It’s time for a third drabble. I have things on the way, oh yes, I do.
Apparently I’ve deleted the short story I was working on, which isn’t the smartest most. Oh well, the new draft will probably be better.
In the meantime, here’s My Friend, The Mosquito.
Interesting times.
I have business cards now, which is awesome, I’m working on a few articles, which I’ll try and narrow down and actually finish in the near future. My attention does tend to wander.
Until then, here’s another drabble, for SCIENCE!
A drabble… I’m not exactly sure where it comes from, is a format for fiction which is exactly 100 words (not including the title). It can’t be any more or less than one hundred.
When I was younger, I used to hate deadlines and restrictions. As silly as it sounds, the hypothetical comic company my best friend Adam and I had (Awesome Comics, later El Queso Diablo Comics) had a certain level of deadlines. I’d try and finish a script by a certain time. We wanted to be a proper publisher one day, like Marvel and DC. We were 13 years old, so that wasn’t likely to happen. Still, I made 30+ scripts. I was on fire, even though the second I had a deadline I did something else. Even through college I was allergic to deadlines. All those scripts are gone now, all that college work. Everything of my writing which I’d types up before I was 20 vanished when a laptop so damaged by its exposure to me, was rendered completely worthless, was burgled from my home.
Instead of being a sad occasion, this became a changing point. I started again from scratch. I didn’t look back. Over the next few years I grew to love deadlines. I relished them. These restrictions and rules. If I am going to write for one of the big comic companies then I’ll need to learn to write what other people want, I’ll need to write to a deadline.
Exercises like a drabble, writing to exactly a hundred words, are good to play with. I liken this to writing a comic script to make what is effectively an act break at the end of each issue. To making a dramatic beat preferrable at each turn of the page.
These preceeding statements are to explain that I am going to be posting a couple of drabbles for a couple of weeks. My plan is to have some bigger fiction up here before I run out of drabbles, but I have things to write, things to edit.
I hope you enjoy the first of these drabbles, short though they are.
I want to say, “Blame Chuck Wendig”. I really do.
Chuck Wendig is a writer, someone I’m a big fan of and whose advice on editing, “Welcome to Editordome” I’ve been returning to again and again while pouring through the proofreading copy of my novel.
He’s been doing contests on his webite, the aptly-named, Terrible Minds, for flash fiction. I’ve seen a couple where an idea didn’t come to me in time. The latest contest was this one, where the inspiration had to be a photo of doll’s heads. I started pondering ideas and had nothing.
Then yesterday this appeared to me at work, out of the blue. My proofreaders, Alex and Steve were great at rushing through it and now it’s ready to be viewed by the public. As much as it can be.
I want to say “Blame Chuck Wendig“, but this is my fault, really.
My latest Faked Tale, Tiny Broken Doll Face Man.
Enjoy.
A bit of a swift one this week. The Magical Laundrette, or it might end up called “Where all the socks go”. I’m not sure yet. It’s kind of rough, so any constructive criticism is welcome.
As I’m running a little low on existing fiction, I’m thinking I’ll spend the next few weeks putting up something tiny in the form of drabbles I have done. I’ll use this time to hopefully build up a little more work, edit a few more pieces.
The weekly deadline’s been good, but I’ve also got a novel to edit, comic scripts to write the pitches for. It’s been a fun, busy time.
Charlie E/N
Here’s another post-apocalyptic tale, The Performance.
Enjoy.
It’s new story time. Well, not really new as this was my first ever short story, involving a strange love triangle.
I hope you enjoy Love’s Headlights.
Another part of my series about life after the end of the world, and fulfilling a decision made before the apocalypse, The Break Up.
I hope you enjoy it.
It’s a day late, but here’s another short story.
A few years ago I was at work and it was snowing. The isolation of an office with only a handful of people inside, nothing outdoors but white, my mind went back to a bunker I’d seen on a walk on the South Downs, and the isolation there.
I have written post apocalyptic stories, but this isn’t part of that series. Oddly, years apart, this is one of two stories with the line, “What if it’s zombies,” which probably shows where my mind is at. I have kept both, and hope they both work on their own merit.
I hope you enjoy, View From The Hill.
Only a tiny tale at the moment. I’m having a couple of days to enjoy immersing myself in editing the novel. I’m going to have time to edit some of my existing, larger short stories, and have a bunch I want to write up. in the near future.
Instead, here’s a little bit of strangeness which popped up in my head from nowhere. I hope you enjoy Baba Yaga’s Bungalow.
Faked Tales 
