It’s nine-fifteen on a Sunday night with the weekend winding down, in my house anyway. The open windows tell me the neighbors aren’t quite there yet. But I just realized that the post I thought I wrote for Michelle on Friday is missing.
Here’s what happened. I opened up email before work on Friday to find that Michelle had emailed me that she was in the hospital again. Only Michelle is British, so what she said was that she was in hospital. Distracting myself from my worry about Michelle by thinking about the differences between American and British English, I came to wordpress, wrote something, that I thought I saved and went off to work. So, the missing post on Friday is definitely on me. Please keep Michelle in your thoughts and prayers.
Meanwhile, the writing that I seem to be thinking about in the middle of the night lately is a short story, for a woman’s magazine. I’ve never really done many short stories so I can’t tell you why. Nor do I know why this particular story should be for this particular magazine other than the fact that I know they publish short stories in this genre and this general word count, which I guess is a start. I’m finding that the old witticism that it takes longer to write short is unfortunately true,
But I read something Lawrence Block wrote once about ideas in the middle of the night. He said he didn’t write them down as some people did. If they were good ideas, he would remember them. I’m not sure if that’s a valid test or not, but I haven’t forgotten this story yet. I’m just not sure I can do justice to this heroine in a short piece. But there isn’t enough story to do more.
So I’m going to do that other tried and true test of fiction. Write the darn thing, then leave it in a drawer someplace (or my hard drive) and go back and look at it after some time has passed and I can get some mental distance to judge it.