Writing as compulsion

I’d like to say if ever I were to write a serious book about the work of W. Somerset Maugham, I would call it Writing as Compulsion: Maugham and the… No, I can’t come up with anything. If I could have conned up a subtitle, this post would be a lot different. Instead it’s just going to be a project status update. I haven’t decided to quit doing Summing-Up yet, which is sort of surprising. I’m feeling overambitious on The Stop Button. I even killed off a side project I hadn’t decided what to do with yet. The last one is because the world is terrible and I’ve never wanted to play Vonnegut. When it comes to fiction writing, I always shot—this is my short fiction writing, not the novels. I was at least sincere with the novels. I wasn’t sincere with the short stories. Not until I got called on it in MFA school. In terms of creative compulsion, blogging is a lot more my speed. And has been for a while. The world needs people to reference early eighties Spider-Man stickers too. Not just the ditch diggers. On that inglorious and incredibly specialized reference note, I’m deciding not to do four Summing-Up posts a day. It’s not the time for experiments in a thorough but still somewhat lazy process examination. But I’m not giving up on it. I’m just going to one post a day. Three hundred and fifty-two words. 352 words. Stream of consciousness nonsense I never really liked even though I did have my Henry Miller period in undergrad, which didn’t do me much good because I was too hung up on it as its reality contrasted forties Hollywood movies. That point in undergrad, I was still working my way through a lot of old movies. I’m still reading a Maugham a month and doing the chapter-by-chapter commentary on it. 352 words is a lot without any paragraphs, so I’m not sure I’m going to be able to hack it without. I might even try some structure. Or I might completely ignore these resolutions tomorrow and go back to the way it was yesterday with a questionable post about why I’m wrong right now.

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