Floating Foam

Next week, I’m going to take a writing vacation. Not a vacation from writing, but one for writing.

I’m going to check into a hotel room in a nearby town and clack away at my laptop for 24 straight hours. When I’m done, I’ll either have the makings of a complete work of fiction, or an epic blog entry of failure.

Four Things I’m bringing:

1. Computer
2. Toothbrush/toothpaste
3. Deoderant
4. Whiskey

Four Things I’m not bringing:

1. Xbox
2. Books/Magazines
3. Aspirin (one should pay for ones crimes)
4. Misconceptions

I’ve never done anything like this, but whenever I have written anything substantial, it has always involved me barricading myself away for many consecutive hours.

The story I will be developing is called “Flesh Pets,” something I’ve had in the chute for many years. I’ve been roughing it out over the past few months, so I feel prepared to lay it down now (or at least make the attempt).

It’s much larger than anything I’ve done in the past, and I have a pretty detailed vision of it in the parts of my brain that have not retired.

Flesh Pets is the story of a man who is held responsible for creating the single greatest and most horrific scientific breakthrough in his generation. It is told from his perspective, both in the present and the past. Originally, the story focused on the results of his invention, but as I’ve gotten older, it has turned into a story about a man attempting to bring light to the darker parts of himself (metaphorically speaking, of course).

Those of you who have known me, or floatingfoam for a while, might remember an incarnation of this story that I began serializing years ago. The story was too big for me then, and my work on it felt lifeless. I hadn’t yet identified the man, only the hook on which the story would be hung.

Now, the story feels like a wall of hooks, rather than one, giving the contrived a blessed splash of subtlety and humanism.

I will report back after I go on my trip