I’m discovering that desperation can be a useful tool. Again, I worked late into the night to get something. And this shorty so wants to be good but can’t quite pull it off. I wrote it from a child’s point of view, something I almost never do, so I can be proud that I strayed from my usual path.
Working Title: Her Book
1st Sentence: “No, no, Pearl,” said Miss Scott, “that is not a BEE. That is a…? A… ? What is it, Pearl?”
Favorite Sentence: She would much rather think about potatoes.
Word Length: 395
Photo credit here.
Like I said in a previous post, when I bounce back these days it’s only for a day or so. Mostly I’m just really, really, really tired, and often, as with this one, the story refuses to come until I’m so DONE with the day that I have to force something. But… this shorty is actually pretty good. Maybe.
This one didn’t come out quite right but it has potential. I have no idea how I stumbled onto that first sentence after struggling all day to come up with something that would hold. I know I was falling asleep and feeling pretty desperate by the time it came to me.
This piece started as a 5-minute writing exercise with my friends Patty and Joani, so I feel like they gave it to me. Thanks Ladies! It’s small and humble but I like it. The piece of biscotti I just bought and ate with a cup of coffee was not small and humble. I neglected to take a picture of my snack, so this photo will do as my official celebration for finishing another week. And this time the celebration, for me, is not just virtual. Yum.
Oh, the heartache of finding this story. Finally pulled it out but left some gaps. I think it’ll be a keeper when I can get back to it, though. This marks my last day of a week of prompts using the 
So this is the fourth time I’ve traveled during the DS challenge. I left Wednesday first thing for Boston, where AWP is holding its annual conference. I’d forgotten how hard it is to be in a different place and keep up with my story-a-day promise. Ergh. Anyway, if I can figure out what this piece is missing, maybe I’ll make some progress on how to write good stories that are fewer than 250 words. The shorty is almost good but… isn’t. And I have absolutely no idea how I got from this 
I’m always hesitant to say that I’ve learned any particular thing with regard to writing because I never know how the ground will shift tomorrow. But I think I can say that I have taught myself how to write very short. Not teeny-tiny, mind you—I don’t know that I will ever be able to write good pieces that are, say, 250 words or fewer. That is a feat I can barely comprehend. But I have now written a fat handful of pieces under 500 words that I like a lot. Given that I couldn’t do that at all before this challenge, I feel pretty excited. The shorty this picture of the day at 
This photo of a Russian palace, the picture of the day at 
My first sustained period of mental fatigue hit hard in August. I beat it back by using various kinds of story prompts for a while. Then I fell into the habit of a week of prompts, a week of no prompts, followed by a period of anything goes. I was feeling so exhausted as March began (I’m writing this catch-up post on March 19) that I reached again for prompts as a solution. My DS weeks begin on Tuesdays, so on March 5 I started a week using the “picture of the day” at 
I was in a better mood when I wrote this one and feeling more rested. I’ll enjoy coming back to it but I think in the end it will be a shorty only its mother can love.
And good riddance. January was brutal and February was worse, both because we had to euthanize our beautiful kitty—I’ve put up another of my favorite pictures of her, here—and because for the entire month I fought a kind of fatigue that just totally took over my mind. I used to be able to bounce back for weeks at a time. Now a good bounce lasts maybe a day. Well, I wanted to know what would happen to me if I wrote a story every day for a year, and now I’m finding out. The day’s shorty is a sad one about a grieving widow. Fitting.
When I’m severely stuck, which is a state I’m living in far too often these days, I follow the advice to look for my material in my obsessions, gripes, fears. A huge gripe is the condescending things some mothers say to me when they discover I chose not to have children.
This shorty is based on a taste memory I’ve been chasing, and it’s a great example of a piece that is very well done for what it is, but there’s kind of no there there. If I were more of a poet perhaps I could write a compelling shorty based only on taste. Next time!
There are bad shorties and then there are shorties that revel in their badness, mocking me with a smoker’s choked laughter, inviting me to question this project, my calling. Go ahead and laugh. No one else will ever hear you. Laugh while I move on to the next.
