One of the problems with maintaining a blog on writing is that, sooner or later, you'll be expected to write. On top of that, I'm supposed to be concentrating on short stories... so technically I'm supposed to have at least a few short stories (or at least some strange literary experiments) up here.
The catch is that it takes time to write a short story, and it usually doesn't align with my timings for the usual posts. Normally I try to write something at least once every three or four days, in accordance with my personal ten-posts-a-month quota; what this means is that every three or four days, I can consciously sit down in front of the computer, tell myself that I need to write something, and then pound something out. But you can't give literary efforts a strict time limit -- you have to sit down and hash things out before you even so much as finalize a plotline. In a sense, I don't think I can squeeze stories out of my head and into the confines of my short-term plans.
So yes, I'm trying to write a story. And no, I can't fit it into the two-hour window that I normally have reserved for my blog posts. It'll have to wait, I guess. And in the meantime, I'm stuck giving you this revelation of how I write. It's an ironic conflict, seeing that I can't technicaly write a story whenever I feel like writing a story. It somehow supports the notion that I don't come up with these things on a conscious basis -- the ideas are probably holding cage matches in my head, fighting for the right to be let out. And instead of betting on the strongest, the toughest, or the meanest of the lot, it seems at times that I'm just the guy crawling along the floor looking for used ticket stubs.