Fleshing Out

I’m doing a bunch of work today on getting this site up and running while I’m still interested in it. As will follow shortly on the about page, this project is in large part to fulfill a requirement for a writing class I’m currently enrolled in. Professor Hunter was nice enough to give us broad definitions of ‘documents’ we needed for the project, so this website will be it. Considering that he only wants 10-12 pages and I’m interested in writing another short story set in Wilson anyway, that requirement should be cake.

So far today, I’ve posted three stories, all of which were written for an advanced fiction writing class I took last semester (This is Wisconsin, and the way people rampantly misuse the word ‘took’ for instances when ‘taken’ would be appropriate has made me loath to use the word even in its correct settings. Curse you, classical conditioning!). It’s probably telling that the only things I’ve written that aren’t fanfic were done as a requirement for class. Yet another reason to crank out a third Wilson story.

Today’s three posted works are Wilson, Wisconsin and You’re Going to Fit In Just Fine, which I’ve always thought of as the first and last chapters in the Wilson saga. At the moment, anything I write would be placed squarely between those two. For example, the piece I’m kicking around in my mind and about one good hook away from putting to paper, tentatively titled Everybody Knows Everybody Here, would follow immediately after Wilson, WI and hopefully introduce more of the town. I really should have written it when I was back home in Monroe, the town Wilson’s based on, but I was busy with friends.

The third posted story today is A Dark and Stormy Night, which was written between Wilson and its sequel. I think the humor’s the same style as my other stuff, but it’s more based in meta-humor. I’m convinced at this point that my other settings will only break the fourth wall due to dramatic irony. I love a good fourth wall break, but I’d rather not tear a hole in reality in my one big continuity.

Did that come off as narcissisticly as it sounded to me? Two short stories doesn’t make a continuity for anyone but a high school Mary Sue writer, and I like to think I’m better than that. Oh, well. If I can’t get excited about my works, I can’t expect anyone else to.


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