• Writing can be competitive. Case in point, when there’s a trending hashtag writing game on Twitter, and you participate – a lot – then you refresh and refresh, hoping that you get a like, a comment, a retweet. And it’s fewer than 240 characters. How many pages could you have written whilst waiting for someone to see your random brain fart?

  • A songbird stood on my windowsill. It had a broken wing, and yet it chirped. It sang with as much vigour and force of will as if it were whole. I wanted to pick it up, to possess something so fundamentally strong. I left it for the cats.

  • The particle was new, untested, brilliant, beautiful, fragile, unstable. It was that last part that worried me. Nothing that we’d seen in the lab had prepared us to use the serum to test the particle’s usage. It would blow up, or save the world, nobody knew which.

  • Creepy_Snowman commented on the post, silverware 7 months ago

    I have a single mismatched butter knife left over from a party I held two years ago that required me to rent plates, chairs, forks, and everything else but, when the time came to return everything, a gentleman helped me unload my car, ticked off the entire order on his clipboard and sent me on my way — one knife richer.

  • Creepy_Snowman commented on the post, missed 7 months, 1 week ago

    I missed my opportunity. I missed it while I was on Twitter. Missed it again when I was playing games on my cell phone. Missed it when I went back on Twitter. Couldn’t get a moment free when I scrolled through Facebook once for old times sake. Missed the knock of opportunity when I was too busy hiding from my own ideas and the work it would take…[Read more]

  • Creepy_Snowman commented on the post, flex 7 months, 2 weeks ago

    I’ve heard the word “flex” way more often in recent months, but only just came to understand that it means more than the traditional definition of stretching one’s muscles. I’ve seen it a lot on YouTube. That’s where current culture is born, right?

  • I had always wanted to direct a movie. Where should I have started? I have a phone – this smartphone in my pocket. I wondered how I could get going – editing was going to be hard, but as long as I knew people willing to injure themselves on skateboards, everything was going to be okay.

  • A gesture is just that – an acknowledgement in the direction of someone or something that the person making the effort wants to show that they care about – sort of. If they gesture towards any kind of appeasement or real change, then it ceases to be a gesture and starts to be meaningful – this is terribly shitty.

  • The gate for departures was, naturally, nowhere near the entrance from the parking structure. I know that we were supposed to have arrived two hours early to avoid exactly this panic, but now it’s half an hour until our flight leaves, the dog is finally with the kennel, my kids have stopped crying, and our car is in long term parking – give me a…[Read more]

  • I never wanted the spotlight. First of all, it’s too hot. Standing there, in the dark, except for what feels like all the heat and light in the world focused on your face. You become certain that everyone can see each individual drop of sweat on your brow. You can, can’t you?

  • The conflict on the TV was just the beginning. Daily stress of seeing the world at war, combined with the internet battlefield of left versus right tearing each other apart was too much for me. I pulled away from everyone. Cut everyone and everything off. Unplugged. Now I’m lonely and unhappy still.

  • Strands of hair like spider silk on my pillow. It’s all I have left of her. I want to gather them all up and weave a ring of memory that I can wear forever. At the same time, I want to burn them all, and let the astringent smell smoke out the pain of remembrance.

  • The sea of lighters is inspiring. Do all these people smoke? Also, what a throwback this is. Don’t most people hold up their smartphones now? The flickering yellow flames become earthbound stars, illuminating faces, swaying in time to the power ballad onstage. It isn’t until the screaming starts that I understand why everyone has brought fire with them.

  • I did circles in the mall, passing handbags, donuts, electronics, and makeup with monotonous regularity. The guy was supposed to have been here fifteen minutes ago. I felt my shopaholic tendencies willing the money to leap from my pocket into a dozen different places, but then what would I have left to spend on weed?

  • “I’m a little concerned by what I see here.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “This … all of it.”
    “You’re overreacting.”
    “That’s NOT every tool I own covered in red paint?”
    “Okay, it’s bad when you say it like that.”
    “Stop. You’re lapsing into sitcom-speech again. This is serious.”

  • Creepy_Snowman commented on the post, prize 1 year, 7 months ago

    The prize was mine. I had purchased the raffle ticket partly on a whim, and partly out of a sense of obligation to my niece. There was really no thought that I might actually win. So now I’ve got a six foot plush panda to deal with – wonder if they’ll give me the cash value?

  • Creepy_Snowman commented on the post, vet 1 year, 7 months ago

    I took my dog to the vet. She’d been worrying at something in her mouth all day. Poor thing sat on her little rug by the couch and kept licking her lips and swallowing. I couldn’t see anything, so here we were. Turning on her penlight, the vet took a good look while I held the old girl steady. There was something stuck in her teeth, alright … a finger.

  • I took the shotgun from the back of the car. From there, I went to the edge of the road, emptied the shells, and threw the gun into the woods. A few minutes later, I got the gun back. My hatred of violence is at war with my need to feel safe.

  • Reading nonfiction is a good way to learn how to write regular fiction. It can give you understanding of motive, ways to better describe your characters to make them sound more natural, or ways of creating exposition that don’t sound like info dumps. Also – dictionaries count as nonfiction (don’t they?) Use them.

  • When asked to write about one’s influences, where do you begin? Music, movies, books? Other people? Parents? Booze? Drugs? Errant bits of fluff that look like spaceships blowing across the tile floor as you’re taking a shit?

    That last one probably counts for my space novel – it’s pretty crappy.