I have severe urgings to post what little (two pages) of that short story I've been writing here, but I know that I shouldn't because that crap piece of literature is unpolished, unedited for grammar AND conventions, and the rhythm of the words is more or less non-existant. And it's ugly.

I hate pacing. Always have problems with it. Especially since I really started writing back when I was getting into Anne Rice and her notoriously descriptive style. What can I say, it kinda rubbed off on me. But then, somehow, there was a sudden fusion of Hemmingway that effectively killed any adverbs that decided to show up... Won't even mention the plethora of complex sentence structures...

At least it's only a short story. I'd have absolutely no patience nor stamina to write a full-length novel -- even a novella would be something short of hell.

My imagination races and I can visualize what I want to describe, but my mind shoves a nice dam on any streams of thought to pick out the perfect words and the perfect phrasing... which never really suit the situation. So, my fingers are even slower to record the words that my mind produces.

In the end, the story has already finished itself without being written down, and my mind loses interest in the story because (in some horribly selfish way) it has already been told.

Need to get one of those tape recorders to talk into... That way I can get said flood of thoughts out without worrying about how it'll look on paper without having to let go of the bit of incense between my fingers.

Hrm. And this is why I paint/draw. Much easier to convey meaning that way.

But this story is begging to get out and be shared.