Ick, AACK, barf…Pfffthththttt…
My head’s a gray mass, and I don’t mean 50 shades of dynamic, creative, vibrating electric ooo-la-la. I’m talking flat, slate gray. One dimension. Shallow, plain, un-ness.
What’s a writer keen on keeping up a blog to do if she has no intention of writing much of anything personal? How many opinion pieces about my cat or neighborhood grocer can one readership take? Must everything become 500-word flash fiction pieces?
I have a rule: It’s a minimum of 300 words or it’s not a post. And,don’t go over 600-ish. So far, I’ve got (she stops typing to look down at the word count in the bottom right hand corner—which, btw, added about 20 more words just to type) 125 words.
I…you…we….no,wait…the show on TV? Yeah,no. The weather? Please. It’s raining, it’s cloudy, the sun’s out, it’s foggy. Whatever. My family is always my family and my job is always my job. Who cares (and they’d rather you not know about them in the first place). The cat barfs a lot, but nothing more to tell there (do you want a 500-word story about Barfy Cat? Yeah, I thought not).
193 words. No thoughts…. (wait…
…why is there a pulp-fiction/torrid romance cover girl in a teeny-tiny bikini on a beach in the south pacific riding a white horse who talks to her selling satellite TV broadcasting services?)
228 words. That’s gonna have to do it.