This weekend, I will write something

I couldn’t think of anything to write for the blog today – something that’s becoming an all-too-common occurrence, I have to say. I could probably think for more than ten minutes and I’m sure I’d get a reasonable idea, mind you. But anyway, that’s not the point. I have decided something, and I want to put it here on the blog so I might actually follow through with it: this weekend I am going to write a short story and submit it to Spectra Magazine.

Now this isn’t because they have a reputation or any other nonsense like that, it’s just because I want to actually force myself to write something that threatens to at least be a bit creative, and I want it to be judged coldly, callously and honestly. I want to be either accepted or rejected. That’s it.

It’s a feeling I’ve been having a lot recently, for whatever reasons. I want to be told either way that this is going to happen or it isn’t, that I’m going to do this or I’m not, that I’m going to move there or I’m not*. Yes/no. That’s it.

So yeah, this weekend I will write a story of a minimum of 3,000 words (12,000 maximum) and send it to these chaps to see what they think. I will likely not be very good at it, as I haven’t actually sat down and written a story since I was about 14. Unless you count my essays at uni, which were technically fiction.

As if this fucking one a day business wasn’t challenging enough…

(*Note this is all “I want to be told” bullshit, rather than me think I actually make a decision for myself for once.)


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