Back in the Early Days of the Blogosphere

THERE WAS A BLOG WHICH purported to be by and about a poor little rich girl on the run from her rich and powerful — and cruel and overbearing — father. It was a fascinating read. I was never really sure whether it was truth or fiction, and not really certain it matters either way. The headspace the entries put you in was exciting, mysterious, eldritch in a non-fantastic way, and a wonderful (in a sense-of-wonder sense) head twist.

Another story — more palpably fictitious, but no less wonder-ful for all of that — that had a similar effect was that of Methuselah’s Daughter, which is still ongoing, albeit at not quite the same frenetic pace.

And, of similar delight, though I never could get into flash fiction, is the epistolary novella in tweets by Steven Soderberg. Just the idea of offering strobe-lit 140-character glimpses into a world and telling a story through them excites a frisson in the mental pathways.

I wonder what story of Dolly’s I could tell in that fashion.

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