I have failed.
This was the year that was supposed to be different. The momentum I brought into 2018 in terms of writing was going to continue. Regardless of results, I was going to continue to produce content, with a commitment to write at least something every day. And my serial neglect of my blog would end as well.
Yeah, so that didn't work.
I don't completely understand it, either. It worked for quite some time after I learned of the stories that were being published. I thought I had finally established a pattern, a routine - something that would carry me when motivation was hard to find.
I fell off the wagon in April, as seems to happen every year. But I knew it was happening. And I swore to myself it wouldn't completely derail me.
I never have an abundance of time to write. But I have enough - small chunks of time here and there. Yet I squander it. I've allowed life to get in the way. And I've made excuses. There was the chaos of preparing for a new baseball season. And the trip to Albany for my son's Youth of the Year candidacy with the Boys & Girls Club. But even surrounding all of that busy-ness, I had time to write. I chose to procrastinate instead.
I'm currently building flower gardens around my house. Hard physical work. But again, I have time for writing after I've finished for the day. I have contests that I intend to enter with deadlines rapidly approaching, and a call for a submission from a niche press that published a story of mine this winter. But do I pick up my notebook and relax with a few pages of prose, and some progress toward the deadlines?
Nope. I pick up the PlayStation controller, or grab the remote to flip on a few old episodes of Gilmore Girls. (Don't judge - the show is freaking hilarious.)
I have written this post as a call to action. I've laid out my failings "on paper", and I'm publishing them into the world (or at least, the tiny fraction of the world that sees this blog).
I can't hide from it anymore - so if you hear the Gilmore Girls theme song around me, ask me if I've written anything yet today. And then take away the remote until I do. :)
Tuesday, June 12, 2018
Monday, April 23, 2018
The best laid plans...
Historically, April is a difficult month for me to accomplish much in the realm of writing and blogging. It seems like every year, there are a large number of contests and calls for submissions with a deadline at or near the end of March. So March tends to be a whirlwind of writing activity, which sometimes dries up the creativity for a bit.
April also brings with it major time-killers with regards to my coaching and planning duties at the Boys and Girls Club. Playoffs and All-Star events take place for all four levels of the floor hockey league, and with preparation for the end of season awards banquets is always time-consuming. At the same time, preparations are in full swing for the upcoming baseball season, including coaches meetings, schedule planning, rules revisions and umpire training.
Usually means virtually nothing occurs on the writing front for most of the month.
But this year was going to be different. See, an odd quirk in the hockey schedule meant that I had two Saturdays off at the very beginning of the month. Along with that, baseball planning had begun earlier than normal, and was running smoothly. April 2018 would NOT be a writing wasteland after all!
Umm, yeah....so....
This is my first blog post since March ended, and I've written nothing of any real substance in that span either. And I have no real idea why, other than perhaps lack of motivation. Apparently the April slump has become too habitual.
Curse you April. Curse you.
April also brings with it major time-killers with regards to my coaching and planning duties at the Boys and Girls Club. Playoffs and All-Star events take place for all four levels of the floor hockey league, and with preparation for the end of season awards banquets is always time-consuming. At the same time, preparations are in full swing for the upcoming baseball season, including coaches meetings, schedule planning, rules revisions and umpire training.
Usually means virtually nothing occurs on the writing front for most of the month.
But this year was going to be different. See, an odd quirk in the hockey schedule meant that I had two Saturdays off at the very beginning of the month. Along with that, baseball planning had begun earlier than normal, and was running smoothly. April 2018 would NOT be a writing wasteland after all!
Umm, yeah....so....
This is my first blog post since March ended, and I've written nothing of any real substance in that span either. And I have no real idea why, other than perhaps lack of motivation. Apparently the April slump has become too habitual.
Curse you April. Curse you.
Saturday, March 31, 2018
Wordiness CONQUERED!
For now at least. LOL
Final story comes in at 1197 words.
And while I think the story may have been better with a scene included that I was forced to cut, I'm actually far more satisfied with the end result than I thought I would be.
Fingers crossed that the judges feel the same way.
Final story comes in at 1197 words.
And while I think the story may have been better with a scene included that I was forced to cut, I'm actually far more satisfied with the end result than I thought I would be.
Fingers crossed that the judges feel the same way.
Thursday, March 29, 2018
Words, words, words....
I have often been accused of being too wordy.
See, I like to communicate clearly, and sometimes I feel like the wordiness is necessary to get my point across correctly the first time.
Others disagree. :)
But my wordiness is currently biting me in the backside. I am in progress on a contest piece. A short story to be inspired by the song "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" from Elton John.
