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Sunday Evening Post, Iss. 29

Updated: Sep 12, 2022

This is the third time I’m attempting to write this post today.

The first time I tried to write it, I was on the verge of drifting off to sleep. It was after midnight so… today! But only technically. I had the whole thing written too, it was great. It was so perfect I made that seductive mistake of assuming I’d remember it later.

Take two.

A couple paragraphs in, it felt so wrong and unlike me that I couldn’t figure out who was controlling my laptop and making those odd word choices. It was destined for the “oops, I forgot to save!” mystery void. It’s probably trapped in a recovery net somewhere with a thousand other files called “Document 1”.

And thus, the third attempt at a couple hundred words in some semi-coherent order that doesn’t make me feel completely incompetent. Some words that exist in this language I’ve been speaking for *cough* years will come to me any second. They’re real words too, I swear. Words that have meaning and work together to express a thought I had once. Thought. I vaguely remember what that’s like. I worked a lot this week but what else is new?

Last weekend, I threw together a short piece that was nowhere near as fleshed-out as I planned. I wanted it to say so much more, to show the power of suggestion and emotional reprogramming. Mostly I wanted to throw in a gross ending because opportunity knocked. My mom read the piece and hours later, she was still walking around her living room cringing and gagging. Mission accomplished.

What did I do this week? I made notes for a story that won’t go anywhere and is way too big for the cap I’m putting on it. It’s good to try new things, right? Fantasy genre, you’re next.

Fiction projects: 1

Fiction words this week: 1700+


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


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