Earlier today, I was lamenting the fact that I didn't have much to say about building worlds (the theme of #100daysofwriting, day 5). I expressed this to my partner earlier, who refuted it in a way that I thought was rather brilliant... and which has led me to conclude that I build worlds without even meaning to.
By way of illustration, check out this short work I wrote in November 2020, and never published. (There's a theme here, isn't there?...)
Google Docs Viewer Link
In this piece, there are no character names, no specific descriptions, no tangible setting, even -- and yet, there's a world here, rich with angst and separation and regret and hope... a world that is a little like mine, so I know what lives there, but I'm willing to bet than outsider can see that world, too.
...if I'm not right... you can tell me, I suppose...
By way of illustration, check out this short work I wrote in November 2020, and never published. (There's a theme here, isn't there?...)
Google Docs Viewer Link
In this piece, there are no character names, no specific descriptions, no tangible setting, even -- and yet, there's a world here, rich with angst and separation and regret and hope... a world that is a little like mine, so I know what lives there, but I'm willing to bet than outsider can see that world, too.
...if I'm not right... you can tell me, I suppose...