Stories so small you can barely even see them in your Facebook news feed. My stories about the kid next door and the alarm system in my neighborhood are usually lost between the video about getting your cherry popped and the kitten that gobbles like a turkey.
Sometimes I think about writing big stories. Stories with titles so catchy, so sweetly seductive that the entire world wide web will circle like hungry vultures.
I’d put my feet up and enjoy watching the digital frenzy, the impersonal congratulations swarming in all directions: posts and reposts, tweets and retweets. I’d feel proud and accomplished — and why not?
I think I’m just I’m tired of the blog title drama. The click bait. The sensationalism.
Or it could be the residual effects of a month of writers’ block.
You know, I tried to make a list of big stories — predictable ideas with seductive titles. But all I came up with was my irritation about the way Scandal‘s turning out. (My partner says I’m taking the overly dramatized, yet underdeveloped plot too personally.)
Scandal. There’s another huge story that sucked me. And then spit me out.
Frankly I’m a little surprised you even found this post.