Today I have a preface to my short story--just some writerly thoughts about what motivates us to write and what feels meaningful in creative endeavors.
Why 50-word stories?
I have begun to think of the 50-word story as an amazing art form. And that is one reason I write them. But there are other reasons too. For one thing, they help me to break out of whatever writing trappings I may be stuck in. They feel like a nice way to stretch in between working on other things.
Writing as a break from writing
For readers who don't know, I am currently involved in a group writing challenge called Write Club. This 16-week boot camp is designed to help all participants who survive the grueling (but super fun) experience to graduate from the want-to-be-published phase to the happily published phase of our writing careers. (For more info, check out the #writeclub tag.)
In other words, we are very serious writers, devoted to the practice and craft of fiction writing.
And we have deadlines.
Every two weeks we write a story of about 2,000 to 5,000 words. While working on these longer pieces (and working full time), I have been finding gaps to write and publish other stories on Steemit--some long, some short.
Can you say in 50 words what you can say in a longer story?
No. You can't, of course. It's a different art form entirely. These really short short stories are about capturing a larger idea in a space that seems too tiny to contain it. You must try it to understand what I mean.
I find these 50-word challenges from miniature-tiger to be truly refreshing. I spend some time on them, as I want to capture a mood and a complete story within those 50 words, and it's not easy to do. But it's also not the 10-day writing adventure that a longer story is!
Okay, enough rambling! Without further ado, here's my latest story....
Oh, wait! I forgot to mention something. The most recent prompt from @miniature-tiger was "Fair," and I wrote this little story: Ghost Fair. Because I got busy, I skipped over the previous prompt, "Blood." Well, @felt.buzz nudged me today and said I should consider writing one for the previous prompt anyway. And so I did, and here it is.
The map
(Image credit: Pixabay)
The buccaneer stood at the table, gazing at the map by candlelight.
First mate Jamie Bogg snoozed in his bunk. If Red Hook could gather up the map and provisions without raising the damned parrot, he could slip off before daybreak.
Then a sharp feeling in his neck, and blood.
Thank you for reading!
