And so, the Summer is almost done, for which I am grateful. Autumn is beginning to pick leaves off the trees, odd ones here and there, to get us used to the idea that soon they will be drifting down with a sound like falling rain. So change must come.
In the meantime, I only went and had two stories accepted (At last! At last! And there has been bouncing and squeaking and even a celebratory glass of prosecco or three), the first of which can be read over here at Ink, Sweat And Tears as of today.
Anyway, thoughts have been thought, and ideas come up with, and sometimes retained, but mostly discarded. And the ones that stick I will discuss another time, because it is getting late and I have to run away for the school run. Literally, in fact.
So, yes, it’s been a little while since the last post. This last month has been particularly mishmashy for all sorts of reasons. And I’ve been ill, which was rather trying. Then there was a brief jolly to London, and just now the school holidays for Easter. So the whole what-passes-for-normal routine has been well and truly skewed. Things don’t feel connected to other things. Perhaps they shouldn’t be. But certain things – very small things really – happened, or were thought, and seem to have some significance in my head.
For example, the purchase of a rather lovely sparkly face powder, Guerlain’s Meteorites (teinte rose, if you’re curious) led to the analogy that good short fiction should be like a meteorite. It’s not about the twist in the tale, although a twist can add to it: the best short stories – and especially flash fiction – should, like a meteorite, have an impact disproportionate to its size. It should pack a punch like a ten mile wide crater. That’s what I think. Find some excellent flash fiction and tell me I’m wrong. The face powder too has an impact disproportionate etc… rendering even my tired visage fresh-faced and springlike. (Two people said this. It happened. Ergo, Meteorites = miracle workers.)
The second thing I was going to mention has now slipped my mind – the perils of blogging with a glass of something convivial for company. It may or may not return. I suspect it doesn’t matter.
The third thing was going to be the crux of this post when I started thinking about it. About art, and people watching, and how people behave whilst looking at art, and does the art look back? But the more I thought about it, the better it seemed to fit into a sort of story. So I’m doing that with it instead.
And I think I’ll stop here.
So. Last week I wrote a short story. A very short story. So short in fact, that it qualifies as flash fiction (spot the buzz words!), something I had never attempted before. I’ve always been an epic writer, but now I’m beginning to wonder… but I digress. I liked what I had written, but I wasn’t sure if it quite worked. A close and trusted friend (you know who you are, and thank you so much!) looked at it, and made a couple of suggestions. I took her advice, then immediately submitted it before I could change my mind. And it was accepted. And if you have an iPhone, you can go to Ether Books, and – using their free app – download it (or any of the other stories available) to read at your leisure. There are some fabulous and fantastic writers who have been published by Ether, and I’m honoured (and alarmed!) to be allowed to be in their company. I just wish I had an iPhone…
Now to see if I can do it again…
(My story, if you’re so inclined to look for it, is called Wet, in the flash fiction category. If you do go looking, I hope you enjoy it. And thank you.)