I’ve read many a book on writing and most of them say, “Writers write. So write,” and many others say, “Remember to have fun,” and I’ve found that when I remember that sage advice, results seem to result.
“Cow?” said the gnome. “What cow?” said the moose. “That cow,” said the storyman. “Moo,” said the cow.
“Look at that big piece of driftwood,” she laughed. “It looks like a dead giant caterpillar washed ashore.” Grant Jenssen laughed, too, but then he took a second look. The wood was washed not quite white, more of a light tan, and the little stubs from broken branches could have been legs; the resemblance toContinue reading “Prologue to The Monarchs”
There, did you see it, just then? I napped like death for an hour and a half this afternoon, and you almost slipped out without my knowing, but you whispered my name to be sure, and I heard. Now, alone, I breathe full and deep and feel the life renewed from sleep, rested and recreatedContinue reading “on waking”
Winston looked both ways and behind him before he started to write. “I think the Marxists are about to topple the government. Either they will win the election, or they will take it forcefully afterward rather than concede defeat. The rioting is just the precursor, legitimizing their violence in the streets …” “Whatcha got there?”Continue reading “Chance encounter at a park bench”
He turned at the shout and eyed the new arrival, who stood in the dusty street brandishing a weapon. Onlookers scattered for cover as he assessed the scene, no discernible expression on his face. He sighed. “Violence is a last resort,” he said evenly to the newcomer. “I have no interest in hurting you. Now,Continue reading “The Newcomer: A brief morality play”
The wonder of this moment that is here and will never come again, overflowing with oh so much life the sunshine and the color and the silence (or the chitter-chat) of so much everything all around