A place for everything…

I want to write something.

Haikus, rambling blog posts, shopping lists, god-forbidden documents for work - full of buzzword-bingo conquering re-rehashed cliches - are all missing something, or, in the case of the latter, have missed something, then added in some other stuff, then lost the point and generally sound much the same as any other marketing trash.

No, I want to write a short story. Something of merit. Not so easy; that GCSE English A grade may have validated my 10 finger, 10 toe count in certifying my lack of familial interbreeding, but did not endow me with the ability to string together a storyline.

To that end I may have found a solution: Drabble. A really short story crafted from precisely 100 words, no more, no less.

A drabble generator has already delivered my first pant-wetting of the day, thanks to it’s insertion of my flippant crap into Shakspeare’s sonnets - “But soft, what sneeze through yonder window explodes? It is the Weetabix, and Batfink is the sun!”.

Reading near-exclusively scifi and fantasy may be an encumbrance, but with only 100 words, those literary neurons should get a workout and still be home in time for tea.

Time to type…

Early morning yoga classes, a full day off work, buying new books in Foyles and stopping for a read and a coffee in Ray’s Jazz Cafe. A film, a funfair and some random bunnies in Soho…