Short Fiction

I am not my characters!!!!

I’m going to tattoo this on my backside. Or maybe I’ll have a character tattoo this on their backside. Spring is changing the world again. Bees are running amok and those attention hogs, flowers, are waving in the breeze saying look at me, look at me. Oh, and I have two stories out this season, one on-line and one print journal.

Click the link below for a story, Teeth, in Frigg Magazine. It’s got dentists and sharks and massage parlors and a giant neon shrimp.

Teeth in Frigg Magazine

Clink the link below to read, A Day at the Beach. It has margaritas and a sea monster in it.

A Day at the Beach in Zone 3




Rum Monkey

If you like monkeys and rum, you might like this story.

Here’s a link to the BBC footage that inspired the story.  The moral of this story is keep an eye on your booze.

New Story up at Literary Orphans

You always wonder how much people will read you into whatever you write. This story is titled, Father’s Day. I feel the need to write this note because my father is nothing like the father in the story. He did teach me how to play baseball, and he went to my games but he didn’t display any of the other behaviors in the story. He didn’t and doesn’t drink excessively. At least not around me.  We have been to Lookout Mountain. I highly recommend it unless you are afraid of Gnomes. But if you are afraid of Gnomes and want the ultimate place to face your fears, you can do it inside a cave and on a mountain top there.  I’m deflecting here. The bartender is a composite of several women that I didn’t actually know. I have known stale pretzels in bars. The pretzels are based on actual pretzels. Rereading the story, I wish I had added some detail about whether they were the kind of pretzels that make a knot or whether they were straight. It makes a difference. They were knots, and they did have salt. Still deflecting. What do I share with this character? I do like whiskey. I’m not above drinking it from coffee cups. I did play some third base in little league. But the rest of it? Nothing like me. And if you do sniff out a resemblance, pretend that you don’t. Writers depend on the friends that read their work to employ that  polite fiction. Otherwise, it would be madness to write at all.

Here’s the link: