This is my ambition: within a year and a half, I’ll have a short story accepted for publication.
I write on and off, and I’ve always loved fiction. Lately I’ve been a little more focused: taking a writing class and trying to write most days. I write more efficiently in frequent short bits than in an occasional long marathon, and I like to write without knowing what’s going to emerge. Sometimes nothing does, and that’s okay as well. Often I’m surprised by what takes place. My work is usually handwritten, because something flows more naturally through that medium than in typing. Perhaps because it’s connected more viscerally to the hands.
Charles Dickens and Flannery O’Connor influence me in content, Donald Barthelme and Charles Bukowski in style.
Many of us are familiar with dreaming and vaguely planning our goals, and then encountering internal resistance when implementing them. Maybe because it means the end of the dream. Lately I’ve found that constant planning exhausts me and burns mental energy, and I have a new impatience to bring my goals to fruition. My newest story is about a woman who loses her husband to suicide and moves with her twin children to his childhood home. Frankly, I love the story. Wish me luck! I’ll keep you guys posted.