Balls

You want a hanging cliff? Ah, I get it. You want the guy who’s hanging the cliff. Wait what? Someone’s hanging Cliff? About time. He’s had it coming for weeks now.

And without further ado, here’s my take on Chuck Wendig’s flash fiction challenge. His idea is that somebody will take your story to their heart (that somebody is probably you or that guy standing behind your back, wielding an axe) and writes what happens next. That’ll be next week’s challenge.

My text this time is called BALLS.

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Writing, writing, working, writing

Writing is hard. Writing while working full time is really hard.

But let’s not work up a headache because of that. I’m proud to say that I cranked out somewhere in the vicinity of 10 000 words during the past week, in a futile attempt to get my deep woods contemporary fantasy (a k a lumberjackpunk) story going. I already have an idea to let the action take another direction, stuff will need reworking and so on, but I DON’T CARE. Right now pumping out those words is all that matters, getting the writer train back on track after being derailed for so long. 

Editing is far off in the future still. I probably won’t touch the text until I reckon the first draft is done.