Well, in forty minutes tonight I wrote a flash piece, edited it in an hour, did a re-write over the next hour, and sent it out to Neon Magazine
There are several reasons I'm like "Geoffrey's Pizza", 835 words. First, and foremost, it made my wife cry. No joke. Honest to God tears over the ending of this story. I had guests tonight and let them read it, and not one of them looked happy afterwards, which tells me it punches in just the right place.
The second, and selfish, reason is that it is the first piece I've both began and finished since the birth of my children. I was starting to worry there were no good ideas left in my head what with all the work around the house and at the office, not to mention the recent pressure. So I have a new goal, now. A story a week. Not a finished, complete product, but something. Be it good or bad, short or long, one finished first draft of something every week. Length is not an issue. Taste is not an issue. Just something to keep me in practice until the kids sleep through the night and the house settles down.
The last time I stopped writing regularly, I ended up spending three years repairing the paddlewheel on a 100 year old steamboat.
So, back to it. Tomorrow I start trying to find my story for that week, and by next Saturday I resolve to have the first draft finished.
In the meantime, let's see what happens with my pizza order, eh?
On a different note, we took the babies and Sophie to the market today grocery shopping. There were nuns there. I have decided nothing I can ever write is scarier than a nun cooing over the baby strapped to your chest. I was squirming the whole time, expecting rulers to flash through the air and smakc my palms.
Plus, it's just a little uncomfortable to have a Bride of Christ looking at your personal Product of Lust.
Speaking of uncomfortable, this song kickstarted another story idea. It's a song about lynching, extremely haunting.