fin. (la fin).

The End.

Yup.  It is the end of the semester.  Tonight is my last class.  My notebook is together, but I think I am going to run up to Staples so I can get some page dividers.  I have printed out my journal entries - all 50 of them.  Gathered my rough and final drafts.  Now all that's left is the one-page analysis of my work.  That comes next.  Eh, later...

So what then?  When the day is done?  The copy editing course starts January 18th, I think - is that a Thursday?  And that will be good.  Different.  Not necessarily going to get me writing though.  Keep me writing.  I like having little mini goals.

I think the next step will have to be to take my "final drafts,"  which are more like less shitty "first drafts," and keep going with them.  Specifically, Ain't Life Grand.  But that clown thing is enticing.  And could there be a story in the octogenarian writing group riddled with Alzheimers, canes, and memories?  There is a good possibility.

The next prompt in the Gotham Writers' Workshop book is to think of a character, some kind of performer - actor, singer, magician - who has hit middle age and is finding that his career is now mostly faded glory. 

Easy, right?  I mean instantly the character comes to mind.  But there is not much invention in that.  Maybe the art in it is infusing it with invention, like a few blogs back where I came up with a list.  The next directions were to see how the best idea might be worked (or reworked) into an idea that eventually might become a story.

Ideas are easy to come by.  Sticking with an idea long enough to make it sing, now that's the hard part.

So, this may be the end, but it's certainly not - The End.

fin.