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Today's Document
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pixel skylines
AnasAbdin
taylor price
#extradirty
d e v o n
art blog(derogatory)
macklin celebrini has autism
trying on a metaphor
Cosmic Funnies
titsay
styofa doing anything
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hello vonnie
occasionally subtle
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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@jamesclaffey
Tempus Fugit...
Tempus Fugit…
Spring break 2011. I was knee-deep in the final stages of editing my MFA thesis novel and we were driving around New Orleans visiting random cemeteries, looking for my wife’s grandfather’s grave. Relatives had given us the vaguest of directions as to where it might be located, but our search was the wildest of wild goose chases. Not sure if it was after we’d found the plaque, high up on a…
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Springbreaksday's Childe
Springbreaksday’s Childe
Books read this week: 2
Evacuations since Thomas Fire: 5
Papers to grade: 75
Inches of rain in last week: 4.75
Flash fiction written in 2018: 0
Leaks in roof: 1
Reviews written this year: 1
Pens in desk drawer: 20
Manuscripts to edit: 1
Submissions in-progress: 1
Copies of Blood a Cold Blue on-hand: 12
Hats in office: 3
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New kettle... this is what excites me today! (at Carpinteria, California)
New writing at Flash Frontier
My father records my transgressions in a large blue ledger with marbled edges. Dropped lumps of coal out of the scuttle whilst taking it to the living room fireplace. Punishment: Six slaps with the leather dog collar. Stealing money from Mam's purse. Punishment: Fifteen slaps with the leather dog collar. Staring out the window for no reason. Punishment: Banished to my room for the afternoon. From my bedroom window, Mrs. Prendergast clacks her way up the avenue at exactly half past five every evening on her way home from work. A glorious set of curtains twitch as disappointed husbands try to get a glimpse of her. I can't take my eyes off her stockings and the way the seams down the back of her legs are so perfect, leading directly to the Gates of Hell. She reaches her front door as I arrive at those burning gates and let out a stifled cry. Mam says she's a "brazen hussy," but the Old Man calls her "hot on her leather," which must mean something bad, because Mam slaps his hand when he
New writing...
View from the bluffs (at Carpinteria Bluffs and Beaches)
My father records my transgressions in a large blue ledger with marbled edges. Dropped lumps of coal out of the scuttle whilst taking it to the living room fireplace. Punishment: Six slaps with the leather dog collar. Stealing money from Mam’s purse. Punishment: Fifteen slaps with the leather dog collar. Staring out the window for no reason. Punishment: Banished to my room for the afternoon. From my bedroom window, Mrs. Prendergast clacks her way up the avenue at exactly half past five every evening on her way home from work. A glorious set of curtains twitch as disappointed husbands try to get a glimpse of her. I can’t take my eyes off her stockings and the way the seams down the back of her legs are so perfect, leading directly to the Gates of Hell. She reaches her front door as I arrive at those burning gates and let out a stifled cry. Mam says she’s a “brazen hussy,” but the Old Man calls her “hot on her leather,” which must mean something bad, because Mam slaps his hand when he
My father records my transgressions in a large blue ledger with marbled edges. Dropped lumps of coal out of the scuttle whilst taking it to the living room
Backtoworksday’s Childe Desks in room: 34 Students on largest class roster: 37 Plants in room: 1 Sofas in room: 0…
Editing the novel...
Pages written: 4 Unread books on desk: 3 Cups of coffee: 4 Dog walks: 1 Months off Facebook: 4 Word count in CNF Manuscript: 16,141 Word count in novel: 74,437 Days left of summer vacation: 6
Pain and Memory
http://blog.jamesclaffey.com/for-jeanne-leiby-on-this-the-fifth-anniversary-of-her-death/
New fiction
http://fictionsoutheast.org/i-hove-the-wreck/
Imponderable.
Restocked...
(things to do when you are feeling the Sunday Blues) Write prose poems Count the coyotes in the distance Draw the anchor from the seabed Take photos of plants in evening light Arrange the books on …
In this glass your eye looms like the Cyclops, huge and bleary, the red veins like those that stick out of the beheaded turkey at Christmas before Mam cleans it up for stuffing.
“In this glass your eye looms like the Cyclops, huge and bleary, the red veins like those that stick out of the beheaded turkey at Christmas before Mam cleans it up for stuffing.”
Today is the official launch day for the Queen's Ferry Press's anthology, Best Small Fictions 2015. I'm so excited to be included in the fifty-five stories, chosen by editor, Robert Olen Butler. The story I wrote, "The Third Time My Father Tried to Kill Me," was published originally by Mojave River Review. The anthology is stuffed to the gills with work from sensational fiction writers such as Stuart Dybek, Ron Carlson,and Bobbie Ann Mason, to name but a few. Two of my favorite stories are Naomi Telushkin's "Object," and Jeff Streeby's "El Paso: July."