Three days left
until the deadline
for the short story.
The prompt is
“I don't believe you.”
And the voice in my head says,
Fuck it.
I've already done seven.
That's enough.
I didn't swear on an oath
that I'd complete
twelve stories in twelve months.
That was the goal.
But I'm a poet.
This anxiety
is fucking with me.
I should at least try.
Trying means
stretching my mind.
It means going to work.
Sitting at the keyboard
and developing a plot.
Finding a protagonist.
Finding a reason
for any of these people
to exist.
While another voice says,
Why don't you have
some leftover spaghetti
with a little olive oil
and Parmesan?
Short fiction isn't your genre.
It's not a big deal.
Nobody cares.
And maybe that's true.
But I hate quitting.
I've quit so many things.
So many times.
Walked away
when the road got steep.
Found a reason
to call surrender
something else.
Three days.
Twelve stories.
Seven already behind me.
And somewhere inside
all this anxiety
is a stubborn little voice
that refuses to let me
walk away from eight.
Because maybe
the point isn't
whether I'm a short story writer.
Maybe the point
is stretching the mind
until it hurts.
Sitting down
when I'd rather eat spaghetti.
Hitting the keys
when nothing comes.
Making something
out of nothing.
Failing badly
and trying again.
So fuck it.
Time to go to work.
Maybe at the end
of these twelve months
I'll be able to say,
I wrote twelve stories
in twelve months.
And nobody
will have given a damn.
Except me.
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 16th, 2026 07:50
- Comment from author about the poem: Here is a link to my YouTube channel where I post poetry readings and videos of my attempt at golf: https://www.youtube.com/@ThomasWCase All of my books are available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Thomas-W.-Case/author/B0CL2RKDGX?ref=sr_
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
- Users favorite of this poem: Paul Bell, Tristan Robert Lange
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Comments5
I can identify with this Thomas on another site pressure to join a group, enter a contest and yet that is not the reason I write. I write what I feel for myself and if others like it wonderful if not it is therapy. Yet I hear you with the response to challenge and to stretch one's limits. So in this soliloquy I have to say I feel you.
Thank you. I appreciate it.
My pleasure Thomas
good write friend
Thank you.
most welcome
Sometimes deadlines are great, you have to get something written down.
On the other hand, if you've not got a deadlines the fridge calls your name and you promply reply.
It's just finding a subject to write about. On another site, I would write half a story, pass it over to Lily who would finish it. She would do the same. Worked great.
After awhile we couldn't remember who wrote what. lol
Right on. Thank you.
It's amazing how some Authors can churn Stories out like James Patterson . He seems to have one on the Shelves every week. and some every Year or Two.
Must be a lot of Pressure being a Writer.
Am enjoyable Read as always.
Thank you, Kevin.
My Pleasure.
Thomas, what a powerful and relatable piece. The humor keeps the anxiety human, while the ending transforms the entire struggle into a personal act of perseverance. External recognition becomes irrelevant…the victory is refusing to abandon yourself again. Excellent write, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Thank you, my friend.
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