100 Words or Fewer

Write a story in 100 Words or fewer using the words:

  • page
  • chase
  • bleak
  • entity
  • breach

Leroy read the page three times before someone bothered to chase his fluffer down. He remembered a time when female headliners would have proved useful to his purpose, but they had long since abandoned the art. They were a separate entity now, and believed the act would surely be some form of breach of contract.

Leroy dropped his robe and gazed pitifully at his talent; its imminent future bleak. It seemed casting had begun recruiting eager, but unskilled labor, judging by his many calluses.

He heaved a sigh. Things could be worse, he thought. I could still be agenting.

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Filed under Flash fiction

Funny Agent Rebuttal

To the Duplicitous Mr. Bradford,

I find your five-minute rejection of my query utterly appalling. I‘ll have you know, good sir, that I waited at least TEN minutes while you finished your ablutions in the men’s room of the Marriott before I pitched you my novel.

Clearly, the good people at Supernatural Fan-Fiction who included me in their “Top 100 honorable mention for slash fiction” list and the learned folks who voted me “Most Improved” at the Write a Song for Kesha site are able to recognize literary talent.

You sir, are a rube.

This response is copyright protected.

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Filed under July 2010

Halloween Evil Editor

I wish I had the courage to kill you, my darling. Oh, to have the strength to give you what you ask! Alas, my beloved EE, I am weak. You cannot imagine how it pained me to remove your feet. Surely, you understand the sacrifices we must make for our love!

It all started so beautifully, did it not my darling? That glorious day when at long last you chose me! I hardly believed it myself. Oh how you teased me, renaming my characters and asking your silly questions. How did you know the pleasure I would receive, seeing your words in blue intertwined with mine?

So why, oh why EE did it have to end?

Did my novelty wear off after only one day?! Did you think I wouldn’t notice you had moved on to another? Did you think I wouldn’t recognize your words in blue?

I recognized you, EE. I recognized you because you belong to me.

I do not blame you for straying, my darling. You’re just an editor, after all, easily swayed by proper grammar and strict adherence to word counts. I forgive you your frailties.

But I see now that I have to protect you and our love from these seductive, literary succubi who covet your blue words for themselves.

Please do not cry, my sweet EE. You shall not miss your hands for long!

Just as you gave yourself to me, I shall become you. I will sacrifice my own identity to assume yours, my beloved EE, as a testament to our devotion to each other. I will advise these usurpers of our love with your own beautiful, blue words. Oh darling, how it will pain me to mingle my words with theirs. But love is pain EE, as you well know.

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Filed under Evil Editor Fun

My “Too Naughty for NPR” Submission

Some people swore that the house was haunted. They attributed the flickering lights and ghostly shadows to some disembodied entity. Truth be told, the only entity roaming the halls of Wakefield Manor is me.

Now why, you ask, would a handsome young collegian such as myself devote his nights to keeping this particular piece of folklore alive? My answer is this–sexual conquest. 

But please, let me explain.

My sexual prowess is legendary, not because I am willing to bed any accommodating female, but because of my commitment to the long abandoned art of seduction. I indulge in romantic illusion; a “haunted” house becomes a gothic castle, and I, for one glorious night, become my intended’s very own Heathcliff. I elevate the act of wooing and bedding to carnal exaltation, and I consider my technique to be well worth the effort. Though not all on campus would agree.

My fraternity brothers would have you believe a dorm room kegger is the easiest way to separate a sorority cheerleader from her pom poms. I find this approach lazy, and if I may be frank, rather sloppy. I have always preferred my heart (or loins) desire coherent, and when at all possible, vomit free.

Then there are my oft-misguided brothers who subscribe to the theory of proximity. They unabashedly join drama clubs or dance teams in an effort to appear “female-friendly”. This method seldom works as expected, and generally lands them in a romantic Siberia known as the “friend zone” or, heaven forbid, as a “gay confidant”.

Nothing short of public coitis counters that specific reputation.

No, my preferred method of seduction requires strategy, finesse, and pain staking attention to detail. I combine these elements to create a cleverly orchestrated fantasy; a fantasy that until one fateful night, never failed to deliver.

It was on this same ill-fated night that I drove the new girl to the abandoned manor. And I, as planned, left her to wait in my car while I went inside to set the stage. I spread a blanket on the floor and placed candles around the room. I smiled as I lit them, the smug bastard that I am, confident their life would end before my encounter did. All I needed to do was sit back and wait for the sound of my name called out for rescue from the darkness.

Or so I thought.

This girl, unlike the others, was not content to wait for me to rescue her. This girl marched, unaccompanied, into my half-lit lair of seduction. I tried to read her expression as she looked around the room, but couldn’t decide if she were insulted by my efforts or amused by them. Then she spoke.

“You can’t be serious.”

I panicked and dove deep into my repertoire. “Darling” I started, “let me explain. I–”.

She raised her finger to my lips. “Don‘t.” She smiled at me, but only slightly.

I felt oddly exposed. I had no idea how to handle a woman I couldn’t bewitch. All I could do was watch her walk around the room, blowing out my candles–all but one.

 “I think it best you see me home now.” Then she looked into my eyes and saw me– I mean, really saw me. And it was at that very moment, ladies and gentlemen, that I knew.

 I had been conquered.

“Give me your arm,” she commanded. And I, completely against my nature, obliged. She held the last candle high against the darkness and led me out the manor door. Nothing was ever the same again after that.

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Filed under NPR Fun

Guide to Literary Agents

Head over to Guide to Literary Agents through the following link. It’s a great site for would-be writers who are searching for the ever elusive agent!





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Filed under Blogroll

Writing is a demon muse from Hell.

Once upon a time I was great at everything.

In grade school I won every award imaginable (even penmanship), broke the record for the most gold stars and kicked some major ass at dodgeball. My high school years never saw a diet, a bad hair day or a pimple.  And I was always asked to prom.

Then I started writing. 

Like the survivor of some tragic car accident, I blocked out the exact moment when I first decided to write. I am only able to recall events of the aftermath; like a kitchen sink full of dirty dishes and a week’s worth of neglected showers. I even gave myself something called “ulnar palsy”, apparently caused by overworking my left pinky on the shift key. Really.

Since I started writing I’ve lost most of my hair, gotten hemorrhoids due to prolonged sitting and have developed a furrow in my brow that no amount of Botox can touch. I’m also shorter somehow.

But I can’t stop. I’ve never done ANYTHING I couldn’t master almost immediately, and I have become obsessed with the challenge of writing novels. Or short stories. Or essays. Bathroom stall literature. Anything.

It doesn’t matter what genre, what POV, or how many I write at the same time (I have three in various stages of completion), I am compelled to write. When I’m not writing I’m learning about writing, or publishing or marketing. And of course, reading.

What I find I do not do often is blog. There are so many characters and stories swirling around in my head that are infinitely more interesting than anything having to do with me, that I struggle to find something about myself to offer in a post.

So here I am: The world’s suckiest writer.

(My spell checker just let me know that “suckiest” is not a word.)


Filed under July 2010

Independence Day

This is the first post of my first blog. I’m hoping this blog will be a way for me to continue to write and interact with other writers. I have learned so much over the course of the last two years in my attempt to educate myself as a writer. I am still learning but am committed to finishing the many novels I have in various stages of completion. (I know, this is big “don’t”). Anyone out there skip around as well?

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Filed under July 2010