I know that I have since November all but abandoned my many friends here, and for that I apologize, but it was for a good cause. I successfully completed NaNoWriMo this year, my first time out of three previous tries, and I completing that novel, The Crossroads at Forgotten Lake
, most of which you can find in my gallery. The requires at least another 20,000 words to be told properly and most of my artistic energy going toward that effort (with an occasional political salvo across the brow of Big Brother's dreadnought).
The first installment of The Crossroads at Forgotten Lake
. . .
And as if that's not enough, I decided to participate in Script Frenzy
, the less grueling cousin of NaNoWriMo. I'm this to motivate me to finish a full-length animation script, The Fire Maiden
, that I began a few years back, and could be described as Princess Mononoke
as imagined through the legend of the Japanese Sun Goddess, Amaterasu
. I'll post the treatment here later (as soon as I write it).
In the midst of all of this, however, I thought I really should get to deviantART and respond to the messages that have piled up (again, sorry). Upon logging in I found to my astonishment many more messages that I was expecting thanks being awarded a Daily Deviation of my flash story 'Space Camp'.
Space CampHe found himself standing in their daughter's room, staring at the dusty mobile of the planets, unsure of how he's come to be there. He looked at her bed, her desk, the unfinished homework. He considered opening the window, but the thought slipped away before he could act on it.
He wandered into the living room, looked out the window. The grass needed cutting. Did it? He wasn't sure. His wife would know, but she'd already left for work. Seems she left earlier every morning and came home later each night. Another thought occurred to him, something about each in their own way, but he couldn't hold it. Perhaps she was having an affair. He wondered at how he might feel about it if she was, decided he wouldn't feel anything.
He went into the kitchen, looked at the table, littered with unopened mail. He took a bottle from the cabinet and sat down at the table. Was he starting later than yesterday or earlier? He wasn't sure it mattered. He opened the bottle, but found he'd forgotten to get a
I wrote this story for 52/250 A Year of Flash
(which has been completed but where you read many really great flash stories), but beyond that, I cannot say where this story came from, other than the fevered working of my imagination. I'm especially pleased that this story was selected because of all of my flash stories, I am most pleased with this one.
And so, many thanks to my friend and DA lit community powerhouse
, who is herself an excellent writer, for suggesting it, and to
for featuring it. I'm not yet familiar with
' work, but I will rectify that once I catch up here a bit.
And many thanks for all of those who have
ed the piece, for all of the very gracious comments, and mostly for all of the high praise. You've given me a boost of positive energy when I most need it. In addition to this general thanks, I will answer all comment, it just might take me some time to get to it.
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