Sunday, November 15, 2009
I've been thinking about short stories today, going through the folder of things I haven't yet found a home for. Ask me most times and I'll tell you I hate writing short stories. There's too much work involved for the end reward. They take me such a long time, and I have to part with the characters too quickly. And then, like today I read back what I've written and I realise that even with a just a few thousand words I can pack an emotional punch.
The story I've just read is all about loss and hope. It stars a character I became very attached to. In fact, I went on to write a whole book about him, but the short story shows a different side to him. We see him through someone else's eyes.
It's a story that makes me cry, as many of my short stories do. Maybe that's what is difficult about them. I pour too much emotion into them. I have to give up too much of myself. I find it impossible to write something quick and easy that's just about fancying someone and shagging them senseless. The unfortunate side effect of this is that it makes these stories difficult to sell. Alot of the emphasis of erotica and erotic romance is on the happy side of sex, people enjoying themselves and just revelling in plain old lust, whereas there's often a thread of pain or loss in my stories. I can't help it. I just don't think you can understand real happiness without knowing what its opposite is like. But do people want to read that... I do. I'm just not so sure about everybody else.
Recently watched: Crying Freeman
Currently listening to: nowt
Currently reading: Gabriel's Ghost by Linnea Sinclair