Using Movement or Conflict instead of a Plot

Even if you’ve never written a single word, at some point in your life someone has told you how important a plot is to a story. If you have nothing else, you need a plot. For architect writers, the writer that meticulously plots out the story down to the very intricate detail, creating a plot is easy. It’s the first brick in a towering foundation. … Continue reading Using Movement or Conflict instead of a Plot

For What Comes Next – Short Story

I lean my head back, feeling the top of the wooden chair press into the base of my skull. It wasn’t as stifling as it had been during the day, but stickiness clung to me, leftover from a day of sweating in the heat. The cicadas don’t seem to mind the muggy evening air; encompassing me, their cacophony of buzzing, four walls of interwoven sound. … Continue reading For What Comes Next – Short Story

Lost in Thought

James stared out the car window, drawing shapes on the condensation collecting inside. “Doin’ okay there, sport?” his father, in the driver’s seat next to him, asked. He liked to call James “sport” or “pal.” Even “kiddo.” It didn’t matter that James was twenty-seven and had lived alone for the better part of ten years. “Yeah, Dad. Doing okay,” James said, hovering between sarcasm and … Continue reading Lost in Thought

In the Light of the Infinite Sunset

“You’re looking for a painter? Beret and easel? How come?” Maggie asked, helping her grandmother bring in the groceries. “Your baby sister’s birthday is coming up, and since this is her first apartment, I figured it would be a nice touch,” Maggie’s grandmother, Arleen, responded as she held open the door with her foot for Maggie. “Nana. It’s going to be a den of drinking … Continue reading In the Light of the Infinite Sunset

Memories: where the sun sank below the waves

When I was younger, I asked my mom where the sun went when it sank. She told me that on the other side of the country there was a massive ocean. Even bigger than a pool? I had asked her. So much bigger, she told me. And blue, with waves as tall as trees. And each night, when I saw the sun get lower, it … Continue reading Memories: where the sun sank below the waves