Sometimes I’ll come across a story I felt compelled to write and then just let languish in my files. It’s not necessarily a "bad" story, but it’s not quite "good" enough or ready to send out for possible publication – sometimes I will take these stories and fix them to send out. Sometimes I don’t want to, for various reasons: maybe I just like it as it is, simple and true, maybe I’m busy working on other things and the years pass and the story stays lost in my files until once again I come across them, look at them, love the character, and after I read again, I think, “Poor little character, stuck here in my files, poor story.”
I did that today with Pudgy. Pudgy’s been hanging around for years. He first came to me at a writer’s conference in Houma, Louisiana. I was waiting for a panel discussion and I couldn’t get this kid out of my head. So, I wrote up something and forgot about it. Long time later, I found it and typed it up. Long time later I found it in my lost files and fiddled with it. Long time later, which is today, I found it again – mainly because what I thought was Pudgy kept talking to me while I walked on the mountain this morning—I saw him sitting on some steps waiting alone until it was dark, and he said to me, “let me out! Here I am!” So, I went in to change Pudgy. But something happened. As I read, I realized I could not change Pudgy at all. He had to stay where he was. The other voice must be another character asking to be written.
I decided I’d take my lost stories that languish in my files, those that I may never publish, and publish them on my site. Why not? If someone gets joy or loves the character with me, then that’s better than the story forever hidden.
Pudgy, this gentle little sad story with a gentle little ending, is HERE: PUDGY. Read if you like. Don’t read if you like. Pudgy is what it is. The story is simple. I have nothing more I want to say. Nothing more I want to write. Especially not when so many other voices are begging me to write them. I sometimes just have to let some stories be. So then, once in a while, I will post a long lost story from my long lost files.
For those of you wondering where Clementine has gone—she is in hiding right now. Too much static in the way because of happenings at Pen to Press. Static. Voices. Noises. I can’t get her to come out. She is stubborn. But, more, she knows I have some things to do. She waits. She’ll be tapping at my head again, oh yes. They always do. They always come. Always always. I can’t shut them up. I can’t make them stop. But, I don’t want them to stop, this I know.