"I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by." - Douglas AdamsSo as usual, I planned to be much more productive than I actually have been these past few weeks--which is why I promised a short story by the end of May. Five pages. Single spaced. Not too difficult, right? Well, it wouldn't be, if I hadn't forgotten about it until tonight. And if I had the slightest idea what I was going to write about. Because I don't. At all.
So, that leaves about 74 hours to brew up a plot, birth some characters, and polish it all into a nice shiny story.
And after two hours of hitting my head against the keyboard, here's what I've got so far.
"Your mother is gone, Bea. She...she didn't make it."
Well, that deadline might just whoosh by.