I’d like to write a Christmas short story – in fact, I’ve started it. I have the characters, and the setting, and the plot, even the main working scenes and an idea for the cover, and yet for some reason, the story just doesn’t want to go anywhere. I don’t know if it’s because there isn’t any snow yet, or if the characters aren’t inspiring, but I can’t seem to focus on them, to make them real in my mind, and I figure if I can’t get excited about them, a reader certainly won’t. In the meantime, the idea for another full-length story popped into my head this morning. I can picture the opening scene, picking blueberries on Powerline Pass near Anchorage on a rare sunny day in August. Of course, the only ones who love blueberries more than people are bears, and they’re not good at sharing. This story wants to be written. So, I figure I’ll go with the muse and start the new story. I’ll take notes and plan the story, writing little scenes as I picture them. I’ll spend some ...
