The Vagina StoryWell now. I've totally surprised myself by writing a story that can only be defined as disgusting. No, no, it's not the one titled "Infant Rain" that I mentioned in a previous post -- that one's kind of sweet in a weird, horrifying sort of way -- I'm talking about one that I started while writing "Infant Rain." I like to work on a few stories at a time, which is unfortunate because I often get excited over the new one and forget the old one, and Jesus Christ, I'm not blessed with a robotic brain and am only able to work, really work, on one story at a time. But the ideas beg to be thrown about, and I aim to please.
I've got twelve, fifteen stories in progress sweating it out on my hard drive right now, poor things, and I feel terrible about ignoring them the way I do. Especially my weird little neon-eyed babies falling from the sky one, but anyway.
The disgusting one demanded all my attention these past few days. Boy howdy, it's as if this story was penned by a man named Jed, a poor mountaineer, barely kept his family fed, then one day he was shootin' at some food, and up through the ground came a bubblin' crude.
The strange thing about this story is that, oh, about 1500 words into it, I discovered a brand new magazine that it would be perfect for. The most difficult part of writing, for me, is finding suitable markets, so this is cool beans, man.
Hmmm. Synchronicity? Maybe. More like I'm just a big old gross Jed who, by some extraordinary luck, found another big old gross Jed who might pay me money for a disgusting vagina story. One can only hope.