This is not the kind of writing I usually post here. That’s why this introduction is necessary – I don’t want to unpleasantly surprise my readers. The reason you haven’t seen any of my attempts at serious fiction here up to now is that I’m painfully insecure about my short stories. But, I’m facing my fear today, because it’s Halloween.
So, whenever you’d like to read my story, kindly lower your expectations two or three notches and then click on the extended entry.
He stared at the blank canvas. It almost saddened him to paint something definite onto this pristine realm of endless possibilities. Maybe a white canvas is like a child who is told he can become anything he wants to be when he grows up – while in reality he will become whatever his limitations shape him into.
Being aware of your shortcomings is anything but an asset for an artist. It makes you question yourself at every turn, and he did. Working within his own boundaries made him feel like a fraud at times.
He felt he must get something to the gallery tonight so that it might be shown, and hopefully, sold by tomorrow. He needed this to be good enough to sell so that he could pay the rent this month.
Such pressures meant that inspiration sometimes took a back seat to the need to put something