Meditations on the Shiny

Shiny is one of the great drivers of story. It’s the thing that makes you go “Ooh, I want to tell that story!” Shiny is also the thing that makes you say “Ooh, I want to tell that other story!” when you have not yet finished the last one. Shiny is the yin and yang of writing.

Shiny is to writers as balrog is to elves.

I must not shiny. Shiny is the story-killer. Shiny is the little-death that brings total distraction. I will face my shiny. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when the shiny has gone past I will turn the inner eye away from its path and finish the damn story. Where the shiny has gone there will be nothing. Only the current story will remain.

Shiny makes the world go…ooh, is that my tail? *bats at tail*

Don’t go to the shiny!
But it’s sooo beautiful!

Shiny is the butterfly effect of literature.

Shiny is the butterfly of conflict floating above a milling maelstrom of cats.

I can see clearly now the shine is gone. I can see all obstacles in my way.

Is this a shiny I see before me, its sparlky toward my hand?

Alas poor shiny, I knew…is that my tail? *bats at tail*

Hark what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and shiny is the sun…

What’s shiny, my precious? Is it juicy? Gooey? Yucky? Is it….scrumptious?