And my concept for the story is damned good, if I do say so myself.
I feel like I'm probably about halfway finished. About 1050 words so far.
The contest requires the story to be between 1000 and 1200 words.
Yeah, so...heavy editing to come? LOL
See, I like to communicate clearly, and sometimes I feel like the wordiness is necessary to get my point across correctly the first time.
Others disagree. :)
But my wordiness is currently biting me in the backside. I am in progress on a contest piece. A short story to be inspired by the song "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" from Elton John.
And my concept for the story is damned good, if I do say so myself.
I feel like I'm probably about halfway finished. About 1050 words so far.
The contest requires the story to be between 1000 and 1200 words.
Yeah, so...heavy editing to come? LOL
Monday, March 26, 2018
The Work of the Lord
This is an excerpt of a longer piece that is in the process of being revised...
“M-M-Maggie?” he stammered, suddenly aware that he was trembling; quaking with fear and uncertainty. He took a brief glance at the bourbon, then back at the approaching figure. No amount of faith was going to convince him that any of this was real or even possible – certainly he was still passed out somewhere as a result of last night’s prodigious imbibing.
“Yes, Christopher – and regardless of your level of faith at the moment, this IS absolutely possible. After all, as you so often state at the end of your sermons, all things are truly possible with our God.”
The voice paused briefly, the figure outline still approaching slowly.
“Now REAL, that is another question – one man’s reality is often another’s fantasy.”
“So then what exactly is going on here? Am I dreaming, or just losing my mind?” cried the pastor, his voice shaking.
The voice laughed softly. “Aren’t they kind of the same thing? Dreaming, along with thinking, praying, and reflecting – all also ways you can temporarily ‘lose your mind’; at least the conscious part. Unspoken communication with our Lord can take many forms – including the times you’re not even intentionally speaking to Him.”
“I don’t get it,” he whispered, shaking his head.
“Well, you’ve often professed that God is within us all. Is that not true?”
Christopher snapped, “Fine, so you’re saying they’re all different ways for God to speak to me. Doesn’t exactly answer the question I asked. But if you don’t want to answer that, maybe you can explain how I still have no idea why our oh-so-wonderful Creator took you away from me!”
“Oh silly, you already know that – you did tell the congregation about the loss of their ‘beloved choir leader, your wife Margaret’. Remember?” the voice chided.
“Oh c’mon, Maggie – 'God needed someone with her beautiful soul to assist Him with his work in heaven' – that’s the kind of thing we tell ourselves to try to feel better about loss! You don’t actually think I believed that line of crap, do you?”
The voice was silent a moment before replying, “Well, I guess we’re back to that tricky reality issue, aren’t we?”
“M-M-Maggie?” he stammered, suddenly aware that he was trembling; quaking with fear and uncertainty. He took a brief glance at the bourbon, then back at the approaching figure. No amount of faith was going to convince him that any of this was real or even possible – certainly he was still passed out somewhere as a result of last night’s prodigious imbibing.
“Yes, Christopher – and regardless of your level of faith at the moment, this IS absolutely possible. After all, as you so often state at the end of your sermons, all things are truly possible with our God.”
The voice paused briefly, the figure outline still approaching slowly.
“Now REAL, that is another question – one man’s reality is often another’s fantasy.”
“So then what exactly is going on here? Am I dreaming, or just losing my mind?” cried the pastor, his voice shaking.
The voice laughed softly. “Aren’t they kind of the same thing? Dreaming, along with thinking, praying, and reflecting – all also ways you can temporarily ‘lose your mind’; at least the conscious part. Unspoken communication with our Lord can take many forms – including the times you’re not even intentionally speaking to Him.”
“I don’t get it,” he whispered, shaking his head.
“Well, you’ve often professed that God is within us all. Is that not true?”
Christopher snapped, “Fine, so you’re saying they’re all different ways for God to speak to me. Doesn’t exactly answer the question I asked. But if you don’t want to answer that, maybe you can explain how I still have no idea why our oh-so-wonderful Creator took you away from me!”
“Oh silly, you already know that – you did tell the congregation about the loss of their ‘beloved choir leader, your wife Margaret’. Remember?” the voice chided.
“Oh c’mon, Maggie – 'God needed someone with her beautiful soul to assist Him with his work in heaven' – that’s the kind of thing we tell ourselves to try to feel better about loss! You don’t actually think I believed that line of crap, do you?”
The voice was silent a moment before replying, “Well, I guess we’re back to that tricky reality issue, aren’t we?”
