The Chair

I recently faced the challenge of writing a piece of "non-genre" short fiction with the thought of maybe submitting it to the Prism contest this year. I hummed and hawed a bit and then wrote a piece of fiction entitled "The Chair", which traces the significant times in an elderly man's life using the vehicle of different chairs that he had spent time sitting in throughout his life, a theme brought forth by his sitting in his favorite old rocking chair as he reflects on his past.

The story is finished, but whether or not it gets submitted to the contest remains to be seen. The deadline is just a few days away, and there's a good chance that it won't make it in time as things stand.

I think the story and how long it's taking to make a decision about what to do with it is sort of a reflection of how things are going for me right now. I've noticed that my writing often reflects, if you know what to look for, my current situation and general state of mind, and right now that state of mind is best summed up as... tired. Deeply, deeply tired, and reflecting a lot on both my past choices and what the future holds, which is sort of what the old man in "The Chair" is also doing, except that he is doing it from the position of someone who has a lot to look back upon but very little time left ahead.

The fate of "The Chair" is up in the air, but I'm sure I'll send it somewhere in the end, and perhaps the place it is sent to will receive it and take a liking to it. I certainly took a poignant pleasure in writing it.

As to whether I will have any more tales to tell in the coming months, it's hard to say for sure. Right this second, I'm a bit weary and worn, and feel the need to rest and just compose myself a bit. When I get to the place I need to be at to come back to the writing desk, I'm sure I'll have some new story to tell... until then, keep watching, keep reading, and above all else keep those dreams alive.