For some reason in my brain short stories equate to literary writing. Novels equate to fantasy. I simply can't write anything but literary short stories.
No idea why that is, but as a result I've been writing a lot of literary pieces.
For example this is an excerpt from a recent piece I’ve written:
It’s been ten years since my Chris left me. Ten long years of loneliness and emptiness. I still find myself rolling over to reach out and squeeze his hand only to find that he’s not there.
Ten years have passed and the grief hasn’t faded. My family has told me I need to move and perhaps they are right. But the simple truth is that I can’t move on. For I still have Chris with me. The love we shared will never disappear. We had five years together. Five years of absolute bliss—actually that’s a lie. Our love was a rollercoaster full of passion and emotions. We had our ups and downs. But I loved him dearly and at the end of the day I knew I could always count on him.
And then he died. Even ten years later I still think of my Chris daily. I never thought I could love after my callous life. But Chris had changed everything. Now that he was gone I couldn’t settle for anything less than the best. And nobody was ever even remotely as good as my Chris.
Chris urged me to write down my life story. My story, my life was never easy or boring. I’ve had all the adventure I can handle, but still I feel the need to honor his request and write down my life story. Maybe it’s vanity and if so then I’ll have to deal with that. Nobody knows the full story, not even my Chris. I suppose I need to rectify that now. Where to start? That’s a good question. I suppose I’ll just start from the very beginning.
I must say this is one of my most interesting ideas. No idea where I’m going with it. But that’s all the fun. That’s the adventure.