I’m a killer.

I did it. And I have to stop doing it.

I’ve killed time—so much of it that I can’t even pass it off as an accident. So I’m going to throw the book at myself. First, though, I have to buckle down and write the damn thing.

Write soon!

Dear Writing Instruments,

How are you? I am fine. I know our last contact was as recent as yesterday, but I miss you already. Let’s get together very soon. We’ll do something special. (I hope you’ve got some ideas!)

Love,

Shannon

shortcomings

I have a few short stories forthcoming within the next year.

I have other short stories I would like to submit to appropriate markets.

I have an excellent grasp of the kinds of short stories favored by the editors of a number of excellent publications.

I have yet to write short stories for most of the markets I believe I’ve come closest to figuring out.

I have the urge to write many more short stories.

I have to work on having this urge to write short stories during times when I am actually able to write short stories.

warming up

Well, I’ve already failed the riding portion of my personal 30 Days of Biking challenge. But that’s no reason not to continue the writing aspect of it. I mean, this just adds an extra layer of fiction to my fiction, right? (And for the record, I am getting plenty of exercise in other forms, so I don’t even have to feel bad about not biking quite every day.) Turns out, a little flash fiction is a really fun way to start my writing day. I appreciate (and/or need) the daily reminder that, oh yeah, I do this because I like it.

cannibalism & plastic surgery

Twitter: it’s not just for cannibalism anymore.  I’ve also been writing lots of little stories about plastic surgery.  You know what that means!  More veggies! 

It’s September, which means I’ve got two writing projects going: a novel, and 30+ flash fictions for “30 Days of Biking.”  Today I made progress on both projects, despite a total lack of cannibalism and plastic surgery.  (So far.)

Day 1 (1 bike ride) flash stories:

At Point A she’s the pest a tourist will Photoshop from a shot of Nice Ride bikes.  An exterminator van waits at Point B.

My head swells in its helmet.  The bike rider just ahead of me is bareheaded.  There are fractured skulls (ha ha!) tattooed on the backs of his arms.  I smile at them while we wait at the intersection.  When the green light comes, it hits me like kryptonite:  Ouch!  Between triceps and self-righteousness, I’ve got weak spots where a helmet is no help at all.

September

Oh, did it sound like I said I’d start writing a novel for a “summer” project?  Obviously I meant to say “September.”  Actually, I’m kind of in the mood to get a little head start on it.  So: Good for me!  Right?

But never fear, I also have a September writing plan for the shorter attention span.  I intend to do “30 Days of Biking” and go for at least one (Nice Ride) bike ride every day in September — and I’ll be writing at least one piece of flash fiction inspired by each day’s bike riding.  So possibly that will just mean a lot of tweets about an idiot riding nowhere in the rain.  But if that’s the case, it ought to make working on the novel seem relativity appealing.  See, just because I’m not doing it doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing.

short but not sweet

Two more tweet-length stories published since my last post:

• http://thaumatrope.greententacles.com/contributors/Shannon_Anthony/stories/
• http://picfic.wordpress.com/2010/08/14/plungers/

Other tweet-length stories tweeted at http://twitter.com/Shannon_Anthony.

And I don’t know if this is ironic, but now I really feel like reading a really fat novel.

untitled

You know, I’m thinking I’ll make a lot of progress on my “summer-project” novel as soon as conditions become less, what’s the word, summery. It’s been hot. I haven’t exactly been on fire. Hot. Hot. Hot. And the humidity.

So I wasn’t kidding last week about the tweet-length fiction. There are markets for the stuff, you know. With editors and websites and everything. A few days ago escarp published this very very short and quite untitled fiction.

A little bird tweeted me

My design for Twitter’s “over capacity” screen

So I’d been hearing funny things about the whatcha the kids are calling it these days. Very good, if very briefish things.

What a coincidence. I LOVE good and briefish things! e.g. writing. The briefer the writing is, the more of it I seem to do. If you follow.

And if you do follow, thanks (if you follow) for the follow.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll still take whatever little bit of inspiration I can get, wherever I can get it. #plinky

But there’s a lot to be said for even teenier eenier ittier bittier bits of inspiration.

Actually, a lot really can’t be said. Which is totally the point.

Yeah, so I’ve already written, like, a twizillion flash stories this week!!!! #procrastination @Shannon_Anthony

Carb-based Life Form

FICTION. Well, except to the extent that it isn’t.

Potato Head – Couch Potato : )

However you cut it, however you cook it, however you season it, I love a potato. The potato is my favorite ingredient in any casserole, stew or spelling bee. You say “potato,” and so do I!

In fact, I love potatoes so much that I fail to see the shame in being one. I know that “couch potato” is supposed to be a pejorative, but come on. Comfort food, comfortable viewer: sounds like a win-win situation to me. Couch potato: cool as a couch cucumber. (A more discouraging word might’ve made a world of difference. Think of what I might have achieved by now to avoid being called a couch cabbage, or a sofa sprout.)

In other words, no, I can’t really report any novel progress (or bike riding, or potato eating, for that matter) this past week. I did revise a lot of short stories, and try to figure out where to send each of them. So in that way I was quite productive. But only in that way.