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Building my writing muscles

I'm having an interesting time learning how to write. I thought my ideas would spring fully-formed out of my forehead, but what I'm seeing now is it's more like a pen of puppies in Darwinian combat, tussling with each other, growing bigger and stronger until one of them reaches critical mass and I have to pick her up out of the pen and take her home with me. I have a pretty constant stream of idea coming out - the Madness musical actually set me off with several, and then over dinner last night with J a few more percolated out - but they just seem to need a whole lot more care and feeding before they're actually ready for me to work on them.

Last night's idea - kicked off by the Madness musical - is Space Age Love Songs. It's a romance between a boy and a girl living in a dystopian future where they're being brought up at a school for clones/replicants/meat puppets/"mandroids" - he's a robot in love with this girl who works there as a cleaner. He is being trained for a horrible job in the mines of the moon - I imagine this being Roy Beatty's childhood - then after discovering a horrible conspiracy/saving the world, comes back to Earth to be with his love - only to discover they were both part of an experiment in which human and clone "children" were switched to prove that clone education does actually produce human-normal responses in its subjects. And she's a clone and has to go work off-planet as a prostitute, and is taken away from him forever.

But then I thought I could blend this with another story I've been thinking about, which is about me growing up and being an unloved nerdy goth in Phoenix, my friends and romantic fancies all being gay men, and I'll just switch back and forth between one story and another. The end will be college, or something. There will be lots of excellent 80s music. I'm excited. I think I may be ready to write.

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