Tag: flash fiction

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This dystopian micro first appeared in Ghost Parachute. I love dystopian literature, and have plans for a longer dystopian work in future. What especially fascinates me is what remains—how we try to hold onto culture and stories and how we might incorporate some of the best of our past into a grim, new future. In this story, makeup has taken on a deeper significance. It might be war paint. It certainly is a distinguishing part of the narrator’s life and her people’s. I refer to Van Gogh, O’Keefe, and other works of art and painting techniques. I see them as surviving the unnamed, undefined apocalyptic event, and being incorporated in a personal way in the lives of the survivors who wear the makeup. The story hints at some sort of computer or digital cataclysm, caused by other survivors who continue to live in the cities while our narrator and her people skulk around the edges.

It’s an atmospheric story, and I hope you find it unsettling. My first draft was actually meant to be lighthearted! I got the initial breath of the story while walking to a nearby creek. I was wearing a t-shirt I didn’t particularly like. I was thinking to myself, “Wouldn’t that just figure if something cataclysmic occurred and here I am wearing a shirt I don’t even like when I have a closetful of t-shirts I do like?” I wrote a first draft of this story about a character who really was bothered by the fact she was wearing an ugly shirt and couldn’t easily find something else to wear. This character was extra annoyed at the preppers, as she called them (they weren’t, necessarily) who “thought they were so cool in their camo.” It’s an okay draft, but it wasn’t getting where I wanted to go.

So I decided to try makeup. Would someone care about wearing makeup post-apocalypse? If so, why? And what would it mean?

As I worked on the story and found its voice, I tapped into the uneasiness so many of us are feeling as we see how much of our lives are dependent on technology most of us barely understand. Though the story doesn’t state this explicitly, I was thinking, too, of how easy our digital world has made surveillance and censorship, and how the algorithm contributes to a particularly virulent tribalism of us-against-them.

I filmed at the Kaskaskia River Spillway Recreation Area. In Southern Illinois, where I live, lake spillways are often more natural. I mean, of course they have a dam. But the water flows into a small river or a creek that is often rocky and forested. When the water is flowing, it’s whitewater beauty. I expected something similar here. I forgot how much bigger the Kaskaskia River is than the little rivers our smaller lakes empty into. At first I was disappointed by how much more industrial it all looked. Then I realized it was perfect for this story of liminal areas, between civilization and wilderness.

I should note that the story refers to water pollution. The scene that goes with it in this video isn’t an example of pollution, really. It’s an overflow from a creek that flows under a sidewalk through a culvert into the river. Just water.

I hope you enjoy!

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After the amazing Scarelastic Book Fair, I got up early for a morning hike at Fort Harrison State Park near Indianapolis before heading for home. I chose the Fall Creek Trail—good choice! I love running water, and a walk through the woods is always good for the soul.

I tried something different with the video. Since the trail was relatively smooth and level, I tried reading while walking. And filming—three things at once! Woo. I got a bit out of breath toward the end!

When I first started writing this story—from word prompts—I intended it to go a whole other way. I was thinking more Yellow Wallpaper-vibe but told from the antagonist’s point of view. The story did not go that way at all. The characters really took it over and set me straight about what was really happening. I’m satisfied!

I hope you enjoy!

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I just had a wonderful weekend! It started with heavy fog and me driving my least favorite freeway—I-57—and the fog didn’t lift until I was almost to Indiana.

I attended the Scarelastic Book Fair at Scarlet Lane Brewing Company in McCordsville, hosted by author and master brewer Josh Hull. What a great time! A horror-themed brewery, many favorite authors, spent way too much on books (including one I now have two of, both signed…how could I forget??)

Above is most of what I bought. I snagged a few more right before I left. Pretty much my book budget for the year. Well… I mean…. not really. But…

I should mention the beer at Scarlet Lane is fantastic. Highly recommend—the brewery is absolutely worth a visit all on its own.

I spent the night at Fort Harrison State Park Inn, a cool old hotel. It was so quiet I was briefly convinced I was the only guest. I had dinner and a couple more fantastic brews at Triton Brewing Company. And of course, had to have a book with me, since I bought so many good ones. This is Laurel Hightower’s Every Woman Knows This and I can’t wait to dig into it! That beer is their Strawberry Hometown Hero Ale. Isn’t it pretty?

Then up early in the morning to hike the Fall Creek Trail in the state park. I didn’t make those cairns, someone else’s handiwork. But I enjoyed. That’s Fall Creek. Hence the trail name. 🙂

I stopped off in Bloomington, IN for lunch because I wanted to see the town, and also go home a different way. Great lunch. Did a quick read from Quick Adjustments by Robert Scotellaro. I read Interpreter of Dreams, one of my favorites from that great new collection. It’s on my Instagram if you want to check it out.

And then I managed to add almost an hour to my drive time—oops!—by going all the way south to Kentucky before going west towards home. S’ok, it was rural scenery I would not have seen otherwise.

Got home to find that my husband has written a new song that’s pretty kick-ass heartbreaking. So we both had a productive weekend! I hope yours was fantastic too!

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Somewhere I heard the expression “teaching the dead to talk with us.” I don’t think, really, that’s quite what was said. I don’t know that “the dead” were involved at all. But the minute I thought it, I knew I had a story.

I’ve been watching shark videos and reels in the way many people watch funny cats or goats in pajamas. I see people who are shark experts swimming with sharks. I admire them.

And I wonder if there are consequences to messing with the order of things.

I don’t have the answers. Just a story. Here it is.

This story first appeared in Feed Lit Magazine.

