Here’s an excerpt from my short story “Walt’s Yellow Shirt.” Thanks to the good folks at Full of Crow for publishing it a few years back. So if you like what you’ve read, click on over to Full of Crow and read some more.
Walt was going to ask his boss for a raise, so when his shift at the balloon warehouse ended he went to Sears and tried on five or six button-down shirts. The weight he had put on complicated his effort; he was stuck in no-man’s land, somewhere between large and extra-large. Finally, with half-hearted assistance from the teenage sales clerk, he settled on a solid, banana yellow short-sleeve shirt with two pockets, one for his pen and the other for his order forms.
Here’s an excerpt from my recent short story “The Flaming Menorah.” Thanks to the good folks at Across the Margin for publishing it. So if you like what you’ve read, click on over to Across the Margin and read some more.
…My mother took a long pull on her cigarette, tilted her head back, closed her eyes, exhaled, looked down at the hem on her skirt and put her long bony fingers through her frizzy black hair.
“Life’s complicated, Timmy, and sometimes you make decisions, no matter if they’re wrong or harmful, in order to find some peace of mind. To remind yourself that you’re still alive.”
Every June 16th, Dubliners and people around the world celebrate James Joyce’s modernist novel Ulysses.
Bloomsday is a term derived from the novel’s protagonist, Leopold Bloom, whose mundane wanderings and ordinary encounters in Dublin on June 16, 1904 parallel those of Ulysses (Odysseus) in The Odyssey.
The date was significant for Joyce–it was his first meeting with his wife-to-be, Nora Barnacle. (more…)
Today, The Great Gatsby turns 90. Thank you Mr. Fitzgerald for writing a book that turned me into a reader. I paid tribute to Gatsby, along with a plethora of other works that have influenced me, by referencing it in my debut novel There Is No End to This Slope.
Teeny Duncan is an avid reader. My novel’s protagonist, John Lenza, who claims to be a writer, is not a dedicated reader. How can somebody who doesn’t read be a writer? It’s implausible, to say the least. Nevertheless, John fancies himself a writer, but it is Teeny who eventually writes the play that John has been thinking about writing.
John is impressed with Teeny’s devotion to great literature. Here is their initial meeting:
Writers are accustomed to being alone, marinating in their own thoughts, swirling in their demented head. Occasionally, these thoughts turn ugly.
Writers put themselves out there. Live a life of rejection. Work for little or no money. And when the manuscript is completed, they are lucky to find somebody who’ll publish it. If it is published, few people will ever read it, and then it’s back to square one, like Sisyphus, plugging away at a project that most likely will offer little in terms of financial reward and vindication.
Keep your thoughts positive! That’s the trick!