So 2012 is here and I've been thinking a lot lately about how much writing I haven't done recently. I suppose it's all understandable, what with the new position at work dominating nearly 70 hours a week and the general home responsibilities... but still... no post in over a year? What the hell, man?
Deciding I needed to remedy this situation, I went out the other day and bought a new writing computer. A decent little laptop that I can use to get a little something done everyday on.
That said, I've been checking out the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. Definitely seems like something I could get on board with...
So today's post is just a little something simple. A musing for a terrible opening sentence to the world's worst novel. No real refining or editing, just something I thought up while getting some work papers done.
After skipping a pebble across the pond's tranquil surface, I sat hunched over in the rickety rowboat staring at a thousand reflections left by the rock's ripples as they gazed back at me, conveying an image of grief, solitude, and emptiness and I found myself accompanied only by a single thought - an epiphany, really - gracing my mind: sometimes the fastest way to find yourself abandoned by those you care for most is a scathing remark, a bean burrito, and a wicked fart.
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