Thursday, March 22, 2018
Contributor Spotlight
So, one of the editors of the anthology I appeared in (click here if you still need a copy!) has been putting together interview-like articles called Contributor Spotlights for some of the writers and artists featured in the book. Today is my turn. So click the link below if you'd like to learn a little more about the story I wrote and about me as a writer.
https://anchalastudios.weebly.com/contributorspotlight/norm-titterington
A big thanks to Ms. Anne Anthony (co-editor of "Flash Fiction for Flash Memory") for making me sound somewhat interesting. :)
As for the picture...well, perhaps I should've opted for one in my goalie mask and pads.
Wednesday, March 21, 2018
When It Rains
She
left on a Tuesday. A rainy Tuesday, fittingly enough, marked by the most
intense thunder and lightning display we’d seen that summer. She always loved
the rain – especially a powerful late evening thunderstorm. We both did. The
moment a storm began to move in, we’d head out the front door, giddy with
anticipation. We’d sit on the porch swing, listening to the thunder crackling
and rolling as the lightning streaked across the sky in a wicked electrical
dance. I’d turn her around to look at me, and she’d flash her wicked grin as I
gazed into her fiery green eyes; I always knew exactly what she desired in
those moments.
We’d
make passionate love in the dark with the thunder and lightning as our
soundtrack and fireworks, while the raindrops that snuck past the porch roof
sprinkled an occasional gentle coolness across the heat of our entangled bodies.
And when she would fall asleep in my arms back on the porch swing, I would hold
her close to me and look to the heavens, giving thanks for the storm, and for
her love – because I knew both were too intense and fast-moving to last. I
still taste her on my lips anytime it rains.
I
moved to Phoenix last year – it never rains here.
Tuesday, March 13, 2018
Review
The editors shared a review of the anthology on the group's Facebook page yesterday. I haven't paid a ton of attention to the reviews, but at the time that I received the Facebook notification, I was on my break at work, so I clicked on it. (NOTE: You'll have to click on the pic below to read it - making it bigger didn't play nicely with the blog format, apparently.)
Yay! Someone other than my wife and I enjoyed my story! :)
Yay! Someone other than my wife and I enjoyed my story! :)
* * * * * * *
So, the anthology was named an "Amazon Best Seller" for reaching the top 100 books in its category (I believe topping out in the low 60s at some point). Given the sheer number of books in the Amazon system, it's a pretty major accomplishment for a small press like Anchala. I'm honored to have been a tiny part of their success.
Still a little surreal seeing my name on the page of a real book, though.
Friday, March 2, 2018
Read Across America - Launch Day is here!!
The day is finally here, my friends! Launch Day for "The Collection: Flash Fiction for Flash Memory" has arrived.
March 2nd has also been designated as Read Across America day, with the entire month of March being dedicated to the love and pursuit of reading. A time to share the joy of reading with the ones you care about. What better way to celebrate than by picking up a brand new collection of short stories written by a large number of talented people?
(Oh yeah, I wrote one of them too.) Get the book here: http://bit.ly/collection0302
So why this book? Well, let's be frank about something. Memory loss is a real issue as we age. And with the busy lives we all lead, it's not even always about aging - I have days where at 5:00 PM I'm lucky to remember what I did at noon if I didn't write it down. This book is targeted for people who have a love of reading, but struggle to remember the plot of longer pieces. It is a collection of positive stories that take a few short minutes to read, thus allowing even those who are having difficulty with memory to enjoy a complete tale.
The truth is we all have flash memory. As we move through our busy lives, finding the time to read longer narratives can be a challenge. These shorter fiction pieces between 500 and 750 words offer a flash of story to enjoy and the opportunity to connect and share with friends and family members of all ages. Most of all they are here to be enjoyed!
*************
Here’s what some of the people who have already read the book have to say:
"It's said that good things come in small packages…here's proof. These small stories linger large…for reading, discussing, remembering."
—Ruth Moose, Award-winning novelist and short story writer
"For most of human history, stories were shared aloud —in this collection, we are invited to regain that intimate space where speaker and listener shape a story into life. These flash fictions are like a Polaroid image, swiftly appearing before our eyes, a moment caught and made more precious by sharing."
—Valerie Nieman, author of Hotel Worthy and LifeVerse Instructor
"When my memory starts to fail me, I want to be reminded—as Flash Fiction for Flash Memory does so well—of how it feels to be touched by a good story. To break through the cobwebs in my mind and travel to places near and far, if just for a moment. Where paragraphs teach lessons and unite families. Where sentences evoke magic. And where hope and love are the four-letter words that matter the most."
—Landis Wade, author of The Christmas Redemption.
