Do It

Many things may befall your characters, but one of those things, eventually, somewhere, in some story, unless you're writing for children, surely----implied or direct (have I drawn this out enough?), good or bad----is going to be sex. And I'm going to avoid the euphemism "love scene." Plenty of characters aren't in the story for love. …

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“You May Be Right. I May Be Crazy. But I Just May Be the Lunatic You’re Looking for.”

This story may beg the question: is this writer crazy? Okay. I exaggerate. I'm a writer. It's what I do. But be that as it may. It isn't as if I don't know what I'm writing when I write. I do. Sort of. Nonetheless, I get to the end and find myself thinking, "Really? Did …

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Maybe No Passion Whatsoever

The world may benefit from my stories...but that's a bit hard to believe, isn't it? Somewhere in my subconscious must be the belief that sharing what comes out of my head is a good and interesting thing. What evidence is there for this grandiose thinking? The rejection letter received today reads: ‎"Thank you so much …

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