Yes, it’s true! Valentine’s Day is sidling up to us! This quirky workshop is designed for funny/strange/beautiful/ micro-sized love story truffles!
In my popular 3 day microfiction workshop, participants will be using the 100 word story constraint. We’ll be using story models and prompts. My prompts are designed to help all writers break through creative barriers. There will be feedback from me directly on every story, as well as peer feedback. The workshop will be held in a private Facebook group. Cost for the workshop is $100 USD per student.
Numbers of students are limited. For enrollment info, please email me directly here.
A video of me live streaming online for the first time ever. Thanks to Tipp City Public Library for inviting me to read and to Mark Givens and Pelekinesis Press for publishing ‘The Dog Seated Next to Me’. Aside from feeling a bit startled when it started to go live, it really wasn’t too bad.
Marigold published in Brilliant Flash Fiction, 2020
I was not occupied enough to avoid this moment in which it came down to Marigold and I taking very slow walks and looking at the sky and saying, Mmmm hmmmm, no good can come of thesebig grey dogs.
It was summer and everyone was busy with their husbands or their lovers or both. Me? I was being productive at home by not being at home. Walking aimlessly around with Marigold, a nonagenarian, despite the ominous-looking rain clouds. I was Marigold’s sort-of helper but mainly she wanted me to walk around outside with her. To protect her from unsavory animals.
This may have had
something to do with me having nothing in my life, causing me to relate to my
new old friend, Marigold, ninety-five years young, hardly able to breathe
without a bellows.
It was about the wheel of time, spinning and landing on someone else’s life. How each day and each night tasted wrong since Ed left me for a man named Edwin. Almost funny, or very funny. Canned laughter in my mind, at this point.
Marigold, up the street, with nothing but a parakeet, Marigold would understand if she could hear well enough but she had lousy hearing so I didn’t try to explain, and only alerted her when something was a menace to her health or safety. For example when new people with dogs moved in across the street from her, I warned her not to go outside alone, only with pepper spray or a weapon or with me next to her.
She laughed (she had
a great sense of humor) and she sometimes cackled on for minutes which felt like
serious overkill, but it was as if her laugh switch had been turned on and
there was no off switch.
The haystacks of
postcards she got from great-grandchildren (or at least some people who claimed
to be her great-grandchildren but were now grown up and living in exotic
places) were piling up in her foyer. I wasn’t her cleaning person in any formal
way, she didn’t pay me, but I did dust off postcards for her and also, I
offered to read them to her.
Many of the
postcards these relatives sent had no character. They were pictures of office buildings
and unrecognizable beaches. They probably just sent her cards to get it over
with. Hell, I thought, Marigold must be loaded, and they did not want to be
left out of her will.
Marigold was very
alone, is what I’m saying, so it wasn’t kind to confess to Marigold about what
I had done, but I told her that I’d taken her amber pin. The one in the shape
of two lovebirds.
“I stole it
from you, you see, Marigold,” I said.
I told her that I
needed the pin. Needed two loving birds. Admitted how I just couldn’t keep pace
with the world and had started to take things from the people I loved. “I’m
sorry,” I said.
She hugged me. I
could feel the hollowness of her bones. She was almost gone.
your fault,” she said, in an invisible, high-pitched voice that only dogs and
me could hear. “You have always needed a rescue animal.”
It’s an honour to have won Blue Light Press’ Blue Light Book Award for my new collection of microfiction, Spinning To Mars! This title is forthcoming from Blue Light Press in 2020. Below is a sneak preview of the cover…