"Peer through the window into a world of emotions. From the aching loss on a one-lane bridge to the tangled memories that fill an empty box, each story in this collection leads you step by step through heartache and hope, until you realize that you’re not looking through a window at all, but into a mirror."
—Monica Sanchez, PhD, Co-editor, Storytelling: Interdisciplinary and Intercultural Perspectives.
*************
To learn more about this project, visit http://anchalastudios.weebly.com/
To get the book, click here: http://bit.ly/collection0302
I hope you will all enjoy The Collection as much as I enjoyed being a part of it!
March 2nd has also been designated as Read Across America day, with the entire month of March being dedicated to the love and pursuit of reading. A time to share the joy of reading with the ones you care about. What better way to celebrate than by picking up a brand new collection of short stories written by a large number of talented people?
(Oh yeah, I wrote one of them too.) Get the book here: http://bit.ly/collection0302
So why this book? Well, let's be frank about something. Memory loss is a real issue as we age. And with the busy lives we all lead, it's not even always about aging - I have days where at 5:00 PM I'm lucky to remember what I did at noon if I didn't write it down. This book is targeted for people who have a love of reading, but struggle to remember the plot of longer pieces. It is a collection of positive stories that take a few short minutes to read, thus allowing even those who are having difficulty with memory to enjoy a complete tale.
The truth is we all have flash memory. As we move through our busy lives, finding the time to read longer narratives can be a challenge. These shorter fiction pieces between 500 and 750 words offer a flash of story to enjoy and the opportunity to connect and share with friends and family members of all ages. Most of all they are here to be enjoyed!
*************
Here’s what some of the people who have already read the book have to say:
"It's said that good things come in small packages…here's proof. These small stories linger large…for reading, discussing, remembering."
—Ruth Moose, Award-winning novelist and short story writer
"For most of human history, stories were shared aloud —in this collection, we are invited to regain that intimate space where speaker and listener shape a story into life. These flash fictions are like a Polaroid image, swiftly appearing before our eyes, a moment caught and made more precious by sharing."
—Valerie Nieman, author of Hotel Worthy and LifeVerse Instructor
"When my memory starts to fail me, I want to be reminded—as Flash Fiction for Flash Memory does so well—of how it feels to be touched by a good story. To break through the cobwebs in my mind and travel to places near and far, if just for a moment. Where paragraphs teach lessons and unite families. Where sentences evoke magic. And where hope and love are the four-letter words that matter the most."
—Landis Wade, author of The Christmas Redemption.
"Peer through the window into a world of emotions. From the aching loss on a one-lane bridge to the tangled memories that fill an empty box, each story in this collection leads you step by step through heartache and hope, until you realize that you’re not looking through a window at all, but into a mirror."
—Monica Sanchez, PhD, Co-editor, Storytelling: Interdisciplinary and Intercultural Perspectives.
*************
To learn more about this project, visit http://anchalastudios.weebly.com/
To get the book, click here: http://bit.ly/collection0302
I hope you will all enjoy The Collection as much as I enjoyed being a part of it!
Thursday, March 1, 2018
March 2, 2018 - a red-letter date in the history of science...
OK, so maybe not science. (Kudos to those who get the quote.) But a fantastic Friday on tap nonetheless!
March 2, 2018. The date of the release of "The Collection: Flash Fiction for Flash Memory", featuring my story "One Night Only". Along with a number of other outstanding pieces, of course. (Check back here tomorrow for a link to purchase on Amazon!!!!) I'm proud and excited to be a part of this project, and I hope many of you will decide to invest in a terrific collection of stories.
March 2, 2018. Tickets go on sale for Metallica's long-awaited return to Buffalo, NY. (which will be my son's first Metallica show!) We missed out on getting to see them last summer in Toronto, but nothing will stop us this time around.
March 2, 2018. A late winter snowstorm will blanket Western new York and make travel very difficult, and cause frustration and backaches throughout the entire region.
OK, well I suppose two out of three ain't bad. :)
March 2, 2018. The date of the release of "The Collection: Flash Fiction for Flash Memory", featuring my story "One Night Only". Along with a number of other outstanding pieces, of course. (Check back here tomorrow for a link to purchase on Amazon!!!!) I'm proud and excited to be a part of this project, and I hope many of you will decide to invest in a terrific collection of stories.
March 2, 2018. Tickets go on sale for Metallica's long-awaited return to Buffalo, NY. (which will be my son's first Metallica show!) We missed out on getting to see them last summer in Toronto, but nothing will stop us this time around.
March 2, 2018. A late winter snowstorm will blanket Western new York and make travel very difficult, and cause frustration and backaches throughout the entire region.
