My God, it's full of stars!

What the hell is the matter with me? Eh? This weekend I had another storyline jump into my brain, dance around a bit, put it's feet up on all of the furniture, drink from the milk carton, and then set up for an extended stay in the spare bedroom. The Life and Death of Michael S.: A Posthumous Autobiography, by Kathryn S. Yep, that's the title. It's about this woman who finds her estranged brother's unpublished papers after his suicide. The papers include diaries, letters, emails, a few short stories published in various obscure journals and 'zines, and a first draft of a manuscript. She edits the papers, includes her own comments, and publishes the collection as a biographical examination of Michael's life. He was a drug addict and secretly bisexual. The black sheep, he had not communicated with his family for years. His stories, largely SFF, carry double and hidden meanings with relevance to his own life and family. There's also a lot of his frustration with the publishing industry and the lack of concern for art, the difficulty of writing and getting published.

Hmm, this sounds like an artsy-fartsy book. Anyway, it's now on back burner. (Part of the reason why I blog about these ideas is to preserve them for when I can work on it).