9 out of 10 dentists surveyed recommend the 100 Word Challenge for their patients who engage in online literary challenges. This week's word is pleasure, and my entry is called "Service Time"
“My pleasure,” she said. It was the corporate line, drilled into them when they were trained. Just say it, regardless of whether you mean it, and after a few slipups, she incorporated it into her patois. “Number 4 Meal with Fries and a Sprite? Certainly. My pleasure.” Over and over again, for hour upon undercompensated hour. Pleasure was something to hoard, to be won, not a prize to be handed out to every caller. She sighed, careful not to let the mic pick it up. “Welcome to Chick Fil A, may I take your order?”, she asked with false cheeriness.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
I managed to not mess up! Uh, hooray? "No Returns"
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
A quick quote, before I go back to my writing
" 'You're awfully good. If I didn't love you for anything else I'd love you for decisions.'
'They're easy to make when you haven't seen how too many of them can turn out.' "
-Hemingway, "The Garden of Eden"
'They're easy to make when you haven't seen how too many of them can turn out.' "
-Hemingway, "The Garden of Eden"
Monday, November 08, 2010
If I Could Be Anyone, At Any Time In Recorded History...
I might be Duff McKagan (the blond who isn't the drummer) on the day this video was made.
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Can a Flash be A Flash Without Me? Apparently.
The 52/250 Flash is up here this week, the theme being "Least Favorite". You should go read it. However, my work is NOT there, only because, I assume, I forgot to send it in.
Sigh.
So here it is, "Least Favorite", NOT part of the 52/250 Flash, because I'm dumb.
“Oh, great,” Natalia said under her breath. “Bacon.”
Of all the food products she dealt with behind the sandwich counter, bacon was by far her least favorite. It just looked wrong, with its marbled surface, all dried up but somehow still greasy, looking like a dog treat. Sure, she was a vegetarian, too - one of a group of idealistic high school freshmen who tried it as a weight loss method and social protest, she was the only one who found it easy to maintain as the years went by - but the bacon here was just gross.
She looked over her slim glasses to try and see who ordered the bacon-filled sandwich. It was probably him, seeing a middle aged fat guy with a grizzled goatee staring at her. You need less bacon and more sit ups, she thought, then made a mental note to add that to her notebook. It might work well in her novel.
She hated her glasses, they made her look geeky. She longed for contacts, but she didn’t even bother to mention it- she sensed what her mother could and couldn’t afford, and had stopped asking.
She made the sandwich mechanically, just another sandwich, hour upon endless hour. She had become someone who just existed, not her favorite way to be. She finished, called out the sandwich’s number, and the hefty guy came forward immediately and took it from her.
“Thanks,” he said, and smiled. His eyes were wrinkled, but kind.
Sigh.
So here it is, "Least Favorite", NOT part of the 52/250 Flash, because I'm dumb.
“Oh, great,” Natalia said under her breath. “Bacon.”
Of all the food products she dealt with behind the sandwich counter, bacon was by far her least favorite. It just looked wrong, with its marbled surface, all dried up but somehow still greasy, looking like a dog treat. Sure, she was a vegetarian, too - one of a group of idealistic high school freshmen who tried it as a weight loss method and social protest, she was the only one who found it easy to maintain as the years went by - but the bacon here was just gross.
She looked over her slim glasses to try and see who ordered the bacon-filled sandwich. It was probably him, seeing a middle aged fat guy with a grizzled goatee staring at her. You need less bacon and more sit ups, she thought, then made a mental note to add that to her notebook. It might work well in her novel.
She hated her glasses, they made her look geeky. She longed for contacts, but she didn’t even bother to mention it- she sensed what her mother could and couldn’t afford, and had stopped asking.
She made the sandwich mechanically, just another sandwich, hour upon endless hour. She had become someone who just existed, not her favorite way to be. She finished, called out the sandwich’s number, and the hefty guy came forward immediately and took it from her.
“Thanks,” he said, and smiled. His eyes were wrinkled, but kind.
Thursday, November 04, 2010
100 Word Challenge: Show Me Something
The 100 Word Challenge resides here, and could save you 15% on your car insurance. The word this week is "harsh", and my story is called "Show Me Something"
Her track suit was tight, electric blue, and it glowed where the sun hit it. She was blonde, of indeterminate age, and standing very close to me.
“What would you say, sir, “ she said with a posh British accent, “if I told you this all natural cleanser would get a coffee stain off of your shirt in 15 seconds, and if it didn’t, I’d give you 50 American dollars? All natural, no harsh abrasives, no scrubbing.”
She peered at me, her pale blue eyes searching me out, looking at my Dodgers t shirt and my eyes.
“Go ahead,” I said.
Her track suit was tight, electric blue, and it glowed where the sun hit it. She was blonde, of indeterminate age, and standing very close to me.
“What would you say, sir, “ she said with a posh British accent, “if I told you this all natural cleanser would get a coffee stain off of your shirt in 15 seconds, and if it didn’t, I’d give you 50 American dollars? All natural, no harsh abrasives, no scrubbing.”
