The first problem was I was nearly out of time. I was Harrison Ford, sans the tweed, and I ran towards my only option. Home. The obstacles were countless, so when I found an opening that increased my odds to… Read More ›
stream of conscious
Sometimes I’m Write
Somewhere between Paris and London, I reached the halfway point revising my book, Rolling for Coal. I say somewhere because I honestly had no idea where I was. At one point I told my wife that I was almost home,… Read More ›
Some Like it Hot
I rushed out of the office in the East Bay, changed into jeans in the parking lot between the two open doors to my incredibly hip rental car, and then finally pointed my compass southwest towards SFO. The bags under… Read More ›
Cutta to the Chase
He must of have been a problem solver at his day job. He stood in a coach’s stance, his Prada glasses pinched tight against a red nose pointed up at me. To avoid any doubt, that made him shorter than… Read More ›
What’d You Call Me?
What’d you call me? Though usually superfluous and rhetorical in nature, I must profess that I absolutely love this question – in fiction, and in life. Why? Because most often, when asked, we already know the answer. But for some… Read More ›
Meaning to Write
I’ve just become a better writer. I didn’t attend a writing conference, finish a book of prompts, or get a piece published. In fact, strictly speaking, I didn’t do anything. Life happened. As a result of this particular occasion, words,… Read More ›
Image That?
So I got to thinking: How much would I pay for a hard-drive that contained every single image captured by my own eyes? What would my autobiography, uncensored and limited only by the ability of my photoreceptors to convert light… Read More ›
Stream of Words
Stream of conscious. Streams are a conscious thought, now. I used to collect tadpoles with my brother. I used to pretend the lazy water turned into rapids and my tadpoles were saved from impending death-by-rock-and-water. Just maybe, I saved them…. Read More ›
Write On, Man
Those aren’t pillows! Prompt: Why do I write? (Writing Down the Bones, by Natalie Goldberg) Date: 18 October 2011 Location: 26B I write because I know it is going to take a lifetime of writing to explain the answer. I… Read More ›
