Well here we are at week 284.
Diane’s answer to the first of Leila’s questions on the Re-Run got me thinking.
How much do we understand our characters?
Category: Short Fiction
Air Guitar Eddy by Richard Leise
Because we didn’t know his name, and he played air guitar outside Family Dollar, we called him Air Guitar Eddy. He had two dogs. We called the pit bull Pitbull, and the other, a terrier, Funky Bitch. Funky Bitch was pregnant, bursting at the seams, and she would sit and pant in the shade. Because it was Family Dollar, Air Guitar Eddy, Pitbull, and Funky Bitch didn’t get much by way of charity.
The Stillness of a Garden Broken by Marco Etheridge
Jakob Pichler cherishes his quiet mornings and the green stillness of his garden. His neighbors have gone off to their day jobs, leaving him in peace. The only traffic that passes the garden gate is the occasional old woman walking a tiny dog. Jakob lights his morning cigar, settles back, and lets his mind wander over the infinite possibilities the morning offers.
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Gary Glitter And The Camel Hair Coat by Hugh Cron Warning- Adult Content
Lee and Harry stood outside their manager’s office. She glowered at them. The music from the communal room was deafening.
“Jesus fuck! Am I not in enough trouble? That’s all I need, Tom and his Gary Glitter infatuation!”
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Literally Reruns – Stumpy by Diane M Dickson
Lovely Leila has chosen one from my back catalogue for a rerun. It’s a bit sad and brutal but – there ya go. This is what she said:
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Week 283 – Diane knows that Mambo Isn’t Just Music, A Superhero’s Gongie And Where’s The Portal, For So Many Reasons.
Here we are at Week 283.
I’m hoping Diane adds a wee bit into this.
I thought this week that I’d tell you a bit about how I read the submissions.
Using my eyes is a good start. I tried with my ears but that was just shite.
Do Not Go Gentle by Tom Burton
Sunlight slices through the window bars, splashing over your face. I will carry this piecemeal image – eyes scrunched shut, your late father’s nose, pink lips suckling – with me to the hangman’s noose.
The Viaduct by Hugh Cron – Warning – Strong Language
Fergie left early again. He was fed up with the self-acclaimed King Of The Pub. He was a cunt. He was a pumped up insignificant prick who walked about as if he’d shit himself. And the clothes, fuck the boy thought he was a gangster rapper, he was nothing more than a nipple-end with some ‘roid rage.
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Week 282 – Genre Before Character Or Plot, An Asterix For Adam And Irony From Not Being There
Maybe it’s just me and my limitations but I was wondering how many writers choose a genre before they start to write?
The World From This High by Andrew Jason Jacono
The World From This High
The stars are out chittering over the water and the bridge is cold on the backs of my thighs and for the last three years He The One has been jabbering in my head telling me to jump. I haven’t listened to Him until now, I’ve been strong and I’ve resisted, but there comes a point when you just can’t take it anymore and you give in and so here I am. I’m not happy about it but at least when I jump They’ll stop beaming all those messages into my head and They won’t be able to torture me anymore.
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