Hey, TBC readers.

I know the title means different things to every writer. For me it is ideas. There are writers who hunt ideas desperately. I am desperate because I am hunted by ideas.

"Just how?" you might ask. Well, it is hard to concentrate on writing one serial or story and now and then ideas pop into your mind that bug the hell out of you. Every new idea I get there is this impulse to start writing it as a story. I am getting better at controlling said impulses, but it is no wonder I have about three dozen stories started and never finished.

I am still wondering how other people deal with those. It isn't helping that my writing time is limited. Normally I write in my commute to or from work. I love my work, but there are some tasks that are ... boring. And in this lull, they are stalking and hunting me: ideas! If worse comes to worse I have hours alone with them. Usually enough to create a whole basic plot in my head and a first draft about the characters. It is so hard to not start writing a story when you have all that on hand. Well, or on the mind.

If it isn't a new idea, then it doesn't mean I am safe. Nope. Old ideas are only waiting patiently their time to strike again. And by now they are a small army. Of course, old ideas usually have already a storyline in my head. So if I am left alone with an oldie they usually get more details. And with it the urge to write them rises.

By now I guess you are thinking "Cassy talks big, but are there really that many?" Let's do a breakdown.

194 general ideas.
5 in the Mercy-verse (The Lokian Way)
6 sequels to short stories I already posted (that aren't part of a verse)
3 in the "Little Stump Manor" verse (sequels to "What A Troublesome Ghost"
3 sequels in the "The Totalitarian Society You Will Love"
7 in "The Bending Frontier" (space opera sci-fi / no magic)
1 in the "Reality Storm" verse (Three already written and to be published soon)
2 in the "Don't Drink And Genderbend" verse
2 in the "Arti" verse (first story about 50% done)
9 in the "Undesirable Classes" verse (and a few more vague ideas)
4 in the "Plant Punk" verse (like cyberpunk but with plants instead of cyber)
6 in the "Dimension Mages" verse (one story already posted, but only as first part of a trilogy)
2 in the "Suit Yourself" verse (sci-fi bodysuits)
6 in "Caverns And Dungeons" verse (Same verse as "The Fatale")
5 more in the "Tales Of Heirloom Gems" verse
4 in the "Nuty" verse (Urban Sci-Fi, one is a potential long-running serial)
3 in "Women Needed" verse (Urban Fantasy)
4 in "Magic Radio"
3 in "Nymphlings!!!" verse (fantasy/humor)
2 in the "U.P.P.P.S." verse (United Pixie and Ponygirl Postal Service)
5 in the "Chaos Seeds" verse
7 in Morpheus "Legacy" verse (I know gals. It's a closed verse. A girl still can dream though.)
3 in Morpheus "Great Shift" verse
1 in Morpheus "Twisted" verse

That's a long list. Still with me? Not nodded off halfway through? Good. Or bad. Anyway. I am open to advise from other authors. How are you dealing with more ideas than you can handle? Because I enjoyed some quiet time while writing "The Lokian Way". But now that it is over the ideas are rushing me again. Trying to make up for lost time? Don't know.

Anyway. Time to end this blog post. Before I used to post a synopsis for some of my story ideas. With mixed success. So I decided on something else: flash fiction! What are those? Very very short stories. I find them too small to post them as an individual story so maybe here is a good place for them. Let me know how you like it.

Without further ado here is the first one.

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Survival At All Cost
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Derek was a survivor. Had to be. Where he grew up you either learn to survive or die trying. The welfare slums were a hard place to grow up. Those who did, they learned hard lessons.

He did everything to survive. Ran with the bad crowd if it meant a full stomach and a roof over his head. Crime was his daily bread.

Never once had he attended some protest or rally. Fouls errant. That's what get you killed, or worse, imprisoned.

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Derek jerked up as shots rang out. Another of his gang died miserably somewhere in this godforsaken mall. The job should have been easy. Break into a mall for the rich. Steal some shit. Make it out.

The last part fell through. Now they were trapped with no way out. Armed security guards sweeping shop by shop. Putting an end to his friend's lives.

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But Derek had a plan. He always had one. By now he wasn't even on plan B or even X, Y, or Z. More like plan triple-Z-holy-shit-I-hope-this-works.

He drew another deep breath and twitched as his leg moved just a little. There the bullet wound wasn't making this any easier. He guessed the blood would lead his executioners right to him. Rather sooner than later. All the way to this little shop of high-end sleazy delight. They would find him behind the display for the newest sex-bot money could buy.

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It was a ridiculous thing. No woman had such plum lips or massive knockers. It looked fake and artificial. Testimony to how desperate Derek was. Now he trusted a shoddy cortical implant and a faulty cable to work long enough to upload his consciousness into this abomination.

A flashlight swiped the shop. It came to rest on him. This was it. The end. Dereks run on survival and life coming to an abrupt conclusion. Defiant he looked up along the barrel of the gun that would kill him and into the masked face of his murderer.

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BANG!

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Hey there.
Cassy again here. If you like the basic premise then good news. I am nearly done with a story having nearly the same premise, but in a different setting.
I hope you get to read it soon.

Until next time.
Hugs and kisses,
Cassy