Tension in 2007: A retrospective
We’re about to close out 2007 here at The Tension, but you’ll find no end-of-the-year lists or compilations (even if people are too busy to read during the holidays).
No, we’re about freshness.
Create something every day. It was one of my original 43 Things. And, surprisingly, this is the 406th post to Surface Tension in 2007.
Either a shitload, or a load of shit. Take your pick.
I don’t think I was listening (hell, I know I wasn’t), but a friend suggested that I didn’t need to post every day; that some of the posts were, well, “Maybe you should stay away from the computer some days.”
I don’t know. Sure, not everything was Wil Shakespeare, it wasn’t the scribblings of Freud, but that’s not the point.
The point was to create something every single day.
And at some point, this place to rant transmogrified into a creative sketchpad for me to doodle.
I wrote some original fiction and original poetry. Hell, I created 11 Fiction in 58 entries (little stories with exactly 58 words).
I looked back and wasn’t always happy with what I wrote. But it was honest. It was me.
(Here I go getting all reflective.)
The plan is to continue to post daily. It’s never felt like work. It feels good. Honest.
With that, why don’t we close out 2007 with an even dozen of Fiction in 58 titles:
First kisses
There’s pressure in first kisses.
Forget desires for minty fresh breath or whether tongue is appropriate. Worry is timing.
Her eyes are open, his too; it’s official, a real first kiss, but more like mashed smiles.
He leaves in careful critique, wishes for another chance.
She wishes she’d not blurted out a lame goodbye, hopes for another kiss.
No, we’re about freshness.
Create something every day. It was one of my original 43 Things. And, surprisingly, this is the 406th post to Surface Tension in 2007.
Either a shitload, or a load of shit. Take your pick.
I don’t think I was listening (hell, I know I wasn’t), but a friend suggested that I didn’t need to post every day; that some of the posts were, well, “Maybe you should stay away from the computer some days.”
I don’t know. Sure, not everything was Wil Shakespeare, it wasn’t the scribblings of Freud, but that’s not the point.
The point was to create something every single day.
And at some point, this place to rant transmogrified into a creative sketchpad for me to doodle.
I wrote some original fiction and original poetry. Hell, I created 11 Fiction in 58 entries (little stories with exactly 58 words).
I looked back and wasn’t always happy with what I wrote. But it was honest. It was me.
(Here I go getting all reflective.)
The plan is to continue to post daily. It’s never felt like work. It feels good. Honest.
With that, why don’t we close out 2007 with an even dozen of Fiction in 58 titles:
First kisses
There’s pressure in first kisses.
Forget desires for minty fresh breath or whether tongue is appropriate. Worry is timing.
Her eyes are open, his too; it’s official, a real first kiss, but more like mashed smiles.
He leaves in careful critique, wishes for another chance.
She wishes she’d not blurted out a lame goodbye, hopes for another kiss.
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