I also came up with two new short story ideas, since I've been trying to do the daily writing habit.

This one was inspired from a freewrite I did yesterday afternoon.

A struggling woman writer is dying of some kind of cancer. She had on radiation treatment, but the doctors are unsure if it was successful. Her health is bad and the prognosis is not good.

An old friend, a famous writer, comes to visit her and gives her a pen and inkwell. The friend tells her that the pen and inkwell saved her life, when she too was diagnosed with cancer. The famous writer friend tells the woman to make sure to write every day because writing is healing.

The woman thanks her friend, and starts to write with the magic pen and inkwell that night in her journal. The woman followed her firend's advice and remarkably, she starts to feel stronger and in the next few weeks her health improves dramatically. The doctors are amazed and declare the radiation treatment a success. There is still some chance that the cancer could come back, but the doctors say that the chances are very, very slim.

Relieved by the good news, the woman calls the famous writer friend to chat and finds out her friend is dying. The woman goes to visit her friend in the hospital, and finds out that it was the magic pen and inkwell that kept her friend alive. That she too had cancer, and the writing instruments kept the cancer at bay as long as she wrote every day.

Guilt ridden, the woman vows to give the pen and inkwell back but the famous writer friend refuses. "I have had my success and my fame, it's your turn now. And after you have your success and fame, there will come a time to pass on the pen and inkwell to another dying writer friend, as I have done to you as was done to me." The famous writer friend dies a few minutes later.

Racked by guilt, the woman goes home that night and doesn't write. After a week of not writing, the woman feels her body becoming weaker. She goes to the doctor, and after testing the doctor tells her that the cancer started growing again.

A few more weeks pass and the woman is now very weak, and contemplating another round of chemotherapy. Unable to face more treatment, she decides to start writing again and instantly feels better.

A week passes, and the woman's health improves dramatically and the doctors tells her that miraculously she had a spontaneous remission.

In a year the woman starts publishing and becomes a famous author, which was her childhood dream. The woman decides that while the pen and inkwell are a gifit, they are also a curse. She doesn't know if she's a famous writer because of her writing, or because of the writing instruments.

But she decides to keep on writing, in hopes that one day be able to pass the writing instruments to someone else.

I finished a short story last night. It's one I started in 2000 called "The Blue Haired Buddha on Union Street", but never finished. I rewrote an outline on 9/3/2003, and started writing it onTuesday.

Writing for me is much easier if I have an outline. It takes awhile for me to come up with an outline, but once it's done the writing is relatively easy.

Sticking to the outline was hard in the beginning. My first writing attempt on Tuesday went off outline, and my writing became bogged down. I think I wrote myself into a corner.

On Wednesday, I reread my outline and did a freewrite about what the story was supposed to be about. Then I did another character interview, and I was able to get back on track.

I was reading some material on Joyce Carol Oates, and how productive she was, is. The woman is manic about writing. One of my writing teachers knew her when she was young, and he said that Oates could write a short story in a day, and on a typewriter at that.

Some critics have said that she may be too productive, and that perhaps if she slowed down her quality would be better. Quality can be debated, but I don't think anyone can deny that she is one of the finest writers of her generation.

I don't think I'll ever have Oates' work habits, but she is a role model I can learn from and emulate.

I went to the art exhibit, and spoke to the guy from art class for a bit. He and his wife, who is also in the class, recognized me.

I teased him and said that I might write a paper about him and his exhibit, if I could figure out a way to tie into class. He said if I did, to make sure I gave him a copy.

Art class guy and I started talking about his exhibit, and he said something about what his exhibit meant, and I ended up countering, "No I think this is what you meant ..." I wonder if all artists cringe when a total stranger contradicts you and says "no your art doesn't mean that, it means this." I hope I didn't freak him out.

While walking to the bus stop, I started composing a very political art review in my head. His exhibit was very anti-Iraq war. I tentatively titled my essay, "Were Satre and Warhol right? The Celebrity of War: Reflections on the art of so and so".

It would be fun to write a SF Bay Guardian type, left wing political review of art class guy's exhibit. Never mind that I supported the US led war in Iraq, I could write an anti war piece. That ultra left wing hippie education of mine has to come in handy for something.

I told art class guy that my dad took me to my first political protest when I was 12, and I wore black armbands when Reagan was elected. I got hippie left wing street cred!

If I write it, I'll post it. I think it will be fun for me to exercise my writing brain and try to write an essay about what some guy's art exhibit means. I could quote Sartre, Warhol, and I might even throw a David Mamet quote in because I'd love to fit a "Wag the Dog" reference in, and argue how Andy Warhol's pop art birthed that concept and movie.

My modern art teacher loves to say that art and society in general is still influenced by Andy Warhol's pop art philosophy and vision, so I've got to work those Andy Warhol references in when I can.

I'm having adventures in faxing. I just tried faxing 18 pages to my screenwriting teacher, who happens to be surfing in Hawaii at the moment.

My stupid company fax machine cannot seem to fax more than 2 pages at a time. I should have just stuck with Winfax Pro software, instead of asking for a printer/fax/copy combo machine.

It prints and copies fine, but fax. Hell no! Unless faxing is some kind of gift from God that I just never got because I was too busy standing in the "great writer" gift line, which by the way I'm starting to think was one of those scam in heaven lines because writing is just way too hard for me.

I'm sure the hotel people in Hawaii are having fun with the dozens of faxes I sent.