It has been 11 years since I published my first short story. I remember clearly the euphoria I had while drafting, and even more so the sense of cringe I felt when I read it a couple days later to start editing. But that’s a story for another day. It was a measly 900~ words, not so dissimilar to the first story I posted under this account (1.5k). Sure, I did have some experience in the sense that I had read tons of furry fics (and mainstream novels) beforehand, but oh boy, did I struggle when it...
I remember when I was younger, I was really good at a few things that could become good career paths. A lady told me that being a jack of all trades is good but it doesn't lead to greatness. I used to think she was wrong. It's wild to me in hindsight how right she was. My journey in IT is proof. From tester to field engineer to more advanced titles and back to field engineer. I've been good. But I have not been great. I got into IT pretty early in my 20s, but I didn't really dig deep until much...
I closed my laptop, walked a dozen steps, and plopped myself on the bed, when the words _“I'm a big, big girl in a small, small world”_ appeared in my head, complete with a piano soundtrack. I didn’t know the artist, but a quick search led me to the song (earworm::[Big Big World by Emilia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_Big_World_(song)?useskin=vector))...
A silver hair drifts to the floor, a loss is loss, whether of color or of presence.
A couple of days back, I found myself thinking about names in fiction—how much weight they carry, how much they whisper before a character ever acts.