Conversations My Craft

I Smell Like Daffodils

A Conversation “I suppose you’re happy now.” “You do smell better.” “And the flea circus washed away, gone down the drain, to never be seen again.” “A bit dramatic.” “I spent days training them to flip mid-air. Charlie could land on his nose.” “Never saw his performance. The stench overpowered me.” “Now I smell like daffodils.” “With a tinge of honey.” “I don’t like it.” [bctt tweet=”Now I smell like daffodils.”] “You know…” “What?” “No,…

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Inspiration

Finding the Spark

Inspiration comes like a night muse: eager to reveal secrets and yet obscure. A writer who relies on the muse often finds themselves waiting for inspiration all the while longing for a revelation to top the last one. Working writers know how recalcitrant the muse can be and find other ways to supplement the spark. Like the thirsty traveler admonished to prime the pump before taking a drink of water, a story teller must put…

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Conversations My Craft

Save a Tree, You Know

A Conversation “WouldyouliketobuyamagazinesubscriptionsoIcangoto football camp? “Slow down. What are you doing?” “Selling magazines to go to camp.” “What camp?” “Football camp. I can go to football camp and get this cool radio if I sell enough subscriptions.” “I played football as a kid. We would just play in the mud.” “I don’t like mud.” [bctt tweet=”I don’t like mud.”] “Mud makes football. You have to become one with the field.” “We have a lot of…

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My Craft Very Short Stories

The Double Chocolate Bar

He brought out the candy and tore the top edge exposing the chocolate. She longed for it. He snapped off the end and brought it to his mouth. He felt eyes on him and looked directly at the girl. She sat across from him on the upper deck. She smiled, and turned away. [bctt tweet=”Miss, can I give your daughter some of my chocolate?”] He moved the chocolate with his tongue and let the richness…

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Author Readings My Craft

Author Reading: A Diamond in Her Eye

“You’ll never get me to tell you where the jewels are,” the child said. She leaned back and smirked. So starts my short story A Diamond in Her Eye about a precocious little girl who also happens to be a jewel thief. How, you might ask? She is a shape-shifter. The story came about after one of those police procedurals on television where the detectives lean on the accused. I thought the twist of having…

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Very Short Stories

The Sweet Smell of Rotting Flesh

Hot breath touched her neck and she sidestepped left running hard until the sweet smell of rotting flesh faded. She landed in a hole and pulled leaves over her. She waited. The sweet smell drifted again to her nose. She stopped breathing and listened. Warm drool fell on her head. She drew into the hole and stifled a scream. Now the sweet smell was gone. She sat listening. No sounds. She waited still before peeking…

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My Craft Serialized Stories

Sheep May Safely Graze – Part Two

From his knapsack, Xabier retrieved a crust of sourdough bread and a jar of jelly made from some red berries that reminded him of pomegranate seeds. The jelly reminded him of the taste of Earth apples. He thought about his mother making jelly. Long dead, he presumed. He didn’t understand the reason why, but when he signed up for this job he was told time took on a different meaning here. Although he aged barely…

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Conversations My Craft

Plan for World Domination

A Conversation “That’s interesting.” “What is?” “This video on stem cells.” “How so?” “It says we can convert fat cells into stem cells and rebuild our bodies.” “Figures.” “You sound like you already knew this.” “No. But it all makes sense now.” [bctt tweet=”The plan for world domination. It all started in the 50s with Americans eating too much.”] “How so?” “The plan for world domination. It all started in the 50s with Americans eating…

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My Craft Serialized Stories

Sheep May Safely Graze – Part One

Tin, ting, tin, tang rang the bells of Cantata Nº 208. The boy rubbed sleep from his eyes and covered them to block the dancing sunlight streaming through a slit. He slipped on boots, a filter, and gloves.  The red sun inched across the sky and it would be half a Earth-month before nightfall. Without the chimes, he might have missed feeding time. Small frame, calloused hands, a full head of sandy-brown hair, he looked…

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