I hate when this happens …

Here I am, trying to wind down my instinct to turn everything I think up into a novel, and it’s pulling me back in à la Pacino in The Godfather: Part III.

The truth is, I’d rather stop thinking about novels I might one day write. Just look at my “6 stillborn novels”; I mean, I might as well go back and work on one of those instead of thinking up new ones. But no, my brain keeps shoveling new ideas into the hopper, and I have to go through the motions of recording them. Just in case.

But why? Each new idea represents a painfully long haul in terms of development and writing, then attempting to publish. Hunting for an agent. Hoping to get lucky. Then self-publishing when I get my teeth kicked out of my head yet again. (And by the way, maybe I’ll have an agent update soon, since two agents are currently reading my full manuscript ….)

Anyway, yes. It happened again. I got a new idea. I’ve written a few notes for later consultation.

And I dearly hope I never have to sit down and actually write the thing, because as one of my characters in Parts Unknown says in ironic deadpan (because he’s dead), “Life’s too short.”