I want to go back in time and tell myself that someday Joey Potter will have Lestat's baby just to gauge my reaction.

Been working on a couple of writing projects lately. The problem with these longer works is that they take too long to finish. The good thing about short stories is that they're done in a week or two, allowing one to begin work on something new fairly quickly, but the bad thing about them (or at least my short stories) is that nobody likes them and I can't sell them for the world so I pretty much end up just having them sit there and collect virtual dust on my hard drive. Hell, I think I'm going to post one on Scary-Crayon -- should give readers something to look over while I spend more time focusing on these pieces. Trimming will probably make them significantly shorter once I've finished the initial drafts (and continuity correction and the addition of stuff I think is missing will likely prompt me to make additions here and there), but I've got 12,500 words on the one and 1000 words on the other. The other, you see, I started during a period of inactivity on the first -- which would've simply been a period of FREEDOM had it been a short story. I think even my longest short story barely tops 6000 words.

The joke here is that I'll probably be unable to sell the longer pieces too, but at least I can request that they be read in full during my funeral proceedings. I don't want to be embalmed or anything either and I want the casket open, goddamnit, so all in attendance can watch me rot in the sun as the books are read aloud. Pay attention, children, and ignore the buzzing of the flies.

(Update: "Hazel Wheatkettle's Dying Wish" is up on Scary-Crayon if anyone is interested in reading. It is kinda sad.)