Where I go when I don’t want to be anywhere.

I’ve neglected my real reason for having this blog. That is, of course, to keep a record of my writing, submissions, rejections, and so on.

So, with that in mind, I tell you now of two rejections I have received over the past few days. One from Brutarian and one from Fantasy Magazine. Both were form letters, one for a story that has been rejected many times, and one for a fairly new story, that seems to have a uncertain future, like most of my work.

I haven’t been writing much. I am suppose to be working on my novel, but I hardly do. This (the blog), I argue, is writing, and is keeping me limber, but it certainly doesn’t add much to my story, which rots on the vine. The stink, so intense, that it drives me further away with each unwritten line.

Today, I wrote one sentence. And it sucked.

Don’t believe me? Here it is, in all it’s woeful glory:

“What I saw caused me to drop the soda can away from my mouth.”

Told ya.

Anyway, I’m not writing this out of self-pity. And I’m not writing this so other writers can comment on here and say, “Keep your chin up,” or “Don’t give up.”

No. I don’t really need a pep talk, no matter how well-meaning. I just needed to write it down a bit. Ramble on for people that won’t read it. I should probably get a journal and save those who do read here the trouble.

And then there’s the title of this post. Where I go when I don’t want to be anywhere. Well, that’s going to have to remain a mystery. Or a metaphor at least. Or is it symbolism? Whatever.

Chances are, where I go is one of my own business. Ever notice that the way you pronounce business and the way you spell it are different. Busy-ness.

Busy. Ness.

What was I talking about?