All the Lasting Things. It's a wonderful title that could mean a lot in various contexts. To me, it means that the characters created by David Hopson are capable of progress, but not change. Ultimately, they are all imprisoned by their pasts. Broadening their horizons is possible, but freedom from them is not. Benji is …
Tag: writing
She Said, ‘Mama, Got a Note Here from the Harper Valley PTA’
Tuesday was another walking contradiction, particularly since I didn't do much walking. I'd been paying attention to really important matters on Monday -- a rained-out stock car race about which the Bleacher Report pays me to write, college baseball regionals, general early-week angst -- and the grass needed cutting, and I'd spent Tuesday morning writing about …
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Something About Nothing
It's gone, gone, gone. Gone, gone, gone. Crying won't bring it back. I have paraphrased. Lefty Frizzell was singing about a woman. My loss was just seven minutes long. It was a blog I worked on for seven minutes, but it was moving rapidly when the keyboard went dead, and the screen turned Petty blue, …
The Pain of It Will Ease a Bit When You Find a Book with True Grit
I'm writing a western. I thought it might be useful to read one. My choice was darn near perfect. In 2010, when the Coen Brothers released a remake of True Grit, they insisted it wasn’t one. It was made independently from the original novel by Charles Portis. I found this odd when I watched the …
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I’d Try This Style if I Could Swing It
Sometimes reading a book leaves me green with envy. Such is the case with Matthew Norman's We're All Damaged. I believe we are. Two novels ago – three once I get Cowboys Come Home finished -- I started writing Crazy of Natural Causes as a farce. Then I immersed myself in the outrageous football coach, …
News-Free Love
I haven't written enough short stories recently. This one could wind up as the beginning of a novel. Fortunately, by nature, Jordie Smithson was annoyingly early. He always allowed for disaster. A traffic jam on the way to the airport, for instance. On this Monday, the traffic jam was on the way to the office. …
Nice Timing for The Year of Trump
Allen Kent, in The Wager, has fashioned a yarn based on a bet gone awry. Two giants of the mass media bet they are powerful enough to get a man of their choice elected president. Predictably, one is a liberal, the other conservative. The clash of egos lurks in the background as events unfold. A …
Such an Unlikely Venue for a Descent into Hell
Woe be unto those unfortunate souls who live on Honeysuckle Lane. It appears to be like any other middle-class neighborhood, this one located outside Dublin. The people there have secrets, most of which are just those that might appear familiar to you and me. A man is hiding a gambling addiction. A woman is bored with …
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Who’s Afraid of the Big, Bad Wolf, or, for that Matter, Virginia Woolf?
The Behrg. He's too dark for me. I admire him, though. He is what I'm not, but I revel in his skill. It's a pen name. A nom de plume. He writes horror. I'm not fond of horror, but I'm fond of The Behrg's style, not to mention his literary honesty and his dedication to …
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The Great Known
Mickey got up, drank some coffee, fixed breakfast, and rejoiced in the honor of being the last person on earth whose mother had the good sense to name her son Mickey, and he thought about the glory of Mickey Mantle, Mickey Stanley, Mickey Spillane, and Mickey Montgomery. Okay, the last one he made up. Then …
Nightrider's Lament 