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Sunday Evening Post, Iss. 12

Updated: Sep 9, 2022

I think we all knew this day was coming. Maybe you did. I, on the other hand, wasn’t entirely convinced. The day finally arrived that I sat down and I wrote words. At first, it was like a crack in the dam, a tiny jet of high-powered freedom. The next day I couldn’t stop it and the crack grew; I wrote a couple more pages.

I passed out while writing this week.

Sure, my passing out was from sheer exhaustion and these consecutive 14-hour-days aren’t doing me any favors but… I wrote a whole story. A whole story. Start to finish! I can’t talk about it, it’s that bad. Obviously I know my story is garbage and should immediately be burned at the stake, lest anyone ever happen upon it. I’m sure their brains would melt and ooze out their ears.

The point is, I wrote and I finished something. Maybe I’ll keep it around as a torture device.

Update during our blog reorganization, Sept 2022: I submitted this piece to a journal a few months later, was accepted for publication, and then I withdrew it. I have never liked this story and didn't want to have to include this piece on a list of my publications. It truly is that bad, I just wanted to know if that opinion was shared. It wasn't. Fiction projects completed: 1 Fiction words this week: 4,700


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


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