Here's the full short story previously posted in four segments. I hope you enjoy it. 1.THE FEELING BOTTOMS OUT The first observation of Clyde Barns on his birthday was that his Facebook timeline was crammed. Some just cut and pasted “Happy birthday,” some took the time to add his name, some attached cartoons with rabbits …
Tag: writing
Turn It Up
This short story about changing times in a man’s life began with “The Feeling Bottoms Out.” The second episode was “The Mercy Killing.” Here’s the third. Clyde Barns was no regular at Henny’s Farm and Tractor, which was a sports bar occupying what once had been a Massey Ferguson dealership. For twenty years, most …
The Feeling Bottoms Out
I didn’t plan on tumbling right back into another short story, but today really is my birthday. When my job was eliminated, it wasn’t on my birthday. Obviously, this is total fiction, and any similarity to actual events … you know the drill. The first observation of Clyde Barns on his birthday was that his …
The Writing Sanctions
I have to protect myself. From myself. The world provides too many things to do. It’s too easy to while away a day dragging a finger across an iPhone screen on a Twitter scroll. It’s too easy to wonder what made that dog seem so happy, or that cheeseburger so succulent, on Facebook. Plus, too …
Paydirt and Paved Roads
Last night I learned that the term “paydirt” wasn’t invented by some overheated local sports writer who decided that the dirt underneath the grass in the end zone was dirt that paid, even though it was probably a high school game and the only payoff would have been “under the table.” It was the term for …
Little Things Mean Too Much
At this stage of life, one considers strictly important matters. One questions matters he has blithely accepted for decades. For instance, the word “like” is often used to mean “lack,” as in the great line from Roger Miller’s “Dang Me”: “I like fourteen dollars having twenty-seven cents.” One thinks, why is it “like”? And, then, …
Where Might the Suspects Be?
Paralysis. Groping for some coherence. Doing menial chores just as a substitute for creativity, in the desperate hope that something will arise, something out of thin air or gray matter. Pairing socks. Washing dishes. Paying bills. Biding time till something, anything, happens along. He picked up his guitar, started strumming, but he wasn’t of a …
Writing Its Ownself
Nothing about writing is absolute. General rules of thumb abound. Discipline is required. It’s keeping score at a baseball game. The only way to do it is what works for you. Some etch a path around the diamond. Some rely on little dots and lines. Some worry about the balls and strikes. Some don’t. Few …
Upon Further Review …
Until I did it occasionally a year ago and regularly this year, I hadn’t written about a high school football game in more than fifteen years. Back then, I thought myself quite the whiz kid. I could keep running accounts of the game and cumulative totals at the same time. Then I could talk to …
My Fingers Are Faster
This sharp little number has speeded me up. It’s a transformer, capable of serving both my laptop and tablet needs. I don’t fully understand my tablet needs. I’ve had a laptop. I’ve had an iPhone. Now I’ve got the capability of existing in between. Middle Earth, maybe. What could be finer than to be in …
Nightrider's Lament 