In January of 2011, at my stepmother's surprise 60th birthday party, I fell in love. Romantic huh? Except the object of my affection and desire was no mere man, rather it was a small, squarish green book titled
"Hint Fiction" and in it were short stories. Short short stories. Short as in 25 words or less. Short as in magically enticing. Short as in "Wait, I want more!" The book was a gift from my father but it barely graced my stepmother's hands... I practically confiscated it and ran. No more polite conversation, no more chit-chat or cake or - gasp! - wine. I assumed my protective reading pose and went for broke.
Upon arriving home that evening I ordered my own copies, copious amounts of them. I ordered them for coworkers and friends and with which to line my bookshelf. I gave them away like candy on Halloween. And then, then I started writing them. Every where... on notepads at work, in the memo app on my phone, one in eyeliner on my makeup mirror. I couldn't get enough. And still can't, I re-read the stories over and over. I contemplate them, create endings and beginnings and people for them. And last week, I submitted two that I had written for the new contest and I am off on another "Hint Fiction" journey. This time around the stories are more confident, less melancholy, even funny (I hope!).
Try it, you'll like it. It is much easier than you first think. And you will be surprised at how addictive it is. You, too, will write them everywhere. You will find inspiration in the littlest things and begin to make sense of the biggest questions. And if you write some, share them with me, I'd love to read them. Below is one of the ones I wrote when I first caught the Hint Fiction bug: