Why write twitfic? I like the immediacy of the form.
Even though it lacks the depth of a short story and the carefully structured nuances of a novel, twitfic captures the essence of forward momentum in a given scene.
My preferred genre to write in is suburban realism, a term coined for me by a friend. I don’t write spec fic, sci fi, fantasy, horror, romance, historical or *insert genre here* (although I do like reading some of them).
I write about people in the current moments of their life. This for me, is the charm of story. Little moments of every day, when seen as a whole, is like a daisy chain of memory or a rosary to be recited.
These moments can be whimsical, humourous, reflective, serious, ones of regret, loss, pain, sorrow or love.
These moments are what I attempt to capture in writing twitfic.
Every day of his 20s he wrote himself a note, sealed it and waited sixty years. Every day of his 80s a new revelation awaited.
Others sat absorbed in books or papers; he with the view outside the train window. “It’s never the same story,” he once answered.
Standing midst the blackened skeletons of once proud trees the ash turned her sandalled feet grey. She spotted the first green spark.
He took the new pair of underpants from the packet and put them on. In the mirror he twisted and squatted. “Ladies undies do fit nicely.”
The gaping maw of the steam engine’s furnace harnessed the fury.
“Oi, son, where the hell you been?” roared his father.