Friday Freewrite

What’s Friday Freewrite? Find out here.

My writing muscles, rusty and ridden with arthritis in their old age1, squeak and squeel2 and catch as I try to capture that once fluid rhythm that I had once known when I’d regularly fed and nourished my writing, before the neglect, before the indifference, the laziness, the unwillingness to go on in the face of difficulty. I open the faucet, expecting an outpouring, and I find that the pipes have run dry.

Frantic, I run to the well, hoping to find underground reserves buried somewhere deep inside my psyche, and I find that it too is dry.

I collapse, a rag doll, to the ground, bury my face in my hands, and I weep.

I weep bitter acrid tears, tears of acid that burn the land as they fall to the ground.

I weep for the loss of all I loved and held dear, that priceless gem, the diadem I once wore atop my head with pride.

It’s all gone now, just a ghost, a hollow emptied soul howling in pain and anguish, wandering dusty ill-lit chambers late at night, accusing me of a terrible crime. I hear its lamentations, its accusations, and I can’t help but reach the same conclusions.

I am worse than a criminal. In doing nothing, I’ve murdered myself, along with everything I loved.

I deserve to die.


Footnotes

1. I wrote this after having neglected my writing for a few months. It took me a long time to feel confident again.

2. Should be squeal.


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Friday Freewrite

What’s Friday Freewrite? Find out here.

He imagined what the meeting would be like1, and he cried. He hadn’t met her yet, and already he cried. Enough premature emotional ejaculation and he was fairly certain there would be no tears left to shed for the event itself.


He tirelessly rallied against the imperfections of others2 because he secretly harbored a grudge against the imperfections in himself.


He gazed out the tiny double-paned plastic porthole3, taking in the landscape below, ripples and folds in a great geological fabric.


Footnotes

1. I wrote this on an airplane last November, on my way to meet a woman I’d dated for seven months before finally going to meet her. I’m happy to report that the meeting went well, and we’re still together today <3

2. I’ve never done this myself, you understand. No, not once…

3. This I wrote the second time I was on an airplane three months later :) Same destination.


If you want to keep up with my work and to know when I publish my next book, join my mailing list by clicking here. In return, I’ll send you a free copy of my short story The Sign. I’ll only send you an email once a month and you can easily unsubscribe at any time.

Who Am I? It’s A Mystery.

My nephew Mason had his fourth birthday party last December, and the house was saturated with plastic helium balloons. When the festivities were over, I tried to think of things I could do with them (other than make myself sound like a chipmunk) so they wouldn’t completely go to waste.

Suddenly inspired, I grabbed a sheet of paper, scribbled a note and attached it to one of the balloons before releasing it into the sky. It was my hope that I could instill a sense of mystery and wonder into a random stranger’s life.

This is what the note said:

You might be wondering who I am. But who I am is a mystery. All the evidence you have of my existence is this solitary note.

That’s part of what makes life so interesting. From the big mysteries, like what we are and why we’re here, to the small mysteries, like who that crazy guy is who’s sending notes out on balloons.

Enjoy life. Enjoy the mystery. <3

In the very unlikely event you happen to be the person who found my note, please let me know in the comments below!


If you want to keep up with my work and to know when I publish my next book, join my mailing list by clicking here. In return, I’ll send you a free copy of my short story The Sign. I’ll only send you an email once a month and you can easily unsubscribe at any time.

Friday Freewrite

What’s Friday Freewrite? Find out here.

Spinning, swirling colors, neon bright, transcendent in splendor, colors that don’t exist in the visible spectrum, only I can see them, for my nature transcends the human experience, though I was once human like all the rest.

Now, I sit atop a cloud of cosmic energy, glowing brighter than a helium star, and from atop my cosmic perch I behold the rise and fall of worlds, colliding, anhilating1, something else I can’t think of2.

Something. A wonderful placeholder, so perfect. Perfection is imperfection. Freewriting. So freeing. I don’t have to know what I want to say, because I can simply let my mind generate ideas by itself.

The mind. Cosmic. Transcendent. It defies a totally materialistic origin, is rooted in a materialistic universe yet is something more. LIke some impossibly ancient tree, its trunk rises high above the material universe, sprouts sprawling branches far above, somewhere in another realm, a higher plane of existence, an abstract world of concepts and ideas, of existence in its purest essence, the elixir of life, the seed of life, with no cumbersome matter to bog it down.


