top of page

Sunday Evening Post, Iss. 11

Updated: Sep 9, 2022

It’s been a ridiculously exhausting week but I made it. I tapped out Thursday morning at 2 am. I could feel it coming, knew my brain was shutting down, and I was powerless to stop it despite the list I made last week. That was the moment I actually—finally—slept. Six hours later, I was back into “work stuff” mode at full power. Anyone who knows me well can attest that I am not a sleeper. I work until it’s done or I pass out. I can’t sleep if there are things to do and this week, we launched the fourteenth portion of The Writer’s Games. After a week like this one, I felt I owed it to myself to try creating something fictional. I got everything setup as per usual, coffee included, and then… I did three loads of laundry, two loads of dishes, and cleaned my stove and toilet. They really needed it. I also sorted through six months of junk mail destined for the shredder. Honestly, why does junk mail even exist? All those credit card ads are such a waste of trees that could serve everyone better as oxygen and books. Maybe one day, a tree will be my book. I have to write it first. After I finished procrastinating with cleaning, I did sit down to cold coffee, a pen with dried ink, and a story I haven’t looked at in so long I forgot where it was going. Then I wrote three hundred words. So now my character, a displaced detective and security risk, is in the Adirondacks, standing over the day-old body of a woman covered in sprigs of fresh lavender. It’s my detective’s first day in the new station, this is the second body they’ve found, and tourist season is right around the corner. Fiction projects: 1 Fiction words this week: 317 WW hours worked: 65


About the author: Theresa Green is the co-founder of The Writer's Workout and a crime fiction writer.


Recent Posts

See All


bottom of page