Yesterday I woke up with an F/m fiction story almost fully formed in my mind.
This has never happened. NEVER.
I don’t write fiction, I just don’t get story ideas like that, and long form isn’t my strength. When I’ve tried to force it (and I have tried), the result feels contrived, flat. I’m reluctant to say ‘I’m not good at it’ for fear of jinxing what I’m writing now, but I have thought that for a long time (and I’ve absolutely said it out loud before).
But I wrote some 20 pages of it yesterday, madly putting down what was in my head. I made myself cry with my own writing (sad bits, oh my). I haven’t re-read it yet. I’m hoping I’m still excited about it when I sit down to it a bit later.
I tried to write a synopsis here for you, but I have a very delicate hold on the work and I started to get frustrated with not being able to come up with something that worked, so I had to drop it.
The line I like best from it right now:
Unfathomable sorrow is noisy and relentless.
Fingers crossed I can keep hold of my muse so you will get to see the result.