Recently, I’ve discovered Flash Fiction.

Or, perhaps, I mean rediscovered it.

(It seems like I’ve been scribbling fragments of stories on scraps of paper like forever. And, whilst I’m still trying to figure out what flash fiction actually is, this short form of fiction seems to work well with me. It seems to match where I am right now, i.e. idea rich, time short, and it gives me that all important sense of completion. But watch this space for a more technical exploration, possibly, in the weeks to come).

Three weeks ago, I discovered the Bath Flash Fiction Festival and Ad Hoc Publishing’s weekly flash fiction competition. The idea is to write a piece of flash fiction in 150 words or less based on the week’s prompt word (which must also be included in the text somewhere). The long listed ones are published the following week in an on-line ebook and then go to a public vote off. I’m hooked, mentally composing vignettes when I’m cleaning the henhouse or scouring plates.

My first entry, 11 April, Sage, owes as much to much to what was going on in the garden that week as the prompt word, Sage. (I’ve got to become more original in my titles!).

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