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I miss writing. I’m taking a few weeks off from working on my story and I can tell it’s a good thing. Even trying not to think about it, I can feel some ideas lock into place. I’m anxious to get started on reworking it. I also at the end of the day just really like spending time with my protagonist . . . no matter what happens with this story I just want to tell it truthfully for him.

This is a sign I’ve spent too long on one story, I’m sure.

I’m trying to write a little of a short story every day to keep my fiction brain working, but I’m not having much success. Sometimes writing at random works for me, sometimes I have no idea what I’m trying to say. This might be an abandoned work. Just the same, here are the last sentences I wrote this past week:

  • 5/14: I was ten miles away, asleep, but I knew it was me. 
  • 5/15:  For a bizarre moment, I thought they were playing spin the bottle. 
  • 5/16: I’d grown up; no need to drown anyone again. 
  • 5/17: Mama only called the game wicked when she was calling me a liar. 
  • 5/18: But it was too late, they were looking at me. 
  • 5/19: I heard a retching noise behind me.
  • 5/20: They do me a favor by not responding.

With Love,

Natalie