Archive for the ‘writting’ Category

flash fiction

7 February, 2020

It must have been luck for him to walk in her, late for the course. There was only one seat left, next to a beautiful girl. Woman. He was in college now, no more girls, women. He laughed to himself, he didn’t want a girlfriend, he wanted a womanfriend.

He smiled at her as he sat down, she grinned back. So far so good. What next?

Her hair was black, with a streak of neon green above her left ear, pulled back in a pony tail. She had many small earrings.

He didn’t sign up for this class, what was the use of basketweaving? Sure it was a great technology a thousand years ago, but now? About as useful as rolling slabs with logs to build a pyramid. And artists wouldn’t be doing that, to much like real work.

However, a really pretty girl. Woman. And another benefit of an art class, very little competition. Probably the other guys in here were gay. The one over there, scrawny, crossing his legs, colorful pants, he surely was gay.

The teacher, no, the professor, he was in college now, said to get the reeds. She turned to him and said, “I’m Becca, I’ll get the supplies. You can guard our base.” Beautiful voice, and joking about guarding, and she even said “our”. He smiled when she returned, and told her he drove off the bandits. “Good,” she replied and laid down the reeds. They rattled as she divided them up.

A woman returned to her stuff, sat, and turned back to Becca.
“Sorry I kept you out late last night, Becca.”

“Your band sucks,” Becca said.

“But they pay me,” she replied. “Anyways, it’s fun to watch old people dance. It’s inspiring.”

“But you’re good, get your own band,” Becca said.

“My music won’t pay the bills.”

The instructor started roll call, “Becca, why are you in here?”

“I need three credits to graduate.”

“But you already took intermediate and advanced.”

“Then this will be an easy three credits.”

“I need a TA”

“I can do that.”

“And you can TA me,” Becca’s musician friend said.

His dream girl turned to him, and asked, “would you mind switching spots with my friend?”


Thanxies to E A Deverall for flash fiction story prompts:

flash fiction

17 January, 2020

“Hey boss,” the old man said, entering the library, “you the know the infuriating thing about being immortal and heavenly?”

“What is it, Gabe.”

“Please, don’t call me that,” the old man replied.

“Why not? I thought you wanted us to be familiar.”

“Ever since that rock star OD’ed on model glue, I would rather not use the informal version of the name you gave me.” The old man took a breath, “but back to my question, which you of course know the answer to.”

“You still,” the young female boss started, and the both finished, “make mistakes.”

“Of course I know,” she said, “I don’t need to remind you of the many times I’ve been human.”

“Boss,” Gabe said, “you were perfect.”

“Oh Gabriel, I was sinless, not perfect. I faced temptation, but did not sin. Do you know how difficult it is to make a square door, using iron-age tools, and not take my name in vain.”

“Well,” Gabriel said,” here’s the thing. I forgot the bookmark. You gotta send me back.”

Now, instead of a young female boss was, Gabriel was looking at a small grey field mouse, one ear chewed off from a spat with Lucifer. The mouse looked at the three by five card with scribbles on it, sniffed it, and looked back at Gabriel, and said, “she won’t miss it.”

“You’re wrong, boss…well, you’re lying to me. Why would you lie to me?”

“Would you prefer it if I told you that that piece of paper, from page 173 of a book she hasn’t thought about for years, is not actually important.”  Now instead of a mouse, Gabriel was talking with a red serpent, no bigger than a pencil.

“Quit changing the topic by changing your form. You know I hate it when you take that shape.”

The serpent coiled and turned into old man with shaggy red beard, tan skin and bald head. “Gabriel, you’re an angel. You can access any knowledge leading up to now, the present, for the time line you are in. But every choice creates a different time line, and a different you.”

“There are some where I didn’t forget the bookmark?”

“An infinite amount. I see them all. And there where she used a dull pencil versus a sharp pencil. The very act of sharpening her pencil leads her to different thoughts, which lead to different actions, which lead to different consequences.”

Gabriel thought for a moment, and asked, “well, if you’ve seen it all, every variation of every possibility,… how does it all end.”

Instead of an old man, now there was a small, but pudgy baby. “Happy,” the baby laughed.


Thanxies to E A Deverall for flash fiction story prompts:


2012 resolutions

5 January, 2012

I am proud of BitterKat and her running, and how she’s building upon last year’s victories for more running fun in 2012.I’m proud of SnarkyKat and her new Master’s degree. I’m proud of Laurgs and setting up an studio for The Arts.

