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September update on my book: No updates

I've completely stalled out on my post apocalyptic comedy book as of late.  I got past the halfway mark of my first draft a few months ago and haven't written a word for it since.  I fear this means it's not actually a compelling story, because if it was, I should be able to finish it without getting distracted - right?

And then I remind myself that's just the laziness talking.  At least, I sure hope it is.  If not, then I've got bigger problems.  I get distracted from a lot of my books halfway through.

When I have the time to write, I try not to waste it.  So I've been either doing a bit of revisions on Born Loser (look for it on Amazon in about a week or so) or working on one of my other projects, such as "There's Something Strange About Mr. Brickwell," a young adult science-fiction comedy.  At one point I was even working on a screenplay, and I swore I'd never work on one of those again unless one of my books became a bestseller.

This week might be the lowest point of the year.  I've spent an inordinate amount of time brainstorming ideas for a vague chance-themed story about a bum.  There's no title, not much of a plot, and very thin characterization.  Yet I'm enchanted by this loose premise I thought of, and I want to work on it so badly I'm willing to ignore all the actual work in front of me.

The concept is that a bum is flagged down by a limo one afternoon and a well-dressed, mysterious man offers him a large sum of money to hop on a private flight to Europe and assume a false identity for an evening.  Shenanigans ensue.

Do I know what those shenanigans are?  No.  Is it going to be a comedy, a thriller, an adventure?  I don't know.  Is the guy in the limo a villain?  Probably, but who knows.

There's just so much allure.  It's mysterious enough that it hooks you, plus you've got the wish fulfillment of being handed a bunch of money for very little work, plus you have the freedom to go in pretty much any direction you want.  The mysterious guy could be working for the CIA, or he could be part of a terrorist cell, or he could be a political figure, or maybe he's a CEO with some complicated scheme to screw his shareholders, or maybe he's a crime lord.  Or maybe he's not a bad guy at all.  Maybe he's a philanthropist, but things go awry and the bum sees him as an antagonist anyway.

So I've been coming up with various plots to fulfill this premise instead of, y'know, working.  It's very frustrating.

One of the most ironic twists of fate is that the presidential election is as volatile and closely-polled as it is right now.  A large chunk of my post apocalyptic book is modeled after the flagrant hypocrisy of right-wing politicians who scapegoat immigrants, and in fact the main reason I started writing the book when I did was because the first wave of Republican primary debates had just gone underway and proven how disgusting that party can be.

Fast forward to today.  You would think that an orange colostomy bag stuffed into a human suit winning the nomination and somehow maintaining a close margin with Clinton would be good inspiration for a book about the end of the world.  But I'm tapped out right now.  Maybe I'm just too depressed.

I guess what I'm saying is, I should post another update in mid-November.