Finding Joy in Experimentation

A personal challenge in expansion and growth as a writer.

I’m a long-form writer. At least, as an adult, I’ve only written novels. There is a weird sort-of suffering that comes with writing projects of that length.

And I’ve considered, I have my own weird obsession with suffering. In my twenties, I participated in the sport of bodybuilding. Why? For two reasons, the biggest being my insane level of body dysmorphia and never feeling thin enough in a culture preoccupied with being skinny. The second reason? To say I did. It was a way of flaunting, perhaps. Flaunting how much suffering I could endure? It was a shallow way of showing strength.

I feel like for myself, writing novels comes from that same deranged place, where I make myself suffer. It’s probably a trauma response. But the point being, I never really thought to try anything shorter. I’m not sure why. Maybe, I believed, my ideas were too big? I claimed I needed space for everything spilling out of me.

I think that is also an excuse. An excuse to take up space in the world.

In an attempt to find more joy, I’ve started writing a novella. And I’m having quite a lot of fun writing this novella. I’ve decided to extend my experimentation in brevity to other forms of writing to find more joy, and less suffering, through writing.

For the next 30 days, I’ve challenged myself to write micro-fiction. I’m following a list of prompts I found on the internet and decided every prompt must be answered in 50 words or fewer.

Below you will find my some rough writing as I navigate writing micro-fiction for the first time in my life. In between those words, and harder to see, is the joy and fun I had creating these little lines of writing.

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A Personal 30 Day Micro-Fiction Challenge

1June 15 / Day 1: An impulse buy leading to intergalactic warfare.

Last Saturday, Tamala purchased an antique toy, a Furby, at a yardsale. She was unaware that by inserting fresh batteries and bringing it back to life, it would summon a squadron of angry, intergalactic aliens demanding the return of their children.

June 16 / Day 2: “smoke hung so thick in the library’s rafters that she could read words in it”

Smoked swirled around the wraith and hung so thick in the library’s rafters she could see words forming in the miasma, an answer to her question. Sarah’s eyes lit up like streetlights at dusk as she read, “flesh is my payment”.

June 17 / Day 3: The language of flowers, pyjamas, and a secret passageway.

The nectar of the flowers was sweet like the words on his tongue, as we slipped down a tunnel in the garden made of forsythia, still dressed in our pyjamas drunk from morning mimosas.

June 18 / Day 4: The story of how your parents mets, transposed in a Victorian era.

He smelled of sea salt and oaken barrels, and had a small heart tattooed on his upper arm. I found him quite handsome in his uniform. When he slid me a small glass of whiskey and spoke of his love of reading, I was smitten.

Thank you for being here! I hope you enjoyed reading my little snippets of experimentation!