Time for the Trifextra weekend challenge: Write a story entitled ‘Lost’ in exactly 33 words. The word ‘lost’ can only appear in the title, not your 33 words. And away we go! (more…)
Posts Tagged ‘writing’
Trifextra – “lost”
Posted: March 16, 2012 in FictionTags: challenge, fantasy, fiction, good lovin' gone bad, life, lost, love, reality, relationships, Trifextra, writing
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Trifextra – “mail call”
Posted: March 9, 2012 in FictionTags: 33 words, challenge, fiction, publishing, rejection, Trifextra, writing
Trifextra – Week Seven Challenge: Give a story or snippet of a story which includes, in exactly 33 words, a justified exclamation point. Make us believe that your exclamation point simply needs to be in your story. (more…)
what to do, what to do?
Posted: February 27, 2012 in UncategorizedTags: art, beauty, blogging, inspiration, life, random, realization, writing
You have a germ of an idea, a germlet really, and start writing. Suddenly it’s as if the all the powers of the universe converged on you and you alone. Inspiration is swift and relentless. You begin to type furiously. Words come from you like 1,000 arrows from 1,000 bows. Oh, you can feel (more…)
Trifextra – “his mask should have tipped me off”
Posted: February 26, 2012 in FictionTags: Trifextra, writing, writing challenges
I stumbled across this quickie writing challenge on Mr. Hotspur’s Wondrous World of Imagination and figured I’d give it a try. The challenge originated on trifecta’s blog which, apparently, is chock full of these things. Here’s the assignment. (more…)
common threads #1: smiling
Posted: January 24, 2012 in Observations and CommentaryTags: behavior, Common Threads, life, random, smile, writing
Over on Flickr I belong to a group called The Common Threads Project. The project identified 78 universal human behaviors and traits which “bridge the divides of gender, race, creed, culture and class.” Group members are encouraged to post photographs illustrating these traits and tagging them as appropriate. It’s a nifty idea which embodies our commonalities in an effective and occasionally powerful way.
That being said I am not here to post photos, at least not under that oversized umbrella. This isn’t about photography. I’ll leave that to the Flickr group. Instead (more…)
The bright sunshine filled the summer sky like a blessing. Carl wished he brought his Donald Duck sunglasses, but it was too late now. His father handed the tickets to a man in a blue-striped shirt. The man roughly ripped them in two and handed one half back to his father. “I’ll hold these for safekeeping,” he said evenly and took Carl’s hand in his.
They walked to an escalator, the tallest escalator Carl had even seen. As they began (more…)
no title comes to mind
Posted: January 14, 2012 in TrasklandTags: drought, dry, empty, life, random, writing
Winter’s drought is here. Inspiration’s flood is suppressed behind water tight doors. My imagination is cracked and dry. I am a panting dog, a desert wanderer in search of an oasis. Everything has been stripped, locked down and sealed. Nothing gets in and therefore nothing comes out.
Like an escaped POW I make my way through no man’s land, explosions (more…)
Autobiography of Adam Carlin – Chapter 1: Ground Rules
Posted: December 13, 2011 in FictionTags: adam carlin, chapter 1, experiment, fiction, novel, writing
I don’t know what you’ve heard about the circumstances surrounding my birth, but if it’s anything like what I’ve heard, we need to talk. Well, I’ll talk and you listen. Actually, I’ll write, you read. Most of what has been published, presented and preached as the ‘gospel’ truth regarding my life is, well, let’s just say it ain’t something those four dudes in the New Testament might consider worthy of their gospels. Then again, who really knows if the stories they wrote about the cuspy days of B.C.E./A.D. are anywhere near the truth? Who even knows if (more…)
passing smith’s
Posted: November 29, 2011 in FictionTags: fiction, flash fiction, New York, night, Photography, Smith's, writing
At 1:15 a.m. the streets all look the same. She took the glass offered by…what was his name? Ken? Carl? It didn’t really matter. All that mattered was she was drinking a Cosmo while riding in a limo through Manhattan on her 21st birthday. The world outside passed like disjointed scenes from a movie.
She felt bad ditching her friends at the club, but (more…)
Trask Avenue 