(I don’t understand how this is possible)
Another short post today because my laptop’s bratty, non-existent Internet connection is still bratty and non-existent, so apologies for that. Apologies also if I, of the 400 blog posts and 66,000 words of short stories in twelve days, sound like a massive a tit when I say this, but there’s a writing competition coming up that I might not have time to enter.
The competition is for 300-word flash fiction (not ‘slash fiction’ as I keep calling it) and short stories of up to 4,000 words; I have an old piece of flash fiction I intend to enter, but I have no short stories I can use – a clause of the competition states that entries can’t be posted anywhere else before being entered, so the Twelve Stories Of Christmas are all out because they were posted on my writing blog. They were also all at least 5,000 words, a condition I made up for myself so I couldn’t get lazy and reuse one of them for this competition, so I’d have to write two fresh pieces to fill out the maximum number of entries a person can have, at three.
But this has backfired somewhat; a combination of my insane and unnecessary desire to read Wordsworth’s The Prelude in two days, and some rather exciting-looking NFL Playoff games this evening (I’m taking the Packers and the Colts in tonight’s remaining Divisional Round games) has left me with not a lot of time to write things, especially things of reasonable quality so they have a chance of not being totally anonymous in this competition, which will include things like planning and editing that I normally quite like, but won’t get a chance to do before the submission deadline of this Thursday.
So I can’t write things because I’ve already written too much, and am reading too much; if you’ll excuse me, I’m now going to go to my kitchen, where my house is so big the wifi doesn’t reach, and creep past my gardener as he trims my hedges because I’ve forgotten his name, and deal with other critical problems.