Just got back from the dentist’s office where my six-month cleaning went extremely well. The dentist yukked it up with the hygenist, teasing her that her job was too easy with teeth as clean as mine. They gave me a free toothbrush and floss because I was in such good shape. Amy informs me that they give these items to everyone. Perhaps…but with such aplomb?

I’m over 1,000 words into “The Wendigo Killers” and came to a crashing halt as I realized that I started the story in the wrong place. If I have one massive problem writing (and I have a sneaking suspicion that I have more than one) it’s beginnings. I always want to start three or four beats after the song has begun. Why is that? I guess it’s good that I at least recognize it.

For a good read (especially about writing) check out my Clarion compatriate John Schoffstall’s blog. John received a great post-Clarion-depression shot in the ass when he arrived home to find out he’d won the L. Ron Hubbard Writer’s of the Future Contest. A few short weeks later, he had a story published at Fortean Bureau. It’s called Clockwork Dragons Must Die and it’s good stuff.

I especially appreciate John’s frank admission (see his Oct. 7 blog) that he has no clue how to write a story. I have been suffering from similar myopia since returning from Clarion. I have no problem producing fluff writing but I’m having a much more difficult time trying to get something out that carries any weight.

My guess? Clarion raised the bar. I can see the problems in my writing much more clearly now and I can try to fix them. But when I hold it up against the stuff I think is good, the kinds of stories I find moving and impressive, the kinds of stories I want to write, I find my own stuff lacking in so many ways. I’ve got a much better idea of what makes stories good. It’s much harder to make my stories that good.