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First, I declare I will be more active in posting my published stories here. Most of them are listed in the Recent Publications section, but I will put them here now, too.

This one came in a round-about way from a writing group with friends, as many of my stories do. Remember: It’s fiction!! (Although I have stayed in many a Super 8.)

Thanks for reading!

Preparing to Tell My Parents about My Pending Divorce

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No secret that I love fairytales and folklore. Different cultures bring different flavor. In Irish fairy and folk tales, you’ll find a grimly manic humor in the darker stories. A common thread that comes all the way from the epics through the fairy stories is the concept of lost time. While you are in the thrall of the ghost or in the fairy glamour, time marches on and you are outside it. When you return to your senses, you will find the world has changed—maybe only fractionally—if you are lucky—but changed all the same. I had that idea in mind when I wrote this story.

Jinx. From Feed Literary Magazine

This one is published in Feed Literary Magazine, and I’m so grateful to them for giving two of my micros a home in the same issue!

The video is from the end of September, 2023. I was on my way from Archon, a sci-fi fantasy convention held in Collinsville, Illinois (home of the world’s largest catsup bottle) to the Grubville Opry, a listening room in Dittmer, Missouri, to hear my songwriter husband, Tim Crosby, play. I was at Archon for the first time because Jonathan Maberry was there. He’s a writing hero of mine. He’s incredibly talented, and staggeringly prolific. He’s got a great work ethic to match his talent, and he’s super cool to his fans. I had a great time at Archon. A fantastic group of people—friendly, creative, supportive of each other… the kind of people you hope you find at a convention when you know no one when you show up.

I filmed the reading alongside the Meramec River in Missouri. I stopped at the Minnie Ha Ha Park in Sunset Hills, Missouri to take a walking break. It turned into a filming break. There’s a little bit of background noise—it’s a popular park! The crow, pileated woodpecker, and black snake clips are from Coyote Creek (my backyard).

I hope you enjoy!

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My writing comfort zone is flash fiction. It’s where I found my voice. And my first writing community. The process of writing a novel is vastly different from flash. I really love both processes. Writing this novel makes me appreciate the freedom of flash, and renews my respect for the creative process that happens there.

I approached the novel methodically. Or so I thought. I had a multi-page annotated outline to guide me. As it turns out, I hadn’t planned and plotted nearly enough! About 2/3 of the way in, I realized I had not thoroughly considered some of the most important plot points—like, why do you have TWO ghosts? Also, if you want the reader to like your main character, maybe spend some time making her likeable?

With flash, I rarely have even a smidge of an idea when I sit down to write. I use random-word prompts or picture prompts. When I start writing, I don’t know where I’m going. It’s free-falling. Sometimes it works and the words soar. Sometimes it’s more of a crash and burn. But it’s exhilarating. Even the flailing around can sometimes produce a nugget of a story.

I’m friends with and know so many writers, I feel kinda precious being all excited about draft 1, novel 1. But, having gotten this far, I can say I’ve learned tons about my own processes. For me, flash is instinct followed by thinking. Novel-writing begins with thinking and is aided by instinct.

I’m excited to dive into the second draft. I plan to have it in hand by AuthorCon St. Louis.

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A horror trope I always love is when a person innocently or carelessly breaks a rule they didn’t know about or thought didn’t exist. It’s scariest when they realize, after it’s too late, what has happened, and then try to save themselves, right the wrong, or appease the monster.

This story, “A Fine Trade,” from a trio of my stories that appeared in Parhelion Literary Magazine, Halloween issue 2022, explores that trope—though the tone is more dark humor than horror.

The reading is on Devil’s Kitchen Lake in Southern Illinois, the Goth lake of the area. It’s a flooded valley, and a tree graveyard. Other footage is from the Seven Bridges Natural Area in Rapid River, Michigan.
And here’s what’s really cool—I didn’t throw my phone overboard this time!
Enjoy. Read horror. Read flash fiction too.

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In light of my recent adventure, I feel compelled to point out that the story in this reading is fiction. It’s not based on any of the stories I told myself about my birth parents as I was growing up, or as a young woman, or even recently. The story is from a writing prompt, and I allowed myself to be silly. Sillier than usual, that is.

But wait, what recent adventure? you ask. Oh, friends. Big adventure.

I shall have more to say about it later. For now, let me say simply: I met my family. My birth family. My biological family. The people whose genes I share, the people I look like, walk like, laugh like, and am like in some very important ways.

The additional footage in this reading is all of Lake Michigan, but it’s from both the east and west shores. From Sheboygan, Wisconsin, where I spent some time with my sister on my father’s side, and with my amazing nieces and even grand-nieces, and with my brother-in-law. These are some strong women, and artistic, and kind, and my sister is possibly worse than I am about making a beeline across a parking lot or beach to pet a dog.

There are also scenes from Escanaba and Manistique in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. We drove north from Sheboygan, through the bottom of the U.P., over the Mackinac Bridge, and into Up North Michigan to meet for the first time my siblings on my mother’s side, and to visit with a cousin on that side I’d met previously.

So much talking and laughing! So many stories! And questions, some of which even were answered—on all sides. I met two brothers and two sisters, and have one brother yet to meet.

I’m still processing it all. But I do know I am blessed. Adoption stories are complicated, and emotional, and often involve secrecy and mystery and half-truths. The investigation is an emotional rollercoaster. In my case, it’s truly a blessing. I’m grateful.

So for now, please enjoy this story. It first appeared in Third Point Press, and was anthologized in Best Microfiction 2020.