The mind is the only muscle, you can excercise, while doing nothing.

Although the title would lead one to think otherwise, this is not a missive about sloth. Nor is it an essay on laziness and the mental benefits obtained therein. It intimates how an idea hit me, and what I was doing,m when it did. Like most of my idea, they come in the midst of me doing something mindless, or repetitive, or pointless, like watching television. And while watching an episode of "Law & Order: SVU", my mind mused on the possibility of writing short stories, and posting them on my blog. Now, I don't want to do this for notice, or exposure...
(which in someways flies in the face of writing a blog entry about writing short stories, that aren't for the purpose of exposure...can you see the cyclical insanity this generates?)
...I want to do this to get them out of my head, and if anyone wanted to read them, especially my friends and family, here they would be, for all to see, ad infinitum internetis. So, in the coming days, weeks, or months, I intend to post whether weird, interesting, amusing, dark, depraved story enters my brain, and post it here. I'm hoping that in so doing, I'll become a better writer, and in turn, write better. And so on, and so on, and so on...

Sundance, and the freefall of all ideas.

I'm swimming in a chilly lake of cliches. I'm sitting in a Starbucks, sipping on a fine cup of bold coffee, and working on my screenplay for the Sundance Director's Program, Screenwriters Lab.

Now with my knitted cap on my head and finely trimmed goatee on my chin, I look around me and notice at least eight others, swimming in the same chilly lake.

And as I return my attention to my screenplay, which I deeply hope isn't chockful of the same cheesey goodness that the cliche I unwittingly affect, would suggest.

Damn, I gotta find a dive bar, and get in a fight, just to save my soul from mediocrity.