A year or two ago, I thought I'd have a bash at short story writing, or "committing the act of fiction" as Peter Sirr puts it. I dashed off about four or five (probably not the way to do it, I know) and sent them off to some competitions. No joy. Took them back, revised them, cut them, cut them again. Sent them off again. Nah.After some more paring, by which time I was heartily sick of them, I thought I'd give them one final run out, entering them for the Twisted Tails short story competition, judged by the wonderful Nuala ni Chonchuir
I see the results are now up on www.twisted-tails.com and though I've scanned the list 47 times, I'm not up there.
I think that probably sees the end of my foray into short story writing. My attention span is far too short.
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