Author. Writer. Editor. Fool.
I penned a flash fiction piece last year called “Storms,” a brief war story about a man’s experience on the front lines of World War I. The story is now available at Boston Literary Magazine. Surf over here and give it a read. It’s short. Won’t take you but a few minutes to read. My thanks to editor Robin Stratton, who forced me to take a hard look at the story and pare it back to its most essential elements.
It’s funny that I just recently blogged about rejection letters, because over the weekend I got the opposite of a rejection when Boston Literary Magazine accepted a story I wrote called “Storms”. It’s a short short delving into the mind of a soldier about to fight the Battle of the Somme. I look forward to being able to link to it so you folks can read it. You’d think after my long gap from blogging I’d have more to say, but no. No, I don’t. It’s been a busy, hectic time, but none of it worth talking about. I am now trying to fix my laptop, because without it my writing grinds to a halt. So there is that. Tomorrow I will post more preview…
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The first time you taste possum you begin to question if this is what you really want to be doing with your time. It’s got a gritty taste, like lamb rubbed down with sandpaper, and the scent. Well, no amount of cheap whiskey or vomit will wash that out of your mouth. So needless to say, it makes you begin to question the choices you’ve made. Thing is, when the rails catch up to you, eventually you’ll eat whatever you can find. It was somewhere in Tennessee, I think — the details are still a little foggy — but it was the first bite I’d had since leaving Kentucky and besides, if you find someone on the tracks will to share his dinner you don’t…
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