It’s been a LONG time since I’ve blogged so jumping back in with this flash fiction post seems odd. But considering all the changes I’ve been making in my life … it also feels oddly right. More on those changes later. For now, I’m getting back into the habit of daily writing exercises, some of which I’ll share here in the spirit of poops and giggles.
This one is from a writing book I’ve been working through: Piccadilly’s Complete the Story which offers daily prompts and room to write an approximate 250 words to complete a short story. I’m absolutely loving these exercises and sometimes I end up shocking myself with some nice twists at the end!
Why am I sharing this? Because the more you get your work out there … whether by submitting manuscripts, entering contests, posting on Wattpad, or sharing chapters with critique group members, the more you feel like a writer. And that’s my biggest goal. To feel like a writer again and stop letting the mental demons win.
So here’s today’s exercise, 95% unedited save for a few confusing words. It took me about ten minutes to handwrite and is far from perfect, but hey. It’s done and I had fun.
The prompt is in bold:
Looking back, it could have gone either way. It didn’t work out, which makes it look like fate, or a stupid decision, or both. But at the time, I did have a few things in my favor. I had all the elements in place to wear the homecoming crown after months of careful planning and calculated moves. The perfect boyfriend, Roger, who was a high enough ranking member of the varsity football team to be respected but also humble enough to be adored, those giving me a share of that adoration.
I had the perfect appearance thanks to months of Beachbody workouts, hair extensions, and teeth bleaching. My grades were stellar from months of tutoring by Elliott Simpson, the nerdish band geek who always waved at me while I cheered.
And speaking of cheerleading, I had fought for and won the role of co-captain for the varsity squad, sharing the title with Joanne Perkins, who hated this fact as much as I do since the homecoming crown has been her goal as well.
Everything was in place for my sure victory.
There was one thing I didn’t count on, though.
She wanted the crown more than me, I suppose. While I went for the humble yet respected Roger, she went after quarterback, head honcho, and total ass Thomas Jones. She did the more torturous marathon training rather than Beachbody. And when she caught me in the arms of another boy underneath the bleachers during our game against Randallstown, she didn’t hesitate to snap a picture and use this as ammo against me.
So I guess there was another thing I didn’t count on that kept me from my goal.
Falling in love with Elliott Simpson.