OK, well I suppose two out of three ain't bad. :)
Friday, February 23, 2018
It's here!
My "contributor copy" of the anthology has arrived. It's still a little surreal, seeing my name in print. I've read some of the stories, and I am humbled to be surrounded by the collection of talent. There are playwrights, artists, and a large number of published and award-winning authors in this collection.
And little ol' me. I sometimes wonder if they made a mistake. :)
It will be available for purchase March 2 via Amazon. I'll be promoting the link when it becomes active. If you have any interest in fiction, please consider supporting the project - it's truly an amazing idea.
See? In print. Weird, right?
And little ol' me. I sometimes wonder if they made a mistake. :)
It will be available for purchase March 2 via Amazon. I'll be promoting the link when it becomes active. If you have any interest in fiction, please consider supporting the project - it's truly an amazing idea.
See? In print. Weird, right?
Sunday, February 18, 2018
One More Trip
This is an excerpt of a longer piece that was an honorable mention in a short story contest about 8 years ago. The theme for the contest was stories inspired by a song from 1977 - in this case, "Always Crashing in the Same Car" by David Bowie - a song written about repeating mistakes. Something the characters in this brief tale are well-versed in...
"Dude...Dude...DUDE!!! I think I'm pregnant with kittens," she whispered, frantically scanning the room to ensure no one else was listening. Her eyes widened as she continued, "I hear faint meowing every time I close my eyes, and it feels like the tiny paws are trying to claw their way out of my womb - they must be afraid of the dark!"
My brain had marinated in far too much Jack Daniels to properly contemplate the improbability of a feline-human pregnancy. Nor did it occur to me to mention that kittens are born blind, and with no real claws.
"Have you ever had sex with a cat?" I queried instead, apparently far louder than she wished.
She put her finger to my lips to shush me and replied, "Man, there's four of them taking turns on me right now! Their little tongues tickle."
Mr. Daniels again squelched the logical portion of my brain, so I failed to point out the usual time frame between conception and fetal escape attempts.
"Those must be some seriously virile cats," I proclaimed as I drained the bottle next to me. "Someone should call Ripley's, man!"
"Do you know the number?"
"Eleventy-six and eight," I offered proudly, just before everything went black.
I awakened to her lying on my chest, shaking violently and bawling like an upset infant.
"Come back! Please come back," she sobbed, gasping for air in her panicked state. "I'm afraid to be alone - and everyone is gone except for the cats!"
Her trips had often frightened me, but this seemed a bit beyond the usual, and maybe longer - no telling how long I'd been out. She was far more experienced with acid than I, even though I was the one who'd introduced her to hallucinogenics. I did it a few times, but for the most part, simply adding the right amount of booze altered reality just enough for me. She loved the acid though - and to be fair, the amount of alcohol I regularly consumed meant I couldn't justify being too preachy about her habits.
"Dude...Dude...DUDE!!! I think I'm pregnant with kittens," she whispered, frantically scanning the room to ensure no one else was listening. Her eyes widened as she continued, "I hear faint meowing every time I close my eyes, and it feels like the tiny paws are trying to claw their way out of my womb - they must be afraid of the dark!"
My brain had marinated in far too much Jack Daniels to properly contemplate the improbability of a feline-human pregnancy. Nor did it occur to me to mention that kittens are born blind, and with no real claws.
"Have you ever had sex with a cat?" I queried instead, apparently far louder than she wished.
She put her finger to my lips to shush me and replied, "Man, there's four of them taking turns on me right now! Their little tongues tickle."
Mr. Daniels again squelched the logical portion of my brain, so I failed to point out the usual time frame between conception and fetal escape attempts.
"Those must be some seriously virile cats," I proclaimed as I drained the bottle next to me. "Someone should call Ripley's, man!"
"Do you know the number?"
"Eleventy-six and eight," I offered proudly, just before everything went black.
********
I awakened to her lying on my chest, shaking violently and bawling like an upset infant.
"Come back! Please come back," she sobbed, gasping for air in her panicked state. "I'm afraid to be alone - and everyone is gone except for the cats!"
Her trips had often frightened me, but this seemed a bit beyond the usual, and maybe longer - no telling how long I'd been out. She was far more experienced with acid than I, even though I was the one who'd introduced her to hallucinogenics. I did it a few times, but for the most part, simply adding the right amount of booze altered reality just enough for me. She loved the acid though - and to be fair, the amount of alcohol I regularly consumed meant I couldn't justify being too preachy about her habits.
Saturday, February 17, 2018
Departure
"Flight 8118 to Boston is in final boarding now - all ticketed passengers must proceed to Gate 26A immediately!"
