Category: Telling Stories
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I don’t know how to calculate dog years, but I do know that 16 and a half human years is pretty damn old for a dog. That’s how old the family dog was when my mother texted me yesterday morning to say that Ginger had suffered a stroke in the night and my parents had…
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Dear Anonymous, I wanted to offer a public thank you. Your words were very sweet and demonstrated that we had connected at some point and you had retained some key personal details about me that I probably don’t even remember sharing. I don’t doubt your sincerity, but I am starting to second-guess my memory,…
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It usually starts with my stomach, which, owing to celiac, gets out of whack very easily anyway, making it difficult to identify I’ve eaten something bad from anxiety with a capital A. All those trips and vacations I thought I’d inadvertently ingested some gluten or all the times I felt gurgly and terrible sitting in…
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My parents have two dogs. The old one is lethargic and entitled, but the younger one is a survivor. She can left herself out of the house, do her business and then come back to the door and bark to be let in. She can use her paw to sweep food scraps from the counter…
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I received an avalanche of questions in response to this post, so we’ll pick away at the queries over time. First up: “When working on a project, how do you know when to stop?! I could go on editing forever. I’m never completely satisfied, I think I’m done, but then I wake up the next…
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“What are you thinking?” This was a game my travel partner and I played a hundred times last week. Late at night, over dinner, during long stretches of flat road, on the last few miles to our next destination. A close cousin to “Why are you looking at me like that?” The object is…
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I am good at hearing secrets. I am good at accepting them thoughtfully, like a present someone took a long time to choose. Holding them in my lap with both hands to make sure they don’t fall and break. It’s not very hard. I can teach you. In fact, it might be even easier than being…
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I knew Annie Passanisi and I were kindred spirits when she unveiled her plan for world domination and it involved trademarked t-shirts and kissing booths. I was delighted when she asked me to be a contributor to Whimsy for Wendys, her brand new e-book baby. As much as I alternately reject and grudgingly tolerate the…
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“What do you do?” “I’m a writer. Sorta.” She pivots toward me, pushes her wine glass out of the way. “No ‘sorta.’ You are or you aren’t. So, are you a writer?” “Yes, I’m a writer.” “Good girl.” And she is an actress. A blonde actress from Iceland who stars in indie theatre and works…
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You may have noticed there have been more stories (I call ’em flash fiction because that’s about the length of my attention span) on the blog in recent months. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Maybe these stories will all come together in a cohesive end product or maybe only a few of them will,…
Generation Meh 