You are currently browsing the monthly archive for April 2011.
Chuck Wendig is hosting another flash fiction challenge at his blog. This time, we’re limited to three sentences.
“The king died and then the queen died” is a story. “The king died and then the queen died of grief” is a plot. The student chucked the textbook across the room and went to the registrar’s office to change her major.
I’m looking forward to doing Story-A-Day again this year (and hopefully, not getting so far behind 3/4 of the way through that I almost give up). I already have more than enough prompts to get me through the month, too. I currently have 43 ideas, titles, or other inspirational notes to keep me going. So if something never strikes my fancy, I have plenty of backup.
I won’t be posting my stories here (because editors/publishers often won’t look at pieces published on personal blogs), but I will be chronicling my progress.
It looks like I’m going to have a busy week coming up (a 3-hour dental appointment, starting a new job, etc.), but I think I can get one story completely done before the month of mass first drafts begins. I can’t wait to see all the new stories that next month will bring.
I’m a big fan of Chuck Wendig, and I’m also a fan of flash fiction. Thus, when Chuck Wendig issues a flash fiction challenge, I heed the call. Well, sometimes. Whenever I’m not trying to finish ten thousand other projects.
The current challenge is to create a piece of flash fiction using these five words, either in the piece or conceptually: figure, dust, flirt, mobile phone, wig.
“I know you from somewhere,” he said, leaning in closer than I allow strangers to get. I could feel the dust filling in the lines of my palms as I pressed them against the wall. Frat boys didn’t seem particularly adept at cleaning.
“I’m sorry, but I’m sure we haven’t met,” I replied. “I know you’re not in any of my classes.”
“Yeah, but I know I’ve seen you around somewhere. I wouldn’t forget a face as pretty as yours.” He grinned, apparently proud of his pathetic attempt at flirtation.
“Well, it’s a small campus. We’ve probably crossed paths at some point. Now, if you’ll excuse me -”
“Wait, wait, I know! You’re that nude model for the art department.”
“Oh, you’re in the figure drawing class? Awesome. But really, I -”
“No, I took figure drawing last semester. I’m in sculpture now. But I’ve seen portraits of you all over the studio.”
“I recognize you by your hair. People love to draw your hair.” He reached out to tug one of the curly grants that never stay straight no matter what I do. When I flinch, he takes his hand away and pulls out his cell phone. “So, what’s your number?”
“None of your damn business.” I finally push him aside and head for the door. Maybe I should start wearing wigs to work, I think as I step outside.