Before the new year began, I made a declaration about the writing I was going to do:

In the new year, I am planning to complete one short story each month. My friend Kyle said he was going to, so I thought, "yeah that'll work for me, too."

So here's what I wrote this monthSo here's what I wrote this month

First, I'll update you on my larger project. I am slowly piecing together a novel about faith. I have very lightly described it: #1323534 and #1251969, because it's sensitive to exposure right now. It's a malleable idea, and I'm protective.

I did push it along this month over a few sessions at the library. I have a strong sense of two characters at least. And I have a strong sense of the setting, since the whole idea is projected from a real setting that I've become acquainted with over the past 5 years.

In fact, more to that point, I want to share a tiny snippet with you:

A legend was told in the breadth of an instant. Through the breath of a mist, a story spoke. It gathered around a figure of stone, became light on a beautiful face, and soared up to heaven on a length of wings.
Then it disappeared, and that’s all I saw of it.
My rented car speeds down the country highway.

This is sort of an inscription for the story that will follow. It doesn't really fit inside the story because the perspective is wrong. And there's verb tenses in conflict, so I'll have to revise that another time if I even hold onto it. But it creates the mood of an epic fantasy, right? So it's inspiring me for the moment. We'll see.

Experimentation
My writing is not at the center of my life right now. It never quite has been, and I've often been conflicted and distressed about that. Well, I'm neither of those things now, but instead, and more agreeably, I would say I am curious about it. So I'm currently running an experiment. It goes like this:

For the past five years, since I decided to take writing seriously (in my own way), I have set a reminder on my phone that pops up each day at 9pm and it says, "write :)". Well, each day, instead of ignoring it, I'm trying to notice it. Once I notice it, I must write down the excuse I have for not writing that day. After a pattern begins to emerge in my excuses, that will be the next phase of the experiment. I'll conjure up a plan to address that exact excuse, one that I cannot ignore. Therefore, cancelling out the reasons why I don't write should equal more writing done on the other side of this experiment. I'll be keeping you updated.

Next my short story for January is incomplete. You can give me a [FAIL] for that. Or can you? Because I do have something. I'll share it, I'm happy to share it.

“Hallelujah, I thought you’d never wake!”

[night cycle:100%progress. day27:0%progress.ERROR:_Missuse_threat65.0]

My eyes blink open to let the soft light filter in. A head hovers above me. It bends forward, closes in —”are you okay?” Comes a voice from the head. Then recognition, light, the familiarity of the space rush in.

Suddenly aware of my lips sealed together, I fight them open. “Could you get off me?” I croak and sputter. And Hiramor backs off. I see her now, in her apron and stockings. Where are your shoes, old girl? Her blank eyes follow mine.

“Okay, yes I’m okay. I’ll just need a few minutes.” I rock up to sit, my chest painfully caves in as if it’s an empty cavity or a deflated sack. I drive my arms into the cot to stay upright. I taste bile on my tongue, feel grit in my teeth. A shiver crawls up my back.

Hiramor keeps close watch. I notice her noticing me. Then the sharp electronic alarm sound escapes her, the same one I heard yesterday. I lock my eyes on her wrists. Adrenaline floods my chest, leaves my head faint, my eyes lose focus for a moment. I fight it. In an instant, she spins sharply and rushes out of the room. I release with relief.

There’s no way I can keep living like this. I crowd my body into my chest when my head starts pounding. Just breathe.

I hear a distant whir, fading away.

[Location:in-motion_0025006kb_33km. Target:004900-33%progress. day27:4% subject:ERROR]

She moves steadily and with purpose. “Well aren’t we having a cheerful morning?” Hiramor says to the empty kitchen. “Let’s throw open these curtains. There’s nothing more important than the first light of day for the average female’s cyclical balance!” She putters around closing and opening cabinets and windows, fussing. Huffing over every action, doubting it, stepping back to judge it, making nervous jerks. On an unsteady step which she seems to second-guess, she slips. Her whole body follows the motion and jerks to a hault. She stays that way, locked in place, for a number of minutes. Then she calls out to me, “Will you take milk in your coffee?” She chirps, she twitches.

I pull the chestplate into place at my shoulders, and bend over my knees in the rush of pain that follows. Sharply inhaling, I answer her quickly, “Yes, please!” Before I can process the next fit of pain, I struggle to fasten the brass clasps. This is impossible.

A crash sounds out loud from the direction of the kitchen.

I just never got the rest of this idea off the ground, onto the page. But what I was thinking was a vigilante hacker would save the girl from being attacked by her housemaid bot, and would expose her to the underground community of hackers who have formed a resistance. In the end, she would celebrate with her new friends in a dingy bar where they would speculate what could happen to the human race running out ahead of the computer race.

So that's what I got! Oh and I wrote this other thing. Therefore, I count this month as a success. Although I did not complete the short story, I did honestly engage in the practice.

That will wrap up this month. Thanks for reading!