As read at Fiction 440 on 4/28/2015 – the words to use were stiletto, lust, and taxidermy
“C’mon,” said Victor. “Ya gotta come with me! I can’t go without my wingman!”
Octavio sighed. For one thing, Victor never needed a wingman. He’d score regardless. But the bigger issue for Octavio was his own psyche. It’d only been three weeks since Cassie left him. He had no interest in standing around with a bunch of drunk people, pretending to be okay. Read more
I am a writer – for that I can be sure. Words, they flow easily from my brain to my fingers, clickity-clacking this keyboard until my thoughts become opaque and coherent.
However, what makes a writer a blogger? Must I post daily into this little box of blank, trying to come up with unique, funny, interesting, informative?
You know what I say to that?
Is that even a word? I don’t rightly care if it isn’t. The idea of writing a daily blog fills me with bleck. I find that some days, I’m ON. I have words – lots and lots of words. Ideas and concepts and theories flow through me like the in-and-out of a pint of Kellerbier Munich Dunkel Lager from the Territorial Brewing Company on a Saturday evening.
But other days… oh, those other days… work and life and family obligations and bills and whatdya mean it’s my turn to take out the trash? Didn’t I do it last week?
My point is, and I do have a point – if something blog-worthy hits my brain, I’ll write said something here. It’ll be profound or funny, you’ll giggle and if you’re not careful, you may learn something. But I won’t – WILL NOT – write just to put words on the page. I have a novel to complete, after all, and I want that to be my primary literary focus. When inspiration strikes, you’ll know.
In the mean time, it’s my turn to take out the trash. Bleck… perhaps. But it’s my trash, too, and at least the trash is not written her
Pacing up one aisle and down the next, I scanned the crowd laboriously for quite some time. Once I’d wandered through my whole section with no results, I opted instead to pick a location and hover. Perusing the fresh fruits and vegetables section, I feigned fascination in their selection of cucumbers, strawberries and broccoli. I’d pick up an item and do all sorts of freshness quality testing, or at least what I’d hoped would be construed as such. For any given item, I’d smell, thump or shake it, only to return it to, or in the general vicinity of, its original location. Though I did garner some peculiar glances while shaking broccoli near my ear and smelling sealed bags of salad, I think I managed to fool the majority of the shoppers. Read more
I had spent the last forty-five minutes staring out the passenger window at the constantly moving landscape, not really focusing on any of the sights as they flew by. Turning to look at Austin, I became a bit concerned at the droopiness of his eyelids. Fearing this as a possible harbinger of a bad situation, I uttered, “Are we there yet?” Read more
This scene was written as a stand-alone short story, but I wrote it with the intention of putting it in the book at around page 39. During one of the edits, I decided it didn’t really fit, so I removed it and added the “Slug Bug” scene, which is displayed here as Excerpt #2. Read more
These few pages were originally written to give insight and depth to Phil Savage, the guy who our heroes borrow the pickup truck from. But I came to realize I needed to get to the meat of the plot a bit sooner, so I removed it. But still, in my opinion, this is an interesting bit of text. Also, this incorporated one of my past career choices, and I’d always wanted to write about it. On top of all that, it has a rather vulgar joke that didn’t sit too well with my proof-reading staff. I like it, but I wrote it, so y’know. Read more
The Dirk Irtly bit, on page 195, originally included this joke. However, one of my proof readers didn’t get it, so I tried to expand on it. Then she thought it was too vulgar, so I removed the whole thing. But every time I read it I laugh, so I wanted to share it with you. Read more