Always afraid to say them out loud…but…here’s goes.

Goals for the Year 2012

  • Write novel, “The Draft”. There will be no orcs in this, though it will be about a high-school, so probably just as much profanity as an orc based story. I will write first draft, and revise it, then send it off to fools that volunteer…I mean friends that don’t know any better, to see what they have to say.
  • Write “A Short History of Agriculture before Columbus”, a non-fiction. Because, I like biting off more than I can chew. I’ve thought about what needs to be done just to do the research, I figure I need to read about 50 books, a couple hundred articles/chapters, dozens of interviews, scores of videos, a couple of field trips… This project is impossible, and will be horribly done. But, in the spirit NaNoWriMo…Go. Write. WIN!
  • Read 28 books, which would be two more than 2011.
  • Blog three times a week for my ultra-cool readers.
  • Watch a game of every NBA team.
  • Enroll in school.

Goals for January – because sometimes, goals need to be bite sized

  • write 300 words per day

Goals for the week – or, there are always little tiny baby steps to take

  • Less than 70 minutes of TV/Facebook/web-surfing a day. Srsly, how pathetic is that?
  • Go to bed, on average, before 11:30pm
  • pushups – five days, for a total of 14
  • guitar – five days, for a total of 40 minutes

Wow, those goals for the week are pretty embarrassing, huh? Well, step aside pride, and off to something slightly better, yes?

The Shining

24 October, 2011

Five stars, meaning, I recommend everybody read The Shining by Mr Stephen King.

I was so, very, happy to have an well written book to read. I hate to admit, that many times I have thought the same things that the scary monster/father/husband thought. I guess that’s the truth of horror-fiction, there are monsters in all of us.

Parts I liked:

The writer-character thinking about the patron-artist relationship “We’ll always be friends, and the dog collar I have on you will always be ignored by mutual consent, and I’ll take good and benevolent care of you. All I ask in return is your soul. Small item….Remember my talent friend, there are Michelangelos begging everywhere in the streets of Rome...” Yup, as my portrait of me-artist-as-a-youngster, I thought similar things, and have seen others say art is about freedom, ignoring the fact that art is about communication.

The child-character thinking about adults: “But grownups were always in a turmoil, every possible action muddied over by thoughts of consequences, by self-doubt, by selfimage, by feelings of love and responsibility. Every possible choice seemed to have drawbacks, and sometimes he didn’t understand why the drawbacks were drawbacks.”  I love how King writes from child’s point of view, giving credit to what things kids can figure out, giving them credit for being smarter than we normally believe, and yet, admitting confusion and misunderstanding.

Nice visual: “He let one finger play over the words for a moment, the pad of his index finger denting against the cogs, running smoothly over the wheels.”

A well crafted story.

Thank you Mr King for writing it.

paperback writer

30 January, 2011

Let me state, for the record, “Paperback Writer” is the best song by the Beatles. Opens with Beatles a capella, killer riff, Motown-esque background vocals, awesome Paul McCartney bass fills. And, I think the song put the idea in my head of being a writer when I was a young boy. And every since, I’ve always wanted to be a writer.

Well…I declare that  I am a writer. Not a good one, not an original one, heck, probably not even competent. But, I’ll say it, “I am a writer”. I would like to thank the Filthy Critic, my favorite movie critic, for introducing me to NaNoWriMo, that helps a lot. Just getting pixels on the screen, or ink on paper.

And I did…85 consecutive days, Oct 31st, 2010 – January 23rd, 2011. I wrote every day. Granted, some days were very, very minimal. (Like the eight words on January 1st.) But during that time, it  averaged more than 900 words per day, blogged every day of November, and did NaNoWriMo in 29 days.  I know how to put words on paper. Now, I gotta learn how to put the right words in the right places*.

And, of course, all good things must come to an end. I was looking at “tips for writers” on, and lost track of time, and thus didn’t blog on January 24th. Which kinda bummed me out, and so I took some more days off. But, I’m back on the writer wagon, and my new streak is now, two days.

The other day, I was looking back at some old fiction stuff I had written. And there  were a few moments that I was happy with what I had written. And I guess that’s the reward, and that’s the reason I write, for me. My stories for me. And this blog so that I can look back and remember the wonderful stories of my babies growing up.

