I jog up to my chosen starting
point, and put on a colossal burst of energy as I cross the stripe on the
asphalt. My whole body shakes. I begin well, concentrating… “knees, toes.” I’m
actually thinking about running on my toes and picking up my knees. Supposedly,
this is what one must do to run at the absolute fastest pace possible.
Wednesday, April 6, 2016
The HIT!
The Hit
Every year, the coaches tell the seniors that they should play
the final game—even their entire final season—like it was their last. This was
it, our last football game. My team, the Newell Panthers, were visiting
Wall Lake to take on the Comets.
To the hog house
To
the hog house
I
didn’t bother opening the wooden gate because the latch sometimes didn’t fall
back into place cleanly and you’d have to fiddle around with it. I’d rather
just climb over. Fences are so cool. People can climb over a fence, but
cattle—much bigger, tougher, stronger—have to stand on the other side,
watching.
Labels:
crying,
dirty clothes,
dry,
farm,
fence,
perfect weather,
pigs,
rain
the unemployed writer
Unemployed
writer
I’m
an unemployed writer. Oh, yes, I write, but nothing goes anywhere except to my
own self-published blogs. I really need to break into the business and become a
successful writer. I don’t need to get paid. I want the satisfaction that comes
from producing something that others think is worthy of distribution. If I start getting some stuff out there,
whether it is at online publications, or in local newspapers, I will find the
encouragement needed to keep going.
Then, maybe we’ll get around to thinking about payment, and then the
best seller, and the notoriety, yada, yada, yada.
Friday, December 4, 2015
Customs officials don't care. Why would they?
I leaned on a metal table, faced
with the fact that my flight was taking off in 20 minutes. It was leaving
the ground in 20 minutes. It was nearly a certainty that I would not be on
it. Hell, if I had been honest with myself, I would have realized that there
was 100% certainty that I would not be on it.
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
Kevin saga
This is the second lengthy writing for the creative writing class:
I
walked into the Weeg computer center hoping to get some stuff printed out for
my lesson quickly, and then take off for a wedding in Des Moines. It was
Saturday morning at 7:30, and the place was already full of people. I was heading into one room to look for an
assistant because I couldn’t get the computer to recognize my floppy disk when
I heard him.
dialog, no tags or extra info. just speech
The assignment is to write dialog
without any tags (he said, she said), without adjectives, adverbs—just dialog.
The first 9 lines are from the
memoir. The rest is might logically have happened in a similar situation.
Is
Kevin still here?
Yeah,
he’s downstairs.
How
long is he staying?
Good
question. I said he could crash in my
room last night, but didn’t say anything about tonight. I’m actually not sure what he intends to do.
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