It was a tearful goodbye. A new job. A new location.
A new life? "No way!" she exclaimed.
Promises that the distance wouldn't break their love, that it would be eliminated "soon enough". Those empty words haunt now.
A pile of memories burns in the fireplace. An engagement notice from the Boston Herald joins the smoky purge as he now says a final and much less mournful farewell.
It was a tearful goodbye. A new job. A new location.
A new life? "No way!" she exclaimed.
Promises that the distance wouldn't break their love, that it would be eliminated "soon enough". Those empty words haunt now.
A pile of memories burns in the fireplace. An engagement notice from the Boston Herald joins the smoky purge as he now says a final and much less mournful farewell.
Tuesday, February 6, 2018
Publishing updates....
So, as previously noted, the release date for the flash fiction anthology in which I will be published is March 2nd. Here are a few more details regarding the book:
- It will retail through Amazon at a price of $14.95
- The book contains over 40 short pieces (including my piece, "One Night Only"), along with some artwork and photography
- Front cover:
I am honored and humbled to be a part of this project. I hope everybody will check it out when it hits Amazon - it's a worthwhile endeavor.
In another update...I'm finally a paid writer as well! A short story I've written is being included in a specialized niche anthology. I have been paid a whopping $15.00!!!! But hey, I'll take it. Maybe it's the start of a trend.
Or maybe it's just a little extra beer money.
- It will retail through Amazon at a price of $14.95
- The book contains over 40 short pieces (including my piece, "One Night Only"), along with some artwork and photography
- Front cover:
- Back cover:
I am honored and humbled to be a part of this project. I hope everybody will check it out when it hits Amazon - it's a worthwhile endeavor.
In another update...I'm finally a paid writer as well! A short story I've written is being included in a specialized niche anthology. I have been paid a whopping $15.00!!!! But hey, I'll take it. Maybe it's the start of a trend.
Or maybe it's just a little extra beer money.
Sunday, January 28, 2018
Appearances...
Sure, she was attractive enough in a plain, conservative sort of manner. But no one would have guessed what the staid, gray pantsuit was hiding as she strolled into the office. It was even less likely that that someone would have realized that her hair wasn't tousled by the wind during her lunch break...
Monday, January 22, 2018
Betrayed
The glass drained in one swift gulp, he slammed it down on the bar, ice cubes clinking against the sides as he motioned to the bartender for another refill of the amber-colored tonic that he hoped would make it all go away. But no matter how many times the barkeep poured, or how many drinks he emptied, the heartache remained, burning straight to his core.
"How could she?" he barked at the bartender. "How could she do it, Mike? You've known her just as long as I have.......how did this happen?"
Mike shook his head, never looking up from the glasses he was washing. "Doesn't sound like the Dani I knew, man. You sure about this?"
"I saw it with my own damn eyes, man!" He slammed his glass down on the bar again, ice sliding across the glossy surface as the glass tipped over, rolled off and hit the floor with the tinkle of shattering glass. "I saw the shadows through the living room curtains. She's doing it in my own freaking house!"
"Well, then how long has it been going on, Shawn?"
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he snarled. "And where's my refill?"
"Once you've broken your third glass of the night, I think you're far too drunk to be served anymore. And you've suddenly been in here almost every night for about a month - which is ten times as much as I normally see you - draining every drop of J.D. I can find.”
Mike looked up into Shawn's ashen face.
"So exactly how many times have you seen it with your own eyes?"
Shawn dropped a pair of twenties on the bar and walked away wordlessly, slamming the door as he exited. Mike went back to his glass washing, wondering if perhaps he should be a better friend.
"How could she?" he barked at the bartender. "How could she do it, Mike? You've known her just as long as I have.......how did this happen?"
Mike shook his head, never looking up from the glasses he was washing. "Doesn't sound like the Dani I knew, man. You sure about this?"
"I saw it with my own damn eyes, man!" He slammed his glass down on the bar again, ice sliding across the glossy surface as the glass tipped over, rolled off and hit the floor with the tinkle of shattering glass. "I saw the shadows through the living room curtains. She's doing it in my own freaking house!"
"Well, then how long has it been going on, Shawn?"
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he snarled. "And where's my refill?"
"Once you've broken your third glass of the night, I think you're far too drunk to be served anymore. And you've suddenly been in here almost every night for about a month - which is ten times as much as I normally see you - draining every drop of J.D. I can find.”
Mike looked up into Shawn's ashen face.
"So exactly how many times have you seen it with your own eyes?"