* J.S. Bach, “Music is easy, all you have to do is play the right note, at the right time.”


2 January, 2011

So…after yesterday’s thrilling post… I still qualify for NaBloPoMo-January2011, the topic was deemed “Friends”.


So let me begin, with story from my childhood…when I was a youngster, growing up in Missouri, we lived on a large piece of land. Not sure why, it could have been a farm, but my father was a machinist. It was a bit of a walk to our closest neighbors, we had a drive way that was at least a hundred yards long. There was a pond, half way up the drive, between the house and the dirt road. Heck, we even had a “Party-line” for phone service. Occasionally my parents friends would visit, and bring their kids.

One time, the kids were walking around the pond, looking for snakes or frogs, or, as a vivid memory I have, a snake eating a frog. My dog, was swimming in the pond, as dogs do, because it is so much easier to get the humans to smell like dog if the dogs shake themselves dry. One of the kids started throwing rocks into the pond. I didn’t want my best friend (the dog) hurt so I yelled at the kid to stop. He stopped throwing into the pond, and threw one at me. He was a good shot, because it hit me right on the forehead. I remember sobbing, walking up the drive, drops of blood dripping through my fingers, speckling rocks in the gravel. I remember being held by a parent, crying, wearing my favorite blue jean jacket (and not a cool jeans jacker, a very off style one…well…it was the 70s), and the father of the boy saying that I was a brave little Indian, which did cheer me up.


GBAtT Year in Review 2010

31 December, 2010

I actually was able to read 24 books in 2010.

I didn’t write 100,000 words, without counting NaNoWriMo. But I did write about 82 thousand words, plus successfully completed NaNoWriMo.

I averaged three blog entries a week. (Actually 3.1 per week, averaging 187 words per entry.)

I am happy to say, that I have written, either blog entry or one of my silly novels, every single day since Oct 31st! TheGoogle says it takes somewhere between 21 and 66 days to form a new habit. So I think this makes me a writer, although, slow since I’m averaging only 300 words per day. I think in 2011 I’ll start working on quality, much to your delight, Sportsfans!

And…the most exciting new thing…remember, exciting also means scary…I began teaching Sunday school.

NaNoWriMo 2010

29 November, 2010

I did it.A day before the deadline I finished too. I even had three days of zero words.

Eh, so what. Maybe I’ve out grown this game, and maybe it’s time to move on. I have been tracking progress this past weekend, and when I was making good time, I average 29 words per minute. So, doing the math, NaNoWriMo is only about 29 hours of writing, if I can stay focused. Maybe that’s the challenging part. Staying foc… hey…did you just see that? A shiny thing. I wonder …


NaNoWriMo 2010

1 November, 2010

Yup, I’m doing NaNoWriMo again. It’s a strange sort of fun for me.

I finally decided around 10pm tonight which idea I was gonna go with. And then for the next few minutes, jotted a short outline as chapter headings, then typed out a quick 800 words.

I didn’t get a chance to type on bus, because I drove in. I made a gentleman’s bet with a professor if I could make it in by 8am.


In regards to getting older

13 October, 2010

I love T.S. Eliot.  I’ve heard it said that sometimes TS can be a bit of a bummer. I love Part Five, of “East Coker” and find it very optimistic, in a roundabout sort of way.

So here I am, in the middle way, having had twenty years—
Twenty years largely wasted, the years of l’entre deux guerres
Trying to use words, and every attempt
Is a wholly new start, and a different kind of failure
Because one has only learnt to get the better of words
For the thing one no longer has to say, or the way in which
One is no longer disposed to say it. And so each venture
Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate
With shabby equipment always deteriorating
In the general mess of imprecision of feeling,
Undisciplined squads of emotion. And what there is to conquer
By strength and submission, has already been discovered
Once or twice, or several times, by men whom one cannot hope
To emulate—but there is no competition—
There is only the fight to recover what has been lost
And found and lost again and again: and now, under conditions
That seem unpropitious. But perhaps neither gain nor loss.
For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.

I love it. Here we have one of the best poets ever, and he feels like an incompetent hack at his craft. But that’s not the point in art, sport, life, relationship with God. “For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.”

For me more than twenty years have passed since I became an adult. And even though my body and mind are not as strong or flexible, and I certainly don’t feel any wiser, I just need to keep trying.