A portion of my soul


As everyone should know by now, there was a cruel-story contest that took place last month. Details and links exist here. The contest creator (and my friend) Aborigen said, “Some Gentle writers contributed to CruelJan17, at the cost of a portion of their souls”. That is quite true. It cost me something to write something that contained my own definition of cruelty in it. For others, creating that sort of fiction comes as easily as it does to me to write about the shrinking, abduction, and seduction of a favorite man. For me, it was not as easy.

The day I started writing my story I was quite drunk, and drinking and writing do not mix well with me. The little I wrote was absolute rubbish, and extremely difficulty to approach on an emotionally even keel, so I decided to abandon the venture. However, the idea would not quit me, and it lived on in my head, constantly presenting itself. When an idea does that, it will not leave until I write it down. That’s the nature of my fornit. He runs around up here in my rafters, he makes a mess, and keeps whispering sexy creativity in my mind until I acquiesce.

After I started writing, it was an easy flow. I thought I would cry, and I didn’t. I thought I would feel nauseated, and I didn’t. I also didn’t sleep for three days, but that’s nothing new for me. I sleep very little. But what happens when I don’t sleep, is that I start having auditory, visual, even synesthetic hallucinations. While working on my entry, I “felt” the smells of a certain event that was taking place where I left off one particular night. But I persisted. I had to. I’m very interested in expanding my range of writing. I can’t keep writing about a man I shrink, abduct, seduce, and keep for the rest of our lives, can I? Should I? No. There are other worlds out there, other words to glue together, other works to force upon my brain, so it doesn’t coagulate in the shape of what I constantly make it produce. I will next write about a robot I shrink, abduct, seduce, and keep for the the rest of its shelf life.

In the meantime, there’s still time to read the stories; there’s still time to offer your creative efforts and choose to volunteer to illustrate one or more stories. That’s what I’m doing. I’ll work on my own story’s accompanying image, and then another. Oh, and don’t forget to vote for your favorite story when you finish reading them all. Or don’t read them all. Just read mine, and vote for it. Now.


4 thoughts on “A portion of my soul

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  1. Very intense. A very viscerally felt entry, and a signifying page from a superior writer’s journal.

    This contest was very much a challenge, both for people to crank out quality work under a deadline, and for some of us to break out of our comfort zone. You clearly underwent a harrowing journey and learned a few things about yourself. Like you said, you could’ve gone on without getting knocked brusquely about, and many people do avoid challenges and stick to clearly marked paths. I have respect and admiration for you, for your desire to expand and grow (no puns intended) and push your craft further, even during such a dark process. You’re the kind of writer I would like to be.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you very much for your kind words, but mostly for your support. You’re a good friend.

      And you are the kind of writer I would like to be. That’s why I’m doing all this. That’s why I want to have a broader range, an improved ability to express new ideas and move fluidly between voices and abstracts.

      I’ll get there.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you. I’ve had as much luck as I’m gonna get with the contest. And I did get out of it what I wanted, which is the important part.


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