Category: Writing

  • Closing Out 2022

    This will be my last real time blog post for 2022. I have some posts in the can that I have scheduled for the next couple of days, but for all intents and purposes, I am done blogging for the year. Christmas is right around the corner and I am intending to spend time with my family, reading, and napping as much as my kid will allow.

    Looking back on this blog, I will clock 255 posts, with a word count well north of 101,200, which means I was writing on average close to 500 words a post. I find this stat rather amusing as when I started writing here, way back in 2017, my original goal was to only write 250 words per blog. In five years, I have doubled my word count. Quality might still be questionable, but quantity has increased.

    Looking back at this year of creative writing, I have to admit that I did not get published, nor did I earn any money from my creative endeavors, which had been two of my goals. Was I overly ambitious? Well, obviously. But what’s the point in playing the game if you don’t swing for the fences? Yet, I did write more in this year than I ever have. Not only with the blogs, but I kept up my pace of journaling daily, and working on my fiction. I think what I accomplished this year was creating the habit of writing. I gave myself weekends off, but I was at this computer every weekday, putting something down, trying to get better at expressing myself and ideas.

    Maybe I’m looking for a silver lining, and so what if I am. I’m looking back on 2022, and I’m feeling good about it, which is a feeling I haven’t felt in sometime. Since 2018, when my mother died, I feel like I have had this feeling of sadness wrapped around me. Not depression or mourning, even though those two have stopped by and hung out with me often in the past several years, but a sadness that makes it difficult to get excited about anything. I don’t feel sad about 2022.

    And I’m looking forward to 2023. And that is important, and it means something.

    So, thanks for being a part of this, all 4 to 9 of you, who regularly stop by. But, before I go, I wanted to pass on;

    Watch ANDOR!

    Peach Pit is a new favorite band of mine.

    Call your mom, she misses you.

    See you next year.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Adjunct Professor Strike, Christmas Trees, and What’s the Deal?

    (I say what I say…)

    There is a brewing movement underway being led by adjunct faculty and students. Hell Gate ran this story yesterday about students at the New School, here in New York City, joining the faculty strike, which has been going on for 23 days. If you didn’t know, University of California academic workers, have also been on strike. For far too long, adjunct professors, basically part-time teaching staff, and academic workers, who are teaching assistants, tutors, graduate student researchers and postdoctoral scholars, have been doing more and more of the actually teaching at universities. Across the country, full-time and tenured positions at universities have been shrinking, while at the same time administrative positions have been growing. I don’t think anyone will find it surprising that administrator salaries have been growing, while faculty pay has remained flat for years. A reckoning is coming. For the past forty years, American universities have become little corporations – making money and growing endowments comes first, and education is second. And to accomplish that, administrators have to keep their labor costs low. It has gone on for too long, and now faculties are pushing back. I see strikes like these growing and continuing in the coming years.

    Tomorrow, our Christmas Tree arrives. We ordered one, it’s fake, which was designed to fit specifically in small apartments. The base diameter is like 23” and it’s 6’ tall, so it’s a think pole of a tree. I can admit that that since we put up decorates after Thanksgiving, it really hasn’t felt like Christmas in the apartment, and that’s not really surprising. The Tree does tie the whole thing together.

    So, what’s the deal with all the views on my post: Short Story Review: “The Face in the Mirror” by Mohsin Hamid? When I originally posted it, I received 11 views which, for my humble little blog, was rather respectable. In the last two weeks, the same post has received 42 views, which is an outlier for me. So, what’s going on? If people are enjoying what I wrote, then that’s cool, but being that this blog is, well, little, then I find it odd when people notice it. Or is this just a bunch of bots screwing with me?

    (INSERT JOKE ABOUT LIKING THIS BLOG.)

  • My New Favorite Lit Journals

    I alluded to this yesterday in my short story review, which is that I have found myself reading more flash fiction and short-short stories. The sources of this material has been coming from, primarily, online lit journals, which I have been spending more of my time looking for. What I am enjoying from these publications, and this applies to most but not all, is that they are showcasing writers that are playing and experimenting with the short story form.

    I know there are many quality online publications out there, but these four I have found very intriguing and inspiring of late.

    The Drift – This is probably the most traditional of all the publications, and also not exclusively online either, as they also print their editions. I won’t lie, I’d like to work for this group. Their short story and poetry selection is great. They showcase different viewpoints and styles, and aren’t afraid to try new things. Their Mentions section is of particular note.

    Taco Bell Quarterly – When I first discovered them, I wasn’t sure if they were a joke or not. Their posts on Twitter are highly anti-publishing establishment, to the point of being militant, but still retaining a sense of humor about it all.  Supposedly, the stories they publish must have a connection to Taco Bell, which may or may be true. The point is that they publish what they like, and don’t care what anyone thinks.

