WRITING: Oooooh…White Lightning!

Gazpacho‘s done as much it can be.  It was submitted because I felt comfortable that it had gone as far as it could in its best direction. 

Now I think When The Crows Gather is at that point (though I did find that little technical glitch luckily, even after I had rewritten and edited and redirected for a week and called it done) as well.

So I turned my attention back to one of my favorites that had also been sitting in the "Finished Stories" folders on the hard drive.  Few. Hmmm.  I’m already up to Draft #8, and I don’t renumber a draft for minor changes.  I’d forgoten that I had actually done a lot of work on changing it a while ago.  In reading that latest draft, I didn’t feel too bad about it; I really liked what I’d done with it so far.  So what needed to be changed?  Well, there ere a few things I saw and started working on, but there was nothing that obviously hit me.

But then, just a few minutes ago, in one of those dark garage, coffee and a smoke moments, it did hit me.  What this story needed perhaps–and this I had played around with a bit in my mind–was a conversation between Few, the garbage heap, and Raggyman, the wandering college student, that revealed them a bit more, that forged a bond.  The answer came to me:  Marquez and his Remedios.   Or perhaps Octavio Paz and his story, My Life With the Wave.

Can a surreal character intelligently discuss surrealism?   Or is he in fact the best choice. 

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