"What's it like, being dead?" "...I don't know, I guess it's like being inside a book that nobody's reading." - From Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried. This quote bowled me over. Not just because it's a fresh look at death, but because it captures my feelings. While I'm writing I Trespass, I'm "inside a …
Tag: Fiction
Flash Fiction for Carrot Ranch
I'm trying to leave my novel alone for a few weeks so I can read it with "fresh" eyes and polish it. Again. This polishing will be the fourth draft on I Trespass. Since I'm not actively writing my novel, my schedule is different. Like: Who moved my cheese? Normally I pick up a thread …
Color: Fiction for Microcosms
From her usual spot between the front seats, the little girl gazed at the passing landscape, absently drawing shapes in the craggy skin on Father's neck. On either side of the road the broken bones of civilization lay in colorless mounds. She often wondered why the colors left, why the piles weren't bright like Lego …
Zeroflash Fiction: Chernobyl Romantics
On this journey to publishing my novel I often take little tangents, usually in the form of writing competitions. I love the immediacy of the feedback and the stretching prompts. Zeroflash's August competition garnered me an honorable mention from the talented Jan Kaneen. I can't tell you how uplifting it is to have a writer whose work I …
Patreonizing: Flash Fiction, Metafiction
[Patreon is a membership platform that enables artists to live off their craft. Or maybe it's a Go-Fund-Me for creatives. Anyone who lives with an artist understands the financial black hole spawned by art. Or, to put it plain: How is a small pepperoni pizza like a full-time writer? Neither can feed a family of four. …
The Shot: Fiction for Microcosms
Like all the outliers I've covered, this planet was named for some dead Earthian. Back then you could have a star named after yourself for less than the cost of a decent dinner. This man had a hundred stars named after him. Trump XV looked no different than all the others. When the infrastructure goes, …
Be a Flasher
Not that kind of flasher, naughty bird. A flash fiction writer. Why should I be a flash fiction writer? You ask. I'm glad you did. Flash fiction forces several wondrous talents upon you: Economy of language. Full-bodied plot in a tiny, weeny package. A stretch into new genres, styles, content.* Opportunity for you to turn …
The Gift: Fiction for Microcosms
Cal feared the new garbage truck: its dinosaur bellow of steel on steel as the automated arm plucked the blue plastic containers like weeds, flipped them upside down, and dumped the contents with an explosive crash. The engineering marvel rescued lower backs and killed jobs, but Cal wouldn't know anything about that, being seven. All …
Flash Fiction: The Writing on the Wall
Shem's last straw as maintenance man was the locker room. "Not touching that." "Shem, you don't get to choose what you clean around here. Either get going on that or... get going." His boss thumbed toward the exit sign. Shem got. No way was he going to scrub a floor-to-ceiling mural of excrement. A cashier …
My Alarm Clock Told Me
My alarm clock told me it was time to wake up. But it didn't stop there. It went on to remind me about yesterday. I hit snooze. My mirror told me I look rather haggard lately. Getting old and ugly and hadn't you better work on your personality? The mirror disagreed strongly with my alarm clock. …
KL Griffiths 