Shawn dropped a pair of twenties on the bar and walked away wordlessly, slamming the door as he exited. Mike went back to his glass washing, wondering if perhaps he should be a better friend.
Wednesday, January 17, 2018
Anthology update
So, the anthology which will feature a short story of mine now has a firm launch date, which nicely coincides with "National Read Across America Day" on March 2nd. For those who need a little background on the story, see this post:
https://a-writer-in-progress.blogspot.com/2017/12/note-to-self.html
The editors recently put up a "Meet the Writers" page (link below), and those of us contributing to the anthology were asked to ensure that our information was displayed correctly. I did so, and then browsed through some of the other writers involved. I was immediately humbled. There are real writers being featured in this collection. People who get paid to create stories! Authors of books, writers whose stories have been featured in a number of literary journals, and creators whose work has won prestigious awards.
And me. The hobbyist who scrawls a few sentences when he isn't overwhelmed with work, coaching, volunteering or family. I'm both flattered and terrified to be included with such a talented group.
Anchala Studios - Meet the Writers
The anthology is titled "The Collection: Flash Fiction for Flash Memory". The inspiration behind the creation of the anthology is beautiful and heart-tugging - after you've checked out the "Meet the Writers" page, click HOME at the top of the screen and read the story behind the stories. The moment I finished that page, I knew I wanted very much to be a part of such an amazing project.
And now I am. It's all a little surreal and unexpected. To this point in my life, the only time my name was in print was in advertisements during my previous career in sales. Yet in less than two months, my name will appear in an actual, published book.
Damn.
https://a-writer-in-progress.blogspot.com/2017/12/note-to-self.html
The editors recently put up a "Meet the Writers" page (link below), and those of us contributing to the anthology were asked to ensure that our information was displayed correctly. I did so, and then browsed through some of the other writers involved. I was immediately humbled. There are real writers being featured in this collection. People who get paid to create stories! Authors of books, writers whose stories have been featured in a number of literary journals, and creators whose work has won prestigious awards.
And me. The hobbyist who scrawls a few sentences when he isn't overwhelmed with work, coaching, volunteering or family. I'm both flattered and terrified to be included with such a talented group.
Anchala Studios - Meet the Writers
The anthology is titled "The Collection: Flash Fiction for Flash Memory". The inspiration behind the creation of the anthology is beautiful and heart-tugging - after you've checked out the "Meet the Writers" page, click HOME at the top of the screen and read the story behind the stories. The moment I finished that page, I knew I wanted very much to be a part of such an amazing project.
And now I am. It's all a little surreal and unexpected. To this point in my life, the only time my name was in print was in advertisements during my previous career in sales. Yet in less than two months, my name will appear in an actual, published book.
Damn.
Tuesday, January 16, 2018
And the point is...
So, as I alluded to in the post regarding writer's block, the only writing that is currently making real progress is a piece that I didn't really set out to write. Well, at least not in the form it seems to be taking.
I began writing a piece directed at a contest where the theme was "body language". I had this funny pair of lines in the writing journal that seemed like the perfect starting point, and began crafting a piece about two women on a video-chat date. It allowed me to weave in different types of body language that would help tell the story and describe the women at the same time.
A minor problem soon appeared. The contest had a strict limit of 1200 words - and there was no way this piece was going to wrap in that space. So I put it aside to work on other things.
Or so I thought.
Every time I tried to work on a different project, the video date story reared its head. A thought would enter my mind, and I'd write a few more paragraphs. Then came my trip to California.
I had a week-long trip to San Jose scheduled for some job training. I'm not much of a traveler. Not a huge fan of flying (as odd as that may be, given that I work in the aviation industry!), and mostly would just prefer to be at home. So I make sure to have plenty of distractions when I fly in (usually fruitless) attempts to make the time pass a bit more quickly.
I brought a couple of books, and some of my writing work. Including the video date story.
I started out the flight to California with a movie, but eventually pulled out my writing. And the story just came pouring out. With very minimal effort, I'd filled close to fifteen pages. Throughout the trip and the return flight it continued. And now I have this sprawling piece, and I have no earthly idea what the correct direction is.
It's too long for a short story. Seems like a pretty limited concept for a novel, or even a novella. The story is currently taking the shape of a real-time view of this date, which I think is approaching hour four or five.
Don't ask me what the point of this post is. I don't have a clue on that direction either.
I began writing a piece directed at a contest where the theme was "body language". I had this funny pair of lines in the writing journal that seemed like the perfect starting point, and began crafting a piece about two women on a video-chat date. It allowed me to weave in different types of body language that would help tell the story and describe the women at the same time.
