OK, the deadline has passed, so I’m allowed to publish my entry for the 100-word microfiction challenge I wrote about earlier.

I didn’t make it to the second round, but it was still fun. The assignment was to write an original 100-word story in an assigned genre, include the assigned action, incorporate the assigned word, and do it all within 24 hours:

GROUP: 1
GENRE: Sci-Fi
ACTION: Bumping
WORD: brilliant

Without further ado:

The holographic screen flickered above everyone’s heads. It was quarter past whatever time was in space. People bumped into each other, eagerly waiting for the town hall to start—even though there was no town, no hall, no Earth. No blue skies, no red sunsets, no leafy smells, or sea sounds. None of that. Perished.

Quite the contrast with the metal and sweat surrounding them right now. The design of the generation ship was brilliant, actually. But it was not home.

The screen flickered once more, and they heard:

“As you may already know, my name is Noah.”

When you’re an aspiring writer, you try to justify everything you write and put into your book. Every little thing needs its own reason to exist in the text. You try to think of everything.

Let’s take the 100-word writing challenge I participated in, for example. I didn’t get through to the second round, sadly, but it was a fun experience, and I’ll be able to publish my little story later this month. Stay tuned.

The feedback from the judges is strict. They judge every word, and you need to be able to answer for each one you put in your submission.

Then you sit down to watch some TV with your wife, and one of the main protagonists of a well-known TV show, in its fifth and final season, suddenly becomes an IT technician who understands CCTV wiring and can loop cameras by simply switching a cable — all to get inside a military base slash laboratory. This trope is well-worn, yet it is so strange to watch.

But I guess you can see such lazy writing from two angles. On the one hand, it’s quite upsetting to see this in one of the most watched TV shows right now. On the other hand, if this kind of writing is good enough for the big guys who made it, it means you can do it too.

It’s inspiring, really — in its own bad-writing, oddly reassuring, impostor-syndrome-relieving kind of way.

I participated in the The 100-word Microfiction Challenge 2026 and submitted my short story on March 21, 2026.

I'm not allowed to share it publicly yet because the competition is currently underway, but I will publish it here once the embargo is lifted. Right now, I can say that it's really fun, and the 100-word limit really grinds your gears.

The Flash Fiction challenge next? Who knows...

I'm writing a book.

This is what I'm doing in the evenings in my free time instead of vibe-coding another groundbreaking SaaS. This is my side project. A side hustle, if you prefer.

It's a silly little detective story set in Saint Petersburg, 1881. In my head, it’s a perfect mix of Boris Akunin and Florian Illies, with a pinch of alternative history on top. It's in Russian, and I’m pretty sure it won’t be finished anytime soon.

I have a story in my mind, and I want to find out if I’m able to put it down on “paper.” Current status: just under 10,000 words. I’m sharing it publicly to keep myself accountable and will post status updates every week on this blog. Stay tuned.

Will it be good? Probably not.

Do I understand that writing a book in 2025 is considered stupid “because AI will replace everyone, especially writers”? Yes, it might be. And I love that.

Will it be published? I have no idea. I just decided to start it just to make my life more exciting.

If you want to support me on this journey, you can always buy me a coffee. ☕ And if it ever gets published, I’ll make sure to send you a signed copy.