Now that Flahes of the Hypersonic Express, Volume 1 is complete, I thought I would share some of my creative process.

I started writing these flash fiction stories about nine years ago when I was in college and taking Oregon’s public transit every day. The people and sights inspired me, and I was looking for a writing challenge. So I forced myself to try to write a story in the fifteen-ish minutes that I was on the bus. Most of the time, the stories ended unfinished, but I completed many of them later. I ended up with about 30 such stories.

I self-published 15 of them back in 2016 as part of a chapbook collection. They got zero attention, so I decided to polish them up and repost them here. They’re free this time, so I’m hoping they each get a few more views than last time. I have also taken to Instagram to turn them into dramatic readings, since that’s really how I imagine them. I hope to do a second set of stories at some point in the future.

In addition to being inspired by place, I have always found music to be extremely important to my creative process. One song that grounded this series was “Bullet Train” by Stephen Swartz. The song has a driving rhythm that contrasts ironically with the singer’s mournful regret of moving too fast. It has spoken to me in my own short life, and even if you aren’t a fan of dubstep, I’m sure you can share the feeling.

My writing also usually borrows bits from science or fantasy, and I often find myself distracted by impromptu research. In this case, I spent quite a bit of time reading about Japan’s Bullet Train system, high speed rails, and why we don’t have them. While the most advanced ones currently average speeds between 200-300 mph, my Hypersonic Express more closely resembles the Hyperloop Project as proposed by Elon Musk. While the technology was not the focal point of the stories, I imagined that in a world where this form of transportation was the norm, life would feel like it was moving even faster than it does now.

At the end of the day, these stories are dedicated to my grandfather, Mark McIntyre. Some of my fondest memories are of him retelling old fables, teaching me to drive, and reminding me to slow down and watch as life unfolded. Thank you, Papa, and thank you to everyone else who has gone on this journey with me. I hope to see you on the next go ’round.