Pygmy Giant has got a new story of mine: My Boss is Amazing. It is a kind of sequel to an earlier story of mine that they published. I’ve got another one in the pipeline. I am a flash-fiction short short story machine.
I was going to write a long post about how many bloggers and writers in their twenties write about work and being employees and their stories are often humorous or surreal or absurd and it probably has something to do with crises of identity and over-extended adolescence. I was planning to use words like ‘Zeitgeist’ and wonder aloud in suitably vocabularied ways what we might be writing when we were ten years older. I might have digressed onto something that could have been called ‘Writing the Self’ and wittered about fiction and non-fiction, memoir and autobiography and lying. I thought I might take in the spate of bad mother memoirs we had a few years ago, (newsflash: sleep deprivation and bleeding nipples are not fun… zzzz) and how as a twenty-something single mother I should really be writing about hating my child rather than hating my job, (it’s fiction, fiction, don’t forget: that’s because we make it up and LIE and sometimes people can’t tell).
In the end I decided a post like that would be dull and provoke even duller arguments and would be too much hassle to write and I would change my mind about what I thought half way through. So I decided not to.
I bet you are glad.