I decided this morning that I should write a short story. I had an idea and I wrote on the bus and I wrote on my lunch hour and now I have 1,476 words of…something.
It is strange because when I am working on a longer project it doesn’t worry me how the sentences start off like something a small and not very bright child might use but now that I am trying to write something shorter these same (type) sentences horrify me. Where, I think, is the beautiful smooth poetical sentences that surely just flow from normal people’s fingers? What the hell is with all this Dick and Jane stuff that comes out of mine?
In time, it will become better, I tell myself. I hope that is accurate because at the moment it has all the subtly and grace of King Kong.
Writing notes: Waiting for some feedback on portions of longer stuff, trying to work on smaller things (see above).
Reading: Started The Love Commandos again. Mystery set in India with a goofy Indian detective. Light and enjoyable but spends a lot of time talking about food so makes me yearn for Chai and samosas which I typically do not have handy.