Yesterday I got to have the joy of surprising an old college buddy. This is really hard for me to do, as my close college friends really do know me WAY too well. But surprise her I did. How, you might ask? I enlightened her that I have been writing. No, not in this blog, I know she sees that (note: I am apparently a very bad blogger, so...SEE, I am writing...) I have been working on a number of stories (three to be precise, although one hasn't been touched in a while.) Of course, I got my normal scoldings, in that I do not ever intend for anyone to read these stories (except me, of course...) So why, you might ask, do I write them? The answer is: I don't really know. I have a number of stories that I have started, aside from these three, but get deleted after 5 pages. A couple have gotten close to being finished, but none ever quite make it. Sometimes I drag an old one out, and add to it. But I doubt I'll ever finish any of them. Sometimes I just run out of inspiration. Sometimes the plot goes someplace I don't want it to, and so I just stop. I guess it is because I never really PLAN any of the stories. I just get an idea, sometimes its a dream, sometimes it is something I saw or read, and I just start writing. But like a dream, the idea fades. The longest story I have written is about 50 pages in length, and constantly dragged out because it pops into my dreams at times. And, if I give myself time in the morning, I jot the dream down, and incorporate it into the story. But I don't think it'll make sense to anyone but me. After all, since the story is for me, I don't have to develop the characters so someone else can imagine them. I don't need the description. I see them, in my head. And I can already picture what is happening in the scene, since the idea is coming from my little mind. Maybe someday, if I ever end a story, I'll make it readable to someone else. But I doubt it. After all, as I like to tell people: I don't share. ;-)