I've been writing again. Little stuff, mostly flash fiction and one sentence stories, but I'm really pleased with what I'm churning out. It's scary to go back to something you've abandoned, especially if it involves some level of creativity. How do you know if you're out of practice, or if you really just suck balls?
I rarely let anyone I know read my writing, because it tends to be kind of revelatory re: my character and life experience, but I'm not embarrassed by what I'm working on now, and that's a great feeling.
Here's a teensy excerpt from a short story:
It's easy to assume that some things will exist eternally -- life, time, and heartache each carry the collosal threat of permanence -- but love, he knows, is as fleeting as childhood or the tail of a shooting star.