Fiction in 58 (prose for ADD)
So, I’ve been looking at summer writing workshops.
I’m pretty much settled on the Iowa Summer Writing Festival in Iowa City. The Iowa sessions won’t be posted until February, which has given me pause to look at what else is out there. There’s Fishtrap in Oregon; there’s Nghtwriters in Healdsburg, Calif.; and there’s Bear River in Michigan. It just has to be a fiction workshop.
Anyway, I’ve been working on a longer piece – the kernel of which started in church of all places and has a bit of eroticism about it, and just so you know I’m going to Hell for it probably – but it’s not fully hatched. Next week, maybe.
Today, you get another exercise in Fiction in 58.
Lust, confidential
“It didn’t go well,” he said, thumb and index finger stroking his brow.
“Darling,” she said as she slid her hands around his and pulled them to her lap, “you know better.”
Her palm connects with his cheek; the concussion makes him blink.
“Dating isn’t for amateurs.”
“Thanks. Thank you.”
“No more young sales girls, you hear?”
“Promise.”
I’m pretty much settled on the Iowa Summer Writing Festival in Iowa City. The Iowa sessions won’t be posted until February, which has given me pause to look at what else is out there. There’s Fishtrap in Oregon; there’s Nghtwriters in Healdsburg, Calif.; and there’s Bear River in Michigan. It just has to be a fiction workshop.
Anyway, I’ve been working on a longer piece – the kernel of which started in church of all places and has a bit of eroticism about it, and just so you know I’m going to Hell for it probably – but it’s not fully hatched. Next week, maybe.
Today, you get another exercise in Fiction in 58.
Lust, confidential
“It didn’t go well,” he said, thumb and index finger stroking his brow.
“Darling,” she said as she slid her hands around his and pulled them to her lap, “you know better.”
Her palm connects with his cheek; the concussion makes him blink.
“Dating isn’t for amateurs.”
“Thanks. Thank you.”
“No more young sales girls, you hear?”
“Promise.”
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