Infected

I’m far more infected with the idea of short story fiction today than I have been in a while. There was something about yesterday’s little story that really sparked something in me. It somehow made me realize that I don’t have to write a full 1500 page novel to be a writer. I can with 1500 pages, but it can be 1500 pages of short stories.

I don’t know why I never came to this realization before. I think Stephen King might have had something to do with it as well. I realized that a lot of his books are short story compilations. Not to ignore his volumes of weighty tomes of murder and gore, but he made a great career of the short story.

I think I’d like to do that and am now refocusing my energies for that purpose.

Hopefully this infection will become a full blown fever and I’ll finally be able to quit the cubicle wasteland and actually pursue a passionate career.

Wouldn’t that be nice, although I wonder what I would write about if I didn’t have all this crippling depression?

I’d like to know from you, faithful follower; if there any particular short stories you’ve read in this blog that you’d like to see fleshed out a little more and maybe put in actual print.