Footnotes

1. This should have been spelled annihilating. English, you so silly.

2. When I can’t think of anything to say and I’m freewriting, I write about that. Eventually, as you’ll see a little further down, I move on to something new. When you’re freewriting, it’s very important to keep the pen moving, even if you have no idea what to write about.


If you want to keep up with my work and to know when I publish my next book, join my mailing list by clicking here. In return, I’ll send you a free copy of my short story The Sign. I’ll only send you an email once a month and you can easily unsubscribe at any time.

#OneLineStories

 

I’ve started a new series on Twitter under the hashtag #OneLineStories. The idea is to capture the essence of (or at least hint at) a complete story in a single tweet. How am I doing? Tweet me back, or reply in the comments below!

You can read my “One Line” stories by clicking here.


If you want to keep up with my work and to know when I publish my next book, join my mailing list by clicking here. In return, I’ll send you a free copy of my short story The Sign. I’ll only send you an email once a month and you can easily unsubscribe at any time.

Time

It’s amazing how slowly time seems to go as you experience childhood. You have those landmark days like Christmas and your birthday to mark the year, and it seems almost a lifetime in-between.

You grow up a bit.  Time starts to pick up its pace, but not by much.  You spend six years in Elementary School, convinced you have life all figured out.  Then you reach the end of your sixth grade year, and the pressures of the unknown begin to gnaw at the back of your mind as you contemplate the notion of — GASP! — Junior High.

By this point, time’s speed has increased markedly.  However, you soon discover that Junior High is no big deal, and you once more begin to believe that you have life all figured out, that things will always be as they are in that moment.  You have some notion of existing in a transient state, but as you deal with new friends, new enemies and the stresses that come with peer pressure, it’s really the last thing that enters your mind.

You reach the end of your eighth grade year, another milestone, and uncertainty creeps into your mind once again.  This time, it’s the frightening prospect of High School.  You’re not quite as worried about High School as you were about Junior High, but fear gets the better of you just the same.  You endure sleepless nights over summer vacation dreaming about forgotten classes, getting lost in an endless maze of foreign buildings and embarrassing moments with your peers.  Finally, you attend your first day of school, realize it’s nothing new and settle into your home away from home for the next four years.

This is the moment that time really decides to kick itself into gear.  People always used to tell you this would happen, but you never really believed them. You lose old friends, make new ones, lose yourself, find yourself.  When it’s all said and done, you’re standing there amidst your family and peers getting ready to receive your diploma.  You sing your school’s Alma mater one last time, and you find yourself trying to hide unexpected tears as you realize that, despite what you thought at the time, those really were the best years of your life.


If you want to keep up with my work and to know when I publish my next book, join my mailing list by clicking here. In return, I’ll send you a free copy of my short story The Sign. I’ll only send you an email once a month and you can easily unsubscribe at any time.

Friday Freewrite

What’s Friday Freewrite? Find out here.

Wondering what will happen in the future. Will I have success with my writing? Who knows? I want to. Can I, perhaps, be the next Stephen King? It’s an audacious hope1, but I have a lot of ideas, and if I could dedicate myself to my writing full time, I could possibly have some success. Maybe. Who knows.

I would love to make a living by writing.2 I want so bad to be free of the shackles of having to work for someone else full time. It sucks.3

I also want to go back to school. I want to study math and physics full time.4

Oh God, please, hear my pleas. Get it? Please? Pleas? Actually, come to think of it, those two words are only different by one letter.

“The difference between pleas and please is just one letter.”

I swear, there’s ALMOST a teachable plattitude5 in there somewhere…6


Footnotes

1. Yes. Yes, it is.

2. I have a lot of self-discipline to acquire first. Just have to keep trying…

3. Sometimes I whine in my freewriting. True story.

4. I studied some in school before I was forced to graduate with a degree in Computer Science, and the experience changed me in mysterious ways. These two subjects continue to haunt me with their absence, and will probably continue to do so until either the day I pick them up again or the day I die, whichever comes first.

5. Should be platitude.

6. …and a year later, I still haven’t figured out what it is :)


If you want to keep up with my work and to know when I publish my next book, join my mailing list by clicking here. In return, I’ll send you a free copy of my short story The Sign. I’ll only send you an email once a month and you can easily unsubscribe at any time.