Flash Fiction: Don’t Mess With Our Lion

My flash fiction offering for this week’s challenge from Terribleminds. This week the challenge was to use a randomly generated title. The titles were generated here, which creates kooky American military operation names. The title I chose from my five was:

“Don’t Mess With Our Lion”

The doorbell rang and Julie’s heart began racing. When she opened it and found that it really was Ray waiting on her porch her heart skipped a beat. He looked perfect and with her parents gone overnight to a conference for her mother’s company she knew they could have a perfect evening.

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Some Inspiration

So I did a crazy thing a day or so ago. I took this story I’d been working on and actually submitted it to a magazine for consideration. To tie in with this rash act I’ve added a new bit to the sidebar where I’m going to keep track of how many short stories I’ve sent out to publishers, how many times my submissions have been rejected and how many times they’ve been accepted. At the time of this post the count is a very tiny 1-0-0.

I have to tell you that if you’re a writer who has never tried to get any short fiction published you should really work something up that you think is of a quality worthy of submission and try it out. Pushing the send button on my submission was like suddenly being hit by a few shots of tequila. I was quite giddy and the adrenaline started pumping. Like any good adrenaline high this was a whole lot of excitement and fear all mixed up together. Now I sit and wait for the yea or nay. Luckily I don’t have to wait long because the magazine I submitted to seems to get through their submissions very quickly.

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Flash Fiction: Road Trip

This is another bit of flash fiction written in response to the current (at the time of this post anyway) Flash Fiction challenge from terribleminds. This week the challenge is about travel. My story here has hit the 1000 word limit dead on. It was originally almost 300 words over that limit so I revised and revised until I got it down to where it needed to be. Hopefully it has not suffered in the process.

“Road Trip”

The day I found the invitation to Vince’s wedding in the mail I was having lunch with Tim so I brought it with me. When I got to Mel’s, Tim was lounging in a booth, drinking coffee, and staring out the window. I plunked myself down across the table and tossed him the invitation.

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A collection of weekend thoughts

I have been mulling over the kind of content I could provide on this blog that would make it an interesting place to visit and allow it to be more than just a collection of vain ramblings about my own personal dreams. Obviously at this point I have no expert or authoritative advice to provide. I’ve never had a blog or website before and I’ve never had anything published. Both the craft and business of writing are fields I’m largely ignorant of. So, I certainly can’t tell any of you how to write a good story, produce a great blog or get published. What I can offer is a perspective that you might find interesting, perhaps even useful. I can’t tell you what I know with any great confidence, but I can share with you what I learn. I can point you to people, places and things I’ve personally found useful or inspiring. Your mileage may very, but if you find yourself at a similar stage of professional and creative development as I am then you might find some of it useful or inspiring too.

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The Price of Wisdom

This is a short story written as an entry to a Flash Fiction challenge issued by Chuck Wendig at his blog Terribleminds. Specifically, this is the entry for the challenge “Death Is On The Table”.

“The Price of Wisdom”

The rough and tired looking first chaplain listened to the far off screams and knew that soon he and his men would be surrounded by the terrible agony of wounded and dying soldiers. He looked around at the young acolytes and counted only two battled hardened war healers amongst a dozen other green boys. They were all looking at him and he remembered looking at another rough and tired first chaplain through his own young eyes long ago and did not envy them. Clearing his throat he began the small speech he had given so many times.

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