    Rejection Letters – According to their own “About” page, they started out publishing fake rejection letters. What they are now is a place for short fiction and poetry that can veer into the absurd. I find that the pieces they publish to be honest, but also they can be rather funny. I subscribe to them, which gets me a daily email with a new story or poem.

    Memoir Mixtapes – This is just a good idea for a journal – it’s all essays about people and the songs they find important, memorable, or fascinating. I love finding out about new music, and I really enjoy hearing articulate people describe why songs are important to them. Not only do they select good writers, but the added bonus is going out and finding these songs that were just described to you.

    I know there are a ton of other great publications out there. If you know of any, leave their names in comments so we can all share with each other.

  • Short Story Review: “In the Garden” by Elliot Harper

    (The flash fiction story, “In the Garden” by Elliot Harper appeared in The Molotov Cocktail.)

    (Yes, I would say that this story will be spoiled.)

    I like flash fiction, and, I do take some responsibility for this, but most of the flash fiction I encounter is rather serious. Coming across a piece that is humous, and one that also delivers a punch, is like finding a tiny gem. “In the Garden” by Elliot Harper is that sort of flash fiction. I mean, it is about a foul-mouthed gnome who lives in a garden, and has a rather unconventional philosophical conversation over tea with the narrator.

    The story exists in a dream the narrator is having, and a bookend structure is used here; the story fades in from darkness to light, and then ends by going from light to darkness. Between those fades, we are in the narrators garden, but it is never clear if the garden exists only in this dream, or is the garden from the narrator’s real life and is being dreamt about. We can assume that the garden is from real life, as the narrator claims ownership of it, knows the gnome because the guy is referred to being in his usual place, and the narrator says he has worked hard on the garden – but is this setting from the narrator’s real life? I say this because the gnome says to the narrator that everything one sees is just the brain’s interpretation. Do we even see the same things? Can two people interpret reality the same way?

    And then I started to think that this story might actually be a metaphor about death, and how our existence is only momentary compared to the totality of the Universe. The gnome has a mini-milky Way galaxy under his red hat, and then the narrator mentions how it will be a shame to have to leave the garden soon. This lead me to start wondering about the bookend structure again; the story ends with a fade to black, and not the narrator waking up. Such as, the story comes into existence, and then goes out. Even the last line, referring to the fade out as “existence” in a “half-forgotten dream.”

    Did I mention that the story is funny? It is, by the way.

    It’s refreshing to read a piece that makes you think. It’s impressive to do it in such a compact form.

    (Hey! Thanks for taking the time to visit, and if you enjoyed the ride, please take a moment to give a like, leave a comment, share the post, or start following my blog.)

  • Short Story Review: “Big Phipps Climbs the High Dive” by Brendan Gillen

    (The short story “Big Phipps Climbs the High Dive” by Brendan Gillen appeared in Volume 5 of Taco Bell Quarterly.)

    (Things will be spoiled!)

    I like flash fiction. It’s a literary form that I think correctly reflects the time we live in; cut the bullshit and get to the point. And it also feels like it’s a big middle finger to those writing professors that used the cliched response to their students that “less is more” but then would turn around and complain that their short story didn’t take enough time to develop theme, character, setting…

    Where stream of consciousness tried to capture the feeling of how thoughts and emotions roll around in one’s mind, flash fiction is an example of a thought, emotion, or memory that explodes to life in your mind, then fades away. “Big Phipps Climbs the High Dive” by Brendan Gillen is a sharp piece of flash fiction that seems to fit that definition.

    The piece is a memory from high school, and not a particularly fond one, but I wager that most people who write fiction don’t have good memories from high school. It’s about Phipps, a larger kid who is about to win a belly flop contest. The narrator unfortunately gave Phipps an awful nickname “Beans” which he regrets, and even tries to get other students to stop using, but the cats out of the bag. There is a sense that the narrator regrets many things when it comes to Phipps, but the narrator never gives us what Phipps full, real name is. It’s as if Phipps never became real to the narrator, even though we are given insights to who Phipps is. He is a boy forced to play football because of his size. He likes playing Warcraft, which the narrator has done with him at Phipps’ home, but the narrator won’t let himself becomes friends with him. An example of peer pressure on the narrator is given, and the feeling of shame just oozes off of the story. And after Phipps has won the contest, the narrator tries to talk to Phipps, but the narrator admits what he wants is for the charade of their “friendship” to continue. Phipps response is a perfect button for this piece, as Phipps is aware of the type of person the narrator really is, and is done with playing along.

    (And we are at the part of the blog post where I ask if you liked it. Then I ask you to please like, share, comment, or follow this blog. You know…)