Hello world. Been a while, hasn’t it? I know. I hate that I’ve been so bad at keeping up with my blogging. Know what else I haven’t been doing? Writing. At all. Not on my novels, not on those short stories I said I’d write, not on flash fiction, nothing.
I’m not a writer these days, I’m just a human trying to get their shit together.
Seriously, there has been a lot going on. I’m trying to get another job where I fit in better with my colleagues – currently waiting to hear back from an amazing company and a job I desperately want – and can enjoy what I’m doing, I’m trying to be able to clean my freaking apartment properly again like an adult, and there’s been some love life things happening that bring me great happiness, but also a lot of anxiety about messing it up.
Point, everything has been about getting my life together, but the Writer inside of me is getting very impatient. The Writer desperately wants to write. Is motivated to, even. Writer is getting very upset and impatient with my Depressed Self for continuously keeping me from writing. Writer is getting increasingly closer to a riot and might overthrow Depressed very soon and get my ass to sit down, open the document and type the words. I really hope Writer wins this fight. I fully support Writer’s coup.
So, what whit getting my act together, I feel very guilty for the neglect I’ve been showing my various social media, especially this blog and my Patreon. In an attempt to very slowly dipping my toe in, here is some flash fiction to tidy you over while I keep working on myself.
Peeling paint. Planks once sturdy and strong now cracked and splintered, half of them rotten.
Dark clouds of thunder roll over the boat, and me, where I stand some distance away on the wet sand. Nothing and no one else around. Just me and a wreckage.
Suppose that makes two wrecks on this beach.
There is a certain beauty in the broken ship that I admire. It was once whole, shining bright in the sun as it forced the waves aside and brought its masters to their destinations. A vessel filling its purpose in this world with honour.
Now here it lays, an empty shell whose peeling exterior barely holds it together so it still resembles a shadow of its former self. Desperately clinging to days of glory long gone.
What a sad idea, I think. Clinging to something that is gone. What a desperate, miserable way to live. And yet letting go of the past is such an impossible task.
I cross the sand, my footsteps making no sound above the thundering skies and roaring waves.
I crawl inside the other wreckage on this beach and wait for the tide to rise and carry us both away.
We must either rise above the past we’ve lost and struggle to survive, or sink.
Thanks for reading, I hope my time away hasn’t totally wiped out my abilities and that the flash was reasonably enjoyable. Thanks for your time and your understanding as I get myself into order!
Now if you’ve excuse me, I’ve got a life to figure out.
Writing Up My Serotonin 