The writing quest continues into it's umpteenth year while the battles continue to rage on the frontlines.
My Dearest Petunia,
I write to you on this Twenty-First day of January last with a heavy heart. I have shed much blood of our enemy. So much so that it has weighed my soul down to my aching knees. I speak, of course, of the ants - thousands and thousands of them swarm our position every hour without fail. We push them back with fist, hammer, and baking soda.
Between the constant barrage of icky ant intruders, I reflect upon the hellish year that has passed. May it burn in Hell alongside 2020, 2016, whatever year they invented soy allergies, and the year 1347. We all remember that year gravely.
Last year saw our competitions do very, very well...for a quitter. As you may have noticed with the infrequency of my communique, the distractions did mount ever higher. Good distractions - writing distractions that pushed me to complete a 1000-page project.
Now, my dear Petunia, it is back to ass-kicking and name-taking.
Whatever does this obscene proclamation mean for this correspondence, you may ask? Well, they have returned with frequency and volume. Everything has - from the new content to the old. My irreverence will live on in your heart everlasting. Or you shall tire of me and dox the site out of spite. It's a 50-50 chance at this rate.
Of note as well - I've begun streaming writing sessions on Twitch. And other random garbage that the Colonel makes me do for money. I jest, there is no money in writing.
Thus far, I have decided to squeeze myself through the incredibly small cheese grinder hole of three competition and/or submission process with a fourth to come. One asks the writer to put together a story around portals, another looking for general dark stuffs, and a TV pilot competition for half-an-hour scripts. I am elated to type everything with my weird, Kentucky accent in mind.
Please do write back soon, my dearest, as I feel the ants may begin another raid soon. My quest for the high score board continues unabated. remember me for who I was before this terrible war, for I shall come back with unwashable stains upon my soul.
And, I hope, a very shiny trophy.
By Myles Gann:
A redhead that isn't afraid to go blonde.
2022 Victory Laps:
2021 Victory Laps:
Imposter: A Poetry Journal (Published)
NYC Midnight (Honorable Mention)
The Green Shoes Sanctuary (2nd Place)
102 scripts written
14 writers helped