Write what you love

Let me tell you a secret. I want to be Stephen King.

[Warning: This post is animated GIF-free.]

Okay, I don’t actually want to be Stephen King. I don’t want coke-bottle glasses and I don’t want to live in Maine, nice as it is in July. I’m also happy being a few decades younger than King is.

But I’d still like to write like the man writes.

Here’s the thing. I’m not Stephen King. (apologies for the rhyme — it’s not my fault his surname rhymes with ‘thing’)

I’m just me. Christina, Tine, that chick from Somewhere in the American South, or whatever I happen to call myself on Friday evenings.

Take-home message? Sure, I have one. It tastes like “write what you love,” not what you want to/pretend to/hope to love. Read more

Good News and Bad News

Sniff.

The good news first: I and some of my favourite flash fiction writers are now for sale on Amazon.com. Check out The Molotov Cocktail: Prize Winners Anthology for details. There’s some fantastic work in here by fellow writers Sylvia Heike, Aeryn Rudel, Fred Senese, and others.

Shiny-new dead-tree format!
Shiny-new dead-tree format!

The bad news second:

Saturday Night Reader, the magazine that published my humourous piece “Debt,” is closing its doors. It’s going to be a SAD-urday Night.

Sniff.
Sniff.

Why I Won’t Give my Flash Away

I’ve been having a good run so far, averaging about one publication a month in the world of flash fiction. As expected, a few people have asked if they can read it. When they do (and it doesn’t happen often), I point them to my list of publications.

[Warning: all animated GIFs in this post have been replaced with sarcasm.]

Sometimes I get reactions like this:

My web browser is having problems. Email me that piece and I’ll read it.

Sincerely,
The Dipshit

Or this:

But I don’t want to create a free account on Platform for Prose. Can’t you just send your story to me?

Cheers,
Your Lazy-ass Pal

Or even this:

What? I have to buy a subscription to Saturday Night Reader to read your stuff? No way. Send me the PDF.

Later,
The Cheapskate

My response?

Dear Dipshit, Lazy-ass Pal, and Cheapskate,

I regret to inform you I will not be sending along my writing for your reading pleasure. Please find my reasons below.

A) Since you can’t figure out how to navigate a website, you probably won’t figure out how to navigate my story.

B) If it’s too much trouble for you to set up a free account, I fear that reading a two-page bit of flash might do you serious damage.

C) When the nice folks at Publication X pay me cold, hard cash for my writing, what makes you think I’m going to cheat them out of their well-deserved income?

That is all,
Moi

Bottom line? I work hard to put my writing out there, and the people who accept it work hard reading, editing, formatting, and publishing. They deserve their web traffic and, when applicable, their subscription income.

Thanks for understanding.

The (Bitter)sweet smell of success

Struffoli

StruffoliActually, it’s very sweet. Dripping-with-honey-and-sprinkled-with-rainbow-coloured-non-pareils kind of sweet:

My flash fiction memoir “The Honey Clusters” won an honorable mention in the 2015 Bethlehem Writers Roundtable Short Story Award and will be featured in their Nov/Dec 2015 issue!

The bittersweet part is in the content of the story. I wrote it shortly after this past Christmas while I still had a small plate of the traditional Italian treat called struffoli (honey clusters) remaining on the kitchen counter.

They don’t last long. They never do. Read more