A year ago I would have told you that I can’t write short fiction, that I need to write stories in the 100,000 word range (about a 350 page novel).
That was then, this is now.
A year ago, I was in a bad place, psychologically. I’d torn a tendon in my shoulder. I could barely type. I had a novel sitting at 123,000 words, feeling so close to done, and yet so far. I didn’t type anything for two months. By the time I could type again the universe of that long story had slipped a bit from my grasp, and trying to write inside it felt awkward and embarrassing, like I was intruding. I’m still struggling to get back into that universe.