Downtown - Reminiscence

This is part four of my Downtown bit. This one was originally written in the first person, but didn't fit in as well with the other third person pieces.
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Another Jack and seven gets him one step closer to destitution as he sits there in the shadows that seek out guys like him. This smoke-filled, last-stop booze joint caught him in his tumble down through towns he doesn’t recall and women that never stuck. Days travelling from gig to gig, him and his guitar lookin’ for a good time and an audience, are fresh in his mind amid a haze of other things – the “good ol’ days”.

Round the bottom of Jack number four he gets to wondering what ever happened to that guitar.

The bartender looks his way and he knows he's been mumbling out loud. He throws back the last of his drink and makes his way home, stumbling out the door into tomorrow to go home and dream about yesterday.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I'm taking a moment out of my crazy nano schedule to wish my American friends a very happy Thanksgiving holiday. Enjoy your Turkey, your family, your friends, your football, and whatever else the holiday brings your way.

Speaking of giving thanks, I am thankful for Michael Solender's Feast of Flash contest. My partially completed entry was eaten by computer bugs, so I was unable to take part. No matter. Reading the works that were submitted is akin to enjoying a bountiful feast. The entries from the talented participants will have you giving thanks for the art of flash fiction.

Grand Prize Winner:
Thanksgiving Day Pies by Laurel Wilczek

First Runners-Up:
Simple Gifts by Mike Whitney
Undying Gratitude by J. F. Juzwik

Second Runners-Up:
On the Autostrada by Mary Beth Ray
Burning Yesterday by Jodi MacArthur

The prize for this contest was a donation ($100 for the grand prize, $50 for the runners up) to the charity of the winner's choice. Michael showed that he is more than just a brilliant writer with this idea. He is also a great promoter of fellow writers, and wonderfully generous as well. Thank you, Michael.

To everyone celebrating this Thanksgiving holiday, I wish you much luck, love, happiness and health.

Cheers!

Noteworthy

Part three of Downtown.

He stands alone in the shelter of a closed up shop on Water Street. His fingers, calloused with the practice of his passion, move skillfully over worn strings. In the heat of summer and in winter's biting cold, he plays.

They rush past without seeing, vision focused until there is none. He sings about them as they pass - honest words, pure voice - but they do not hear. They are occupied with significant things; the evening meal, catching the train, picking up the dry cleaning.

Occasionally one will stop, listen to his song, nod or tap a foot to his tune. He appreciates this more than the coins thrown absently into his battered guitar case.

Vacation

For those of you who missed me, I'm back! For those of you who didn't, what the heck is wrong with you? I was gone for almost two weeks!

Two weeks of warm vacation bliss. Two weeks of exhausting vacation rush. Packing, unpacking, repacking, laundry. Swimming, shopping, screaming, writing. Ahhh, how I love to travel.


We don't usually vacation in the fall of the year, but it was a welcome change. The day we left home it snowed but we landed in much warmer temperatures. It was my first visit to Florida in November, and it was really nice. We northern folk are not used to the hot and humid conditions of Florida summers. I was there in July and almost melted. November was much more affable.

I won't bore you with the details of my trip. It was a typical crazy, whirlwind family vacation. I will, instead, bore you with photos. My pictures speak louder than my words, and my camera is a constant companion, especially when I travel.

Our trip included three kids, two parents and two grandparents. There were early mornings, long days, and relaxing nights. It was frustrating, oh so frustrating, to coordinate seven individuals and try to please everyone. But it was also great fun, from walking on the beach to visiting the parks. I shopped 'til I dropped, I rode some kick ass roller coasters (8 in just one day), I flirted with Aladdin. And I wrote, pages and pages in a tattered notbook in almost illegible script.

No matter where in the world I happen to roam, that first night back in my own bed is always pure heaven. I was anxious this time to transfer all my scribblings to my hard drive and update my Nano count. It's going surprisingly well. Perhaps those evenings by the pool enhanced my creative energy. I just hope it last trough to the end of the month.

Downtown - The Shop Keeper

This is the second story in my Downtown series.

The Shop Keeper

She arrived every Thursday at exactly eleven forty-five. He watched and waited until he could see her through the window, then busied himself behind the counter until he heard the door chime.

He greeted her as always with a shy smile and immediately got down to business, not knowing what else to say. They looked at her wares, fine handbags made with colourful fabrics, and discussed the quality of her work. He could see her in each one of her creations, in the materials she chose, in the perfect stitching.

She took her payment and lingered expectantly, until he said goodbye.

He kept his eyes on the door until she was out of sight, and began again to count the hours until next Thursday.

Downtown - The Reader

This is the first in a collection of short, short stories inspired by people I see downtown.

The Reader

He sits on that stone wall near the green downtown, oblivious to the rush of the city around him. Next to him, a stack of old books, dog eared and stained – volumes of poetry, adventure, philosophy and love – his wealth of knowledge. His dirty grey beard trembles as he mouths the words, passages he knows by heart. He licks his thumb and turns the page with great care, each page precious, each word a treasure. Every truth exists between the title and the end.

Exactly at five he takes his companions and places them in a tattered bag with the few other things he calls his own. Clutching his belongings to his chest, he makes his way down Water Street to a place with better light.

Nanowrimo!

Thirty days. 50,000 words. Novel writing never seemed so possible.

It's Nanowrimo time again. This will be my first official kick at the keyboard, siging up with a plan in place. In past years I have written along with other nanoers during the cold, harsh month of November but something always appeared to distract me from my goal. Not this time.

One big change for me this time around is my genre. As anyone who reads my short fiction will know, I tend toward dark and creepy or lonely slice of life writes. For my novel attempt I will be writing...romance. Yes, that's right. Romance. My mother-in-law, who has long been a big supporter of my writing has requested that I try my hand at the gentler genre. How could I say no to the grandmother of my children?

Several problems arise with taking on this mission. I am not a really much of a romance reader, therefore some research was necessary in order to adequately prepare. I begged borrowed and bought (no stealing here) romance novels by many different authors as MIL's insistance grew. I made notes, jotted down ideas, and basically filled a notebook with scribbles and thoughts.

And now it's time to put it all to work. A little over 2000 words so far and everything is looking pretty good. There is a plot, there are twists, there are interesting settings. I just hope I can stretch this story to 50,000 words. Most of all there are characters that I really enjoy writing.

Good luck to everyone taking part in this year's challenge. I take comfort in knowing I will be in good company during those late night writing sessions.