Resuming an Old Habit.

Well, here’s a turn up for the book. Tonight I felt suddenly and unaccountably moved to begin another short story. I’ve jotted the first 214 words so far and it begins:

Marcie Thompson was three years old and had an imaginary friend. At least her parents, Jeremy and Sophie, thought she did.

That might be enough to offer certain suspicions as to where it’s going, and you might be right or you might be wrong. Time will tell of course, even for me because even I don’t know where it’s going yet. It was ever thus at the best of times because I enjoy watching a story unfold just as much when it’s one of mine as when it’s one of somebody else’s. One thing I can be quite sure of, however, is that there will be a dog in it. And since it’s some years since I wrote a short story, I’m inclined to ask myself two questions:

1. Will my writing style be so very different from what it used to be? Early impressions suggest the affirmative.

2. Will I have the attention span to complete the undertaking even though I don’t expect the story to be very long? That’s something else which remains to be seen because my mental energy is considerably reduced since I last wrote short stories, and my attention span is very much shorter.

And I think that will do for now. Better go back to the story and see whether I can get as far as introducing the dog before I put it to bed for the night (the story that is, not the dog. The dog is sitting on the bed already, waiting to be introduced. It’s a black and grey Cocker Spaniel if you’re interested.)