Powerball for Drifters

Welp, my new story Powerball for Drifters is live over at the wonderful Lost Balloon. Am I excited? Si. Am I grateful to Chelsea Voulgares for giving my tale a lovely home? Si. Has Lost Balloon published some of the most respected and talented writers out there? Si. Did I start parting my hair on the right for some unknown reason? Si.

Seriously, I am so grateful to Chelsea for publishing my piece. I know it’s corny and I’ve said it before, but if I can overcome a self-sabotaged past and find a morsel of validation from the writing world, then it should offer hope to anyone who has struggled at any point in their life. It’s never too late to find yourself. It’s never too late to believe in yourself. It’s never too late to part your hair on the right like an aging hipster doofus.

You can read my story here

NFFD Micro Competition

 

The National Flash Fiction Day Micro Competition announced their longlist finalists today. Out of nearly 600 entries, I placed 2 stories in the top 27. Ridiculous. I’m speechless.

You were allowed to submit up to 3 stories under 100 words each. To make the 27 longlisted out of 600 entries is just…WOW. And twice? Damn. I needed some good news. This qualifies. The Top Ten and winner will be announced tomorrow, but I’m not even worried about that. Just to make it this far is more than enough for an insecure writer. Truly humbled. Sorry about the blabbing, I’m just so thrilled.

The official longlist is here

 

[Update: I did not make the Top Ten. But it was a wonderful experience and I’m so proud to have 2 stories that the judges thought highly of and placed on their longlist. A little disappointed? Absolutely. Moderately encouraged? Absolutely. I”m happy with my placement but I need to be a touch better in the future.]

 

 

Sun, Gun, Gone

 

The day has finally arrived. I’m so dang excited to have my story Sun, Gun, Gone published in the first issue of Rabble Lit. This new journal is the brainchild of a writer I’ve admired from afar, Anna Lea Jancewicz. If you write and read flash fiction, you know who she is and how ridiculously talented she is. This is not hyperbole. She’s on a different level. A huge thank you to Anna, Claire Hopple, and the rest of the staff for including my story. Rabble Lit focuses on working class people and diversity, something I can certainly relate to. It’s a genre that tends to be ignored by the online writing world.

I tried to step out of my comfort zone with this piece. I hope you enjoy it. Either way, read the entire issue. It’s literally overflowing with phenomenal writers. For real.

You can read my story here

 

 

Eaters of Fire

My story Eaters of Fire is live over at the wonderful Fictive Dream. It was truly a pleasure working the editor, Laura Black. A couple of months ago she sent me a file of images to choose from to pair with my tale. And sent another one closer to publication day just in case I thought it would be a better match. I stuck with the current image on the site, but it was refreshing to be included in the process. And rare. A lovely experience from beginning to end.

You can read my story here

 

 

Nobody Can Touch You

 

The world behind a twist of brass

More theoretical than empirical but still a world

Faceless and spineless and relentless

Pumping gas in a daydream

Buying bottled water with fashionable plastic

Two hands strangling the steering wheel

One mind searching the windshield

For strange

For answers

For a pulse on concrete

Strolling across damp sidewalks in neon shoes

Snapping photos of sparrows and tulips and nothing

Cigarette from hand to mouth to crushed underfoot

Cheap body spray stains every thought

Lipstick red like an open vein

His name sleeps on swollen tongues

Her name is a tumor, a rumor, a panic attack

Green light, caution light, funeral night

Slow down

Way down

Crawl back to the vanilla box

Brew a pot of bitter coffee

Toss worthless skin on the bedroom floor

Remember the percussion of need

The taunt of beautiful storms

The whirlpool of anxiety in your belly

The rancid scent of loss and longing

Because the world is a sexy, selfish grifter

A flirtatious carnival barker

Stay terrified and immune

Stay detached and incomplete

Latch the door, shatter the lamps

Nobody can fucking touch you now

 

 

 

Forthcoming Vanity

 

I thought about exploring my recent obsessions with this post. These include: Buying jeans online, buying skin care products online, searching for casual cotton trousers for the spring season online, and using Amazon Prime as a remedy for heartache. And Saverne artisanal craft beer kraut. Seriously, the most delectable thing I’ve had in my mouth since, well, nevermind. Time for the Wellbutrin.

Instead, this will be a quick post about my writing. I just wanted to mention some upcoming publications for my flash fiction. All four should be out in the near future, probably April and May. Or maybe one in March. I’m not sure; my memory is awful.

She Gave Him Violence – Easy Street Magazine

Eaters of Fire ——– Fictive Dream

Powerball for Drifters — Lost Balloon

Sun, Gun, Gone ——-Rabble Lit 

I’m pretty stoked about all of them. The last two are brand new journals with a murderers’ row of writers lined up. I’m a bit intimidated, to be honest. But I’m also proud and grateful. If an uneducated hack like me can get published by respected journals, anybody can.

Keep writing. Keep submitting. Keep persevering.

Keep wearing sweatpants?

Keep overusing the word keep.

Let your stories and poems speak louder than the rampant misogyny, racism, homophobia, and xenophobia that pollutes our digital world. Build a wall made of imagination, observation, and prose. Don’t ban Muslims, ban all the cowardly bigots who spew hate behind false names on social media. Let your art be the orchid in a mud puddle. If not art, use your voice. Silence is perpetual indifference.

Keep wearing sweatpants?