Alice Buell Lawrence

Now that I’m settling into my new place, I’m finding myself writing a whole lot more. The focus is there. The intent is there. Maybe some modicum of talent is there as well. Who knows!

But I am in an interesting groove this time around. Aside from one story that ran a little bit longer, everything I’m writing is just over 2100 words. Every. Single. Thing. It’s not intentional, and I don’t feel like it’s a lack of detail or anything like that. Each one of these stories is about the same calorie count.

What I am going to do is start publishing some of the ones I’m not going to pursue commercially right here on my site. What good is having a website if you don’t have some samples for folks to try on? I’ve been meaning to do that. Now I’m ready.

I’ll work more on this in the coming days. I still just keep editing everything I write, never considering it done, so I’m hesitant to commit something to digital posterity. Can’t tinker nearly as much once it’s out in the world.

Last night I sat down and wrote a real bastard of a story. It was what fell out of me, but it was speculative and deeply personal in a way that I hated. I wrapped it up fairly quickly, and I think there’s room for more detail, more being in the scene, but what did my Freewrite pop up with the word count? 2100. Sigh.