Monday, 19 September 2016

Coldheart

I had one of those perfect dreams where you wake up and every detail is so crystal clear to you, so much so that you can write down every bit and then sit back and reflect on what a messed up subconscious you must have. I had a dream, and the dream had a name, and the name was Coldheart. I dreamt an entire Landsdale-esque short story, or a film, and it was glorious.

But the thing is, I wrote every detail down and now the actual content eludes me. I remember it so well, the one-handed assassin with a heart of gold, the disgraced-police-officer-turned-long haul-trucker, and the new sheriff in town whose medical affliction is the undercurrent for not only the name of the story, but also the mystery he must solve.

I wish I could write my own god damn ideas. Everything seems to be done before, every genre sucked dry of anything you could hope to bring to the game. I guess I'm frustrated with nowhere to really vent, so that's why I'm doing it here, for posterity's sake.

I really like this story, but getting it down on paper is going to be an uphill battle, which makes me feel like it won't be a good story. Anything forced will read as forced, and that's not what I want to do with my time. But then maybe I have to kick myself up the arse to get these things done, power through, and get something that I think could be great to a place where it can be great.

I'll have a tinker and see what I come up with. Frustrating though, isn't it?

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