![[an old ex-rider]](self-picture.jpeg)
I make a distinction: storyteller vs. storymaker. I don't tell my stories, I make them. I have sat in a library as enthralled as the little kids sitting around a skilled storyteller. Crimeney! I can feel the cold wind under my collar! I get goosebumps as the wolf creeps near. I sneeze when the villain throws pepper in the hero's face. Geez! What a skill!
Not me! I make stories. I make them lying in bed going to sleep. I make them when I know I need an excuse and don't have one. But I make them at my keyboard too.
Over 800 at least. Nearly 900 by one count. Many.
Golly! If I could sell them for $50 apiece, I'd be rich for a weekend!
And I don't know how I do it except sorta. I sit at my computer and stare at a blank screen and sometimes almost panic. What if the magic doesn't happen this time? And then a phrase occurs to me and I type it in quickly. Well, as quickly as I type. A real typist would sniff. I'm faster than a hunt'n'pecker, but "words per minute" is a measure of which I am in awe. On a good day, I keep typing, almost as if I was revealing what some spirit dictated. On a scary day, I type and wait, type and wait, repeat. But the draft of a story emerges. Sometimes it takes several days to finish a story. For instance, when it turns out to be a long story. Or especially if the beginning of another intrudes. Hence the roughly 1200 unfinished stories.
But damn I'm glad I do this! It keeps me entertained, and I pretend hundreds, maybe thousands of others are entertained too.
Try out my oldest story and see if you are.
But try out the rest of the website too.
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