Piles and Piles...

On my computer there are dozens of unfinished stories from back when I was doing my HND, which incidentally was remarkably easy. They just sit there, lurking and muttering and waiting to be completed. Why do they remain unfinished? It's a tricky question, especially when there's no lack of opportunity. Some people are just afraid of finishing things, of succeeding or not, of making the last few steps across the finishing line. IT's crippling, paralysing and demoralising. Also, a lot of those stories were begun by a much happier and crazier person, so finishing them requires a mass of revisions both written and personal before new content even hits the page. However, with Quirky Muffin 500 approaching, maybe it's time to dust off another one and finish it, just as occurred with 'Clomp Squared'. Oh, 'Clomp Squared', you will eventually have a lot to answer for...

Piles and piles of unfinished stories, a fear of finishing, a fear of having become less crazy, and a habit for procrastination. It's hardly a recipe for success, especially when you add consistent interview failures and a dodgy spell of lecturing into recent work history. Plainly, any sensible person would go hide in a hole and become spelean, not book a TEFL course and try to build his way out with only misguided optimism and a radical plan to make 'Secret Of Monkey Island' jokes at every opportunity. Yes, you too can call me Bobbin Threadbare!

spelean: cave-dwelling

Back to stories, maybe it won't just be one that gets finished. Perhaps it's time to really dig into the backlog against the backdrop of supply work after the holidays, and whatever else is in the pipeline. It can be part of Operation Elimination, details of which will remain undisclosed until the last Quirky Muffin reader is carted off to a funny farm and the blog is converted into an encyclopedic webpage for all you want to know about white sand. Is that obscure enough? No? Mutter mutter. People are hard to please. I would call them 'children's stories', but we're really talking about tales that go here, there and everywhere, and fit in no box whatsoever.

What kind of different life must all you people out there who like finishing things lead? Is it fun? Are you still terrified of success, with all the changes and responsibilities that it entails, or is that all part of the fun? Oh, humans! We're an intractably confusing bunch, aren't we? Enough of all this mock introspection and pretend contemplation of the weirdness of the species, for it is time to get back to text polishing and passive absorption of 'The Mentalist' and 'The Six Million Dollar Man'. Ah, classic shows...

O.