I am about 85% on reworking a microfiction into something more... substantial. The word count is up past 2500—meaning it is 100x bigger than the 212 words from before—and I still have a few sentences to turn into paragraphs. It will go up on the site soon, but those in the Reader's and Publisher's Clubs will get to read it early.
Here is a peek of what was "A Night in Her Shoes":
Lifting the lid and setting it on the table, I got my first look at what had arrived. The box didn't contain shoes, but boots, and not just any boots either. Long boots. The kind that came up to your thigh. They might not have been sex objects on their own, but the relationship was undeniable.
I pulled one out to look at it better. The black vinyl felt cold in my hands. Probably from them being shipped. The chunky platform-style sole was stiff black rubber that was attached with stitching that was a bright, almost neon green. The zipper, which ran up the outside of the boot from above the ankle all the way to the top was a similarly acidic color. There was green inside of the boot, too. Suede dyed the to match the other accents lined the insides. The bottom side of the soles, too, were also the same shocking hue.
"Aren't these a bit... much?" I asked, holding up my hand to show her what I was holding. It was rhetorical, really. I knew my wife's penchant for theater. I had a feeling the new boots that had just arrived were going to play some part in this evening. Still, it was shocking to open a box with my wife's name on it and find that she had ordered part of an outfit that belonged in a fetish club. What the hell were these for?
"Oh not at all," she said before pulling the oven open and reaching in to get her baking. "In fact, I got them because I think they'll look great on you."
Okay, that made sen—Wait, when had I said I wanted women's boots, much less ones as outlandish as the one I was holding? "These aren't for you?"
"Nope." The thud of the biscuit stone on the counter added extra gravitas to the simple answer.
I started to ask why she had gotten them when I noticed there was a little dirt on the vinyl. Without thinking, I lifted the hem of my shirt started to rub my fingers over the spot to clean the surface. The material squeaked against my fingertips and gave a tiny bit from the pressure. It almost felt as if I were rubbing my own feet after a long hike.
Once I get that done, I want to grab a story from "The Drafts Folder" and finish something to put up something just for those in the Publisher's Club. I have a couple other things to share with the Pub Club, too—like drafts of stuff that I have been sitting on for a while. So look for that in the near future!
In personal news, I have been off my ADHD meds for, like, two weeks—It wasn't originally on purpose, and now it kind of is since they got refilled, finally, but I have not gone to get them—and I have seen a substantial uptick in interest in things.
Granted, most of that has ended up invested in Labyrinth of Refrain and Horizon: Zero Dawn—but I have been doing sprints in between stopping points and that has been a big help with focusing on writing and actually getting work done instead of getting bored and clicking away from work because I have all the time in the world.
Anyway, going to get dinner started. Until next time, be excellent to each other!