A minor problem soon appeared. The contest had a strict limit of 1200 words - and there was no way this piece was going to wrap in that space. So I put it aside to work on other things.
Or so I thought.
Every time I tried to work on a different project, the video date story reared its head. A thought would enter my mind, and I'd write a few more paragraphs. Then came my trip to California.
I had a week-long trip to San Jose scheduled for some job training. I'm not much of a traveler. Not a huge fan of flying (as odd as that may be, given that I work in the aviation industry!), and mostly would just prefer to be at home. So I make sure to have plenty of distractions when I fly in (usually fruitless) attempts to make the time pass a bit more quickly.
I brought a couple of books, and some of my writing work. Including the video date story.
I started out the flight to California with a movie, but eventually pulled out my writing. And the story just came pouring out. With very minimal effort, I'd filled close to fifteen pages. Throughout the trip and the return flight it continued. And now I have this sprawling piece, and I have no earthly idea what the correct direction is.
It's too long for a short story. Seems like a pretty limited concept for a novel, or even a novella. The story is currently taking the shape of a real-time view of this date, which I think is approaching hour four or five.
Don't ask me what the point of this post is. I don't have a clue on that direction either.
Saturday, January 13, 2018
Rivals
"This is why we are here, men!" the old coach barked, pounding his fist into his palm for emphasis.
"This is the reason we bust our asses every day. It's why you run twice as hard and practice twice as long, and why I yell twice as loud!"
He held up the daily sports page, pointing a battered, crooked finger at the headline.
"To finally defeat that damned team..."
"This is the reason we bust our asses every day. It's why you run twice as hard and practice twice as long, and why I yell twice as loud!"
He held up the daily sports page, pointing a battered, crooked finger at the headline.
"To finally defeat that damned team..."
Tuesday, January 9, 2018
Blocked?
He sat under his favorite tree by the river, enjoying the cool late summer breeze as it passed over the water. This was HIS place - his getaway for a bit of solitude and a few minutes away from everyday distractions. Yet he sat with pencil in hand, unable to break the block. The blank page seemed to mock his inability to fill it...
A number of years ago, I was the "he" in the brief scene above. Writer's block had morphed into full-blown writer's constipation. Every project I was working on sat unfinished. The time I set aside for writing would come and go with nothing but blank pages, or maybe a few scribbled out sentence fragments. So I ventured to my favorite riverside spot, figuring it would inspire fresh work. It did not.
I arrived home dejected, and suddenly was hit with a bright idea. I would break the block by crafting a story ABOUT writer's block! Genius, right?
Umm, clearly that didn't work either, since I didn't get any farther than what you see above.
I was rummaging through some old scrap work and journal entries looking for prompts or ideas for a contest piece, and discovered the little snippet from years ago. I smiled, feeling good that I'm not suffering through the same struggle now.
Then I reflected a moment. The novel I set out to write many years ago still sits in a dusty binder, no closer to finished than it was eight years ago when I set it aside. The novel project that "replaced" it? Stormed along at a breakneck pace - then stalled. It hasn't been touched in close to a year. Frankly, the only long piece I've made progress on began its life as a 1000-1200 word short story for a contest. It quickly outgrew that, but I have no idea where it's going to end up - the story just keeps pouring out.
Meanwhile, things that I want to work on, like other contest pieces, are a battle.
Maybe I smiled too soon.
A number of years ago, I was the "he" in the brief scene above. Writer's block had morphed into full-blown writer's constipation. Every project I was working on sat unfinished. The time I set aside for writing would come and go with nothing but blank pages, or maybe a few scribbled out sentence fragments. So I ventured to my favorite riverside spot, figuring it would inspire fresh work. It did not.
I arrived home dejected, and suddenly was hit with a bright idea. I would break the block by crafting a story ABOUT writer's block! Genius, right?
Umm, clearly that didn't work either, since I didn't get any farther than what you see above.
I was rummaging through some old scrap work and journal entries looking for prompts or ideas for a contest piece, and discovered the little snippet from years ago. I smiled, feeling good that I'm not suffering through the same struggle now.
Then I reflected a moment. The novel I set out to write many years ago still sits in a dusty binder, no closer to finished than it was eight years ago when I set it aside. The novel project that "replaced" it? Stormed along at a breakneck pace - then stalled. It hasn't been touched in close to a year. Frankly, the only long piece I've made progress on began its life as a 1000-1200 word short story for a contest. It quickly outgrew that, but I have no idea where it's going to end up - the story just keeps pouring out.
Meanwhile, things that I want to work on, like other contest pieces, are a battle.
Maybe I smiled too soon.
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