if i set out to write a short story, i inevitably come up with something in the 8,000 word range.
on thursday, however, i had one of those flashes of inspiration at work that come only when you are so tired, so frustrated, so sick of being in an office when everything that matters to you is back at home, when every hour feels so precious and thus that much more of a waste . . . but i digress. i had a flash of inspiration, i was twiddling my thumbs waiting for a client to respond, and i quickly typed out what i thought would be, in fact, a flash fiction.
it felt strong enough that i put the novel aside today and finished it instead . . . and now i have a full draft of a properly short story: just shy of 3000 words long. strange little story, where the heck did you come from? i feel like you’re my red-headed stepchild. happy to have you, but for the life of me i have no idea what part of my mind you sprang from.