Status update: about a third done and advancing steadily. Coffee supplies pretty frigging good. A heck of a lot of free time has opened up tonight and this weekend, so I have more time than usual. Since next week may be somewhat hectic, I'm think about getting a head start on the next story, which is probably going to be a horror story of some sort, since I'm getting urges to write another one.
But the one I'm working on now is a sort of weird little detective story, set in the Upper Peninsula where I grew up. I'm fictionalizing the bejeesus out of everything because I don't really want to have any uncomfortable conversations when I get back. I'm thinking of this story already as "The One That Nobody Who Reads It Will Get." It's 50% gumshoe/50% excuse for me to wallow in urban legends and folklore. So, yeah. The gumshoe people will hate it because the detective stuff is a sideline and the people who like fantasy will hate it because there's all this detective crap in the way. Yoopers will just scratch their heads and go back to watching the Packers kick the Lions' butts again.
Me, I don't care. 99% of my audience is myself. If I find myself laughing at something I've written, then I've already reached most of my goals. My best stories--I think--tend to be the ones where I'm not writing to please everybody.
The UP's a pretty odd place, filled with amazing, but extremely eccentric people. It's one of those places that's so cut off, so far off in the backwaters, that it's developed its own unique culture. You could probably write a million books and never scratch the surface.
A lot of the stuff in my story is loosely based on places I grew up near, but a lot of it also comes from my imagination. The fun part is weaving it all in with the real locations and people I know.