Weird. It's Monday, December 25th. Start of a new working week, and yet all the shops are closed and no one appears to be at work. The traffic, usually a distant hum, is silent. The predominant sound is of children playing in neighbouring yards. Their laughter mingles with the idle chatter and leisurely laughter of adults. It's overcast and cold, and yet there is a palpable happiness in the air. It's almost like... it's almost like it's the end of the world.
Also, there is a writing competition that I have to enter. Good prize money. Any genre. 3,000 to 5,000 words. The central character has to be a woman. I think I entered once before but wrote what I thought they expected rather than really create a story that I wanted to tell, just from a female perspective. I think I'm going to approach it differently this time.
Maybe I'll write about someone waking up to the eerie silence of the end of the world. She taps out a brief blog post in case there are any survivors, then goes out to investigate...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
Weird. It's still 10:31 p.m. here in Chicago on Christmas Eve, and my children are 1. smart enough to know that Santa probably doesn't exist, yet if they admit that, he won't show up with gifts anymore and 2. if I don't go to bed, he won't come and 3. The NORAD Santa tracking website says he's on his way, shortly.
Which means my children are trying to get me to toss my x-mas vodka tonic down the drain and go to bed. And while it would be nice, conceivably, to wake up on Christmas morning without a hangover, it's 1. too late for that and 2. who cares? I'm going to my mother's for breakfast and mimosa's, moving on to beer and vodka by lunchtime, and I'll be guzzling wine and water by dinner.
I realize, fully, that the preceding paragraph might not make any sense whatsoever, but I really don't freakin' care.
1. What the hell happened to the posted story? I didn't have time to give it a good read and it fucking disappeared? WTF? Can you email it to me?
2. Merry Christmas, quick. I was trying to remember how I encountered you, and I don't. Which is weird and sad.
You are funny.
Vodka is about to kick in so this will be brief...
1. You make sense.
2. The story? I got all self conscious about it. Fuck. It was up for two days and I didn't feel right so I took it down. I will email it to you. I just know I've written bettr and ... I dunno. I'm weird about shit.
3. I don't remember either. Other than I came across your site and you wrote a very good story about your son and wrestling, and I liked it a lot. Happy Christmas to you too.
Also, I couldn't find your email address(feeling a bit hungover and stupid this morning) so I put the story back up. Just for you.
Intriguing premise for a story. Get writing!
Post a Comment