Short things, without a home.
I joined twitter because I wanted to submit something... anything. I'd been reading up on fiction markets, and some article somewhere mentioned a place called "Thaumatrope."
I'd give you the link, but...
Thaumatrope is, or was, a Twitter based e-rag. It would tweet its members stories that fit in the Twitter message box: 140 characters or less.
IT DIED!
Shortly after I'd submitted, the publication closed its doors. This happens a lot. I feel like my stories are little time bombs that explode on the slush pile and sink the publication.
I thought I'd share, since there is no market for them but your kind attention.
Title: On the evolving morals of the lower to middle Paleolithic.
Ug holds Ong. Scandal, little one is with the wrong sort, awake, at night! Them and their... fire? No good will come of it.
Title: Rain Goes "tick"
Alone.
Cold shadow filled corners.
The Windblown Rain like fingers tapping the window.
Tick tick tick tap.
A finger taps the window.
Title: A late afternoon conversation with Doctor Bunsen Bernard
Genetic engineering, tricks and tools the alchemists of old couldn't dream of. Swine and bird flu, I'll cross them, yes! Murder most fowl!
Title: On the proper forms of address when apprising a superior officer as to the relative severity of the given situation.
A red light can mean stop; but that particular red light means we and the ship are about to go very fast in all directions at once... sir.
DARE YA!
Write one. You have less than 140 "characters," not "words," and spaces and punctuation count as a whole character.
You'll want to find your word count utility. In my antiquated version of Microsoft Word, it's under the tools menu.
BOUNCE!
I'd give you the link, but...
Thaumatrope is, or was, a Twitter based e-rag. It would tweet its members stories that fit in the Twitter message box: 140 characters or less.
IT DIED!
Shortly after I'd submitted, the publication closed its doors. This happens a lot. I feel like my stories are little time bombs that explode on the slush pile and sink the publication.
I thought I'd share, since there is no market for them but your kind attention.
Title: On the evolving morals of the lower to middle Paleolithic.
Ug holds Ong. Scandal, little one is with the wrong sort, awake, at night! Them and their... fire? No good will come of it.
Title: Rain Goes "tick"
Alone.
Cold shadow filled corners.
The Windblown Rain like fingers tapping the window.
Tick tick tick tap.
A finger taps the window.
Title: A late afternoon conversation with Doctor Bunsen Bernard
Genetic engineering, tricks and tools the alchemists of old couldn't dream of. Swine and bird flu, I'll cross them, yes! Murder most fowl!
Title: On the proper forms of address when apprising a superior officer as to the relative severity of the given situation.
A red light can mean stop; but that particular red light means we and the ship are about to go very fast in all directions at once... sir.
DARE YA!
Write one. You have less than 140 "characters," not "words," and spaces and punctuation count as a whole character.
You'll want to find your word count utility. In my antiquated version of Microsoft Word, it's under the tools menu.
BOUNCE!