She peered at me, her pale blue eyes searching me out, looking at my Dodgers t shirt and my eyes.
“Go ahead,” I said.
One hopes Mr. Larson's estate got PAID
Macy's is now running a commercial featuring one of the songs from "Rent", a musical that I have a positively unhealthy fondness for. I am trying to remember James Hetfield's dictum that, if I'm going to accuse someone of selling out, I should at least have had an offer made for something of mine first. (Implying that it's a little easier to sell out if someone is willing to make you set for life-it would be hard to turn down that kind of money.) So I will leave it with the wish that Macy's took care of the composer's family. (Jonathan Larson, the composer, died before the show opened on Broadway.)
And if you haven't seen "Rent", by all means please do so. It's marvelous.
Wednesday, November 03, 2010
NaNoWriMo: It's Everywhere You Want To Be
Current Word Count: 3906
Goal for Today: 5000
This is thrilling, isn't it?
Goal for Today: 5000
This is thrilling, isn't it?
Tuesday, November 02, 2010
Oh, my.
A movie is coming out based on Ernest Hemingway's unfinished novel, "The Garden of Eden". It certainly looks very adult, very passionate, very intriguing. The novel is odd-very Hemingway, in places, and very different in others. Of course, he died with it unfinished, so who knows what he really intended for it. But the movie, at first glance, seems true to the manuscript that remained. I wonder how successful a movie about grownups doing grownup things will be in 2010.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
What Do I Want?
What do I want?
I've been asked this question a lot lately. I've been asking it of myself, and other people have asked it of me.
I have given lots and lots of different answers, most of them at least partially in jest.
-$252,000(I don't know why that particular number. It would solve a lot of problems, though. Arguably, the only problem it doesn't solve is "owing someone $253,000.")
-World Peace
-Musical talent(If I have longed for one thing that I do not have above all else, it is that. I love music and it frustrates me to no end that I can't produce it.)
-The ability to pursue my passions and earn a living while doing it.
-Overwhelming physical attractiveness
-For this dang cold to go away already.
Among other things.
NaNo starts tomorrow-really, tonight at midnight. I'm going to do it again. I don't know if I'll finish-writing all 50000 words in 30 days. Nobody does until they try. If what comes out is less than nauseating and plausibly editable, I may just clean it up and self publish it. (Rest assured, if you are a regular reader, you won't miss out. I will pimp it like mad.)
Gretchen Cello says she writes to "heal humanity with art". Given her outrageous talent, she probably could. Kelly at Ordinary Art would probably laugh at that. She says stories should be as big as people. Hemingway said writing was an obsession- the only thing that hurt worse than writing was not writing.
I don't know what I believe.
Scratch that.
To quote Crash Davis, I believe in "the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days."
I don't know what I want. I have never been entirely sure who I am. I don't know what the next 30 days are going to be like. I don't know who will win the election on Tuesday.
But I know the ball drops at midnight.
Nanowrimo.org
Join us. Admission is free, and you only have to be slightly insane.
I've been asked this question a lot lately. I've been asking it of myself, and other people have asked it of me.
I have given lots and lots of different answers, most of them at least partially in jest.
-$252,000(I don't know why that particular number. It would solve a lot of problems, though. Arguably, the only problem it doesn't solve is "owing someone $253,000.")
-World Peace
-Musical talent(If I have longed for one thing that I do not have above all else, it is that. I love music and it frustrates me to no end that I can't produce it.)
-The ability to pursue my passions and earn a living while doing it.
-Overwhelming physical attractiveness
-For this dang cold to go away already.
Among other things.
NaNo starts tomorrow-really, tonight at midnight. I'm going to do it again. I don't know if I'll finish-writing all 50000 words in 30 days. Nobody does until they try. If what comes out is less than nauseating and plausibly editable, I may just clean it up and self publish it. (Rest assured, if you are a regular reader, you won't miss out. I will pimp it like mad.)
Gretchen Cello says she writes to "heal humanity with art". Given her outrageous talent, she probably could. Kelly at Ordinary Art would probably laugh at that. She says stories should be as big as people. Hemingway said writing was an obsession- the only thing that hurt worse than writing was not writing.
I don't know what I believe.
Scratch that.
To quote Crash Davis, I believe in "the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days."
I don't know what I want. I have never been entirely sure who I am. I don't know what the next 30 days are going to be like. I don't know who will win the election on Tuesday.
But I know the ball drops at midnight.
Nanowrimo.org
Join us. Admission is free, and you only have to be slightly insane.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
I may, indeed, be cracking under the strain.
A very funny Gilbert and Sullivan parody, dealing with the fabulous NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month, which rears its lovely head Moanday, November 1.
Warming Up On Flash Fiction Friday
This is my Flash Fiction for 52/250 this week. The theme was "Tombstones", and, as you will see if you read it, I went in a direction you might not necessarily have expected.
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