Spitball Army

from Windblown World: The Journals of Jack Kerouac 1947-1954: Thank you, dear Lord, for the work You have given me, the which, barring angels on earth, I dedicate to Thee; and slave on it for Thee, and shape from chaos and nothingness in Thy name, and give my breath to it for Thee; thank you […]

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RIP William Windom, who led me to read James Thurber, which inspired me to write a story for my Sophomore English class which received a 0.

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In New Mexico, writers drink Negra Modelo. In Mississippi, writers wear seer sucker suits. In Montana, writers go fly fishing.

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Tom Wolfe’s pocket square / Mark Twain’s ice cream suit / Ernest Hemingway’s rifle

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Here is a short piece of mine that was recently published at Postcard Shorts (“As much as you could more or less fit on a postcard,” according to the online journal’s submissions guidelines.).

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This piece was published in 100 Word Story’s August edition, though the online journal printed the initially-submitted draft.

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Approximate playing time: 80 minutes.

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Approximate playing time: 47 minutes.

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Can you get an idea about what is happening in this work-in-progress by reading its word cloud?

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I remember reading this letter when I first received it in my inbox three years ago. Everything in the room went silent then, as if in the thrall of some cinematic effect, and my focus was completely on the text.

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