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Remember the best time of last year, when I ran Gentle April 17? During that period of time, there were zero deaths, a billion hugs took place, and no one cried except with joy at the wonderful stories that were produced. Now it’s time to let love reign again. It’s time for Gentle April 18.

Of course, I’ll participate, and so will plenty of other writers. Anyone that wishes to enter the contest still has a few days to do so. Contact @SizeRiot and let them know twenty-four contestants are simply not enough. A few things that come to mind to mention are…

• There’s a 2,000-word limit for stories. You can write less, and I’ve even seen a couple of entries with a few more, but I wouldn’t test SizeRiot’s temper by sending in something that doesn’t closely approximate 2,000 words. When they get mad, mosquitos drop dead in Asia, and lightning strikes on Earth average 45 a second, instead of 44. So watch it.
• The subject is macros. Biggies. Tol. Giants. No tinies allowed. Keep your tinies tightly secured in your drawers, as if spotted in a story they will be crushed out of existence.

And those are the rules I care to mention. You can read the rest at the contest website. As to my own rules for myself, I’m going to try my best to disguise my writing. I succeeded to some degree during Cruel January and had a great deal of fun finding out how ill people spoke about one of my stories. It’s okay, ill-speaking people. I love my story. I don’t need your love.

But you’re on my list. I know where you live.

Literally, I have your home addresses.

Really, I do.

As soon as I grow a couple of hundred feet, it’s crushy time.