One of the ways I rescue a totally arid brain is to go back to childhood. This story about my mother using gasoline to light our wood stove fits nicely into a small package. Oh, the horror on my father’s face when he discovered she’d been doing that—maybe I’ll write that story sometime.
All the notes I took for this week of stories said things like “I’m tired” and “Still sad about [my cat] Maria” and “Not in the flow.” So it’s not surprising that this is the first story this week that feels right and whole.
Occasionally I see a pretty tattoo and I think, “Why not?” You only live once. But then I think… PERMANENT. And that word is enough to scare me away. Just further proof that I was born with the sensibility of a middle-aged woman in mom-jeans. Anyway, thinking about tattoos today led to a piece that isn’t great but has potential when I can come back to it.
Really struggled and it shows. This one will live on the hard drive.
Among the many, many lessons this challenge is teaching me so well: The idea file or writer’s notebook is an awfully good friend. I had to end this shorty badly, though, for lack of time to find the right ending.
I like it when I can figure out how to build on the scraps I save in my idea file. Struggled the whole day then finally made something work. Not a keeper in present form but it has potential for when I come back to it.
Big congrats to me for finishing Week 40! We’ve got a huge snowstorm going here in Maine and I’m craving comfort food, so my virtual celebration treat is savory. That’s the kind of plate I could swim in for a long time…. As for the day’s work, do you know about 
This one didn’t come easy but it finally landed. A strange one with some potential when I go back for revision. Inspired by February 3rd’s poem at 
I finally enjoyed two days of a little spark yesterday and the day before but today, sadly… no spark. I hope I have a really good week soon to make up for these late doldrums but who knows, maybe 9 months is the outer limit of how long I can write something every day and mine a little gold here and there. In any case, congratulations to me for completing my 9th month today! The treat in the picture is “artisanal nougat,” which looks like that Torrone candy I love to get at Christmas. I think a hunk like that is sufficient for celebrating another month. Excuse me while I don my dinner napkin. The day’s lackluster shorty was inspired by the lovely poem 
There is one good thing about the flu (and it’s certainly not worth it): Once on the road to recovery, everything you eat and drink is delicious, and everything you do is exciting because it’s so easy. Yesterday I straightened up the kitchen and felt incredibly happy that I had the energy to do it. I wanted to wash that dish—and I did! The day’s shorty isn’t great but it has a bit of spark and that’s enough for me right now. I’m going back to prompts this week and will be using the site 
I remember working on this one. I would forget what I was writing literally while still in the middle of a sentence. There is evidence that I wanted to craft something good—a note partly down the first page in the margin reads, “Start here?” Oh, Honey. It doesn’t matter where you start this one.
This raspberry tart looks almost unbearably wonderful. Faced with a shelf of those things I would eat them for every meal until they were gone, I think. Dream with me. And applause, applause for the completion of Week 38! On my last day of this week I used Leslie Anderson’s 
Again, many false starts. Much gnashing of teeth. Finally, a decent little shorty. Awarding myself these tulips for all the recent especially hard work. Very tired.
I woke up thinking morbid thoughts. So… morbid shorty.
Sometimes I just have to start with nothing. My mind roams and I type words or sentences and then delete them and type more and delete again and more and again until an image holds, for no reason I can divine, and I stop deleting as the sentences spin out into a larger whole.
I neglected to celebrate the completion of Week 36 in January 7th’s story post below. Likewise, I began this week forgetting that I should use a writing prompt to keep up with my practice (for some time now) of alternating weeks using writing prompts with weeks of coming up with ideas entirely randomly. Well, that’s how it’s been, lately. I may have to accept that I’m not going to regain a normal-ish level of energy for the remainder of this challenge. Major mental fatigue has settled in and seems to abate somewhat for only a couple of days at a time. I do continue to write stories that surprise and delight me, at least one every week. How long can I go? I guess we’ll find out. For now enjoy with me this turtle fudge to celebrate another week of shorties. The day’s story was inspired by a conversation I had recently with a friend about fertility treatments.
Daily Shorty 