Good morning, gentle readers.
The other day someone asked me, "Are you still writing?"
"Yes," I said.
"Where is it?" they asked. "Kindle?"
"No. It's mostly been on Twitter."
Which, as you can imagine, caused this person's eyebrows to rise in surprise.
Who could blame her?
What can you possibly write on Twitter? How can you write anything when you're limited to 145 characters? Including spaces?
Actually, you can do a lot with that amount of space.
Diane thought marrying Tom would make her happy.
What did make her happy, was killing him.
Prison was totally worth it.
The above doesn't even use all 145 characters allowed on Twitter.
Honestly, though, I don't write much twitfic these days. Instead, I'm all about the haiku.
Trees dance with the wind
Tossing leaves aside in bliss.
Autumn is a joy.
They sit in grand halls,
Dusty gray souls in hard skins.
So, yes, I am still writing, I'm just writing poetry, not prose.
When will I get back to writing stories?
Sometime soon I think.
I can feel that old impulse sluggishly stirring, like some great sea monster starting to climb up out of the depths.
Soon, I think.