I have been dashing off (1) very short short stories daily (2) for two solid weeks now. If you wonder why, take a peek back to last week’s post where I explained all this already.
This has been, as I have (I think) already observed elsewhere, an exciting and energizing experience thus far. While I am not particularly impressed by any of the narrative trinkets that I have shaken from my fingertips to date, I can say that I have written more fiction in the past fortnight than in all the thirty-odd years that came before. And that, as they say, is something.
It is certainly premature to suppose that this project will somehow result in me developing or exhibiting some new facility with “made-up” stories ever afterwards. I still don’t have any internal visualization, which is always going to make describing a physical setting a major challenge. But I should still be able to tell stories about people, and to tell them truthfully, whether I am making them up or not.
(1) I say “dashing off” rather than “writing” because to me “writing” implies somewhat more care and refinement than I have been putting into these offerings thus far.
(2) I should point out that, although they appear daily as dated on my site, they have not always been composed in a smoothly quotidian manner. Both weekends have flown by busily without a scrap of writing time, which I have thus far addressed by writing three stories on Monday, and posting them across the three dates. Deceptive? Perhaps. But it is how I roll.