The following was written at about four this morning, but I, in an example of supreme boneheadedness, kept it in edit-mode limbo until just a few minutes ago. Read on:

Yes, folks, it only took two years and change, but I did manage to submit a complete story to this month's TG Mixed Tape.

I imagine the feeling of "What the hell have I done?" will follow in due course, but for now, I prefer to ride the high.

Strange thing, flash fiction is. (Yoda is my copy editor). It's my first foray into the genre, and to say I greatly underestimated the amount of discipline it would take to produce those 500 words is understating the truth. It is far easier to write 5000, believe me. But then, there's a saying I heard recently: "Any damn fool can be complicated. It takes a genius to be simple." Or words to that effect.

As I am wont to indulge in the sort of florid verbosity even Dickens would have found excessive, it could be painful to say the least to pare a sentence down to the barest minimum.

"Murder your darlings?" My dear, I had to murder them, cremate them, and burn the ashes, but I got my 500 words. Whether the resulting story, which I have titled "One Small Letter,"* survived the ordeal is up to you, the reader, to decide.

As for me, I need sleep. I can't express it more plainly than that.

*since changed to "Vowels"