A Spud-Like Short Story

Because sometimes, you just have to write a noir scene about a detective and potatoes... ********** I pressed the red circular button on my small audio recording device, set it down on the detective’s desk, and looked up at him. The street lights outside were mostly blocked by the drawn shades in his dank charcoal-grey office, and a slow trail of cigarette smoke was curling it’s way from his bandaged left hand, past his square jaw, until it finally stretched out and blanketed across the paint-peeled tin ceiling above us. Private Detective Poe Tatum looked as if though he’d been run over by a delivery truck with an Idaho license plate. Twice. He brought his bandaged hand to his mouth and took a long drag…

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Broken Feral Writing Guy

I have managed to crawl out of my hole from time to time to catch glimpses of the real world, but for the most part I've been spending my time either working, or working, or doing kid stuff, or decompressing from all of the working and kid stuff going on. Oh, and there was this: Which, underneath all that purple fleshy stuff, looks like this: Which honestly isn't all that great for trying to fly through typing and shove down 1200 words or so every couple of days. Crushed middle knuckle (dominant hand) aside, I have been getting some writing done on the Big Damn Book, which is lovely, but it has been difficult to get quality steady writing time in with all of the…

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Writing at 4AM. Dear God, Why?

Because I was awake, that's why. I have noticed a pattern in regards to my behavior - particularly sleeping patterns - as I've aged just a little.  I'm waking up earlier and earlier, regardless of the time I actually get to bed. And when I do get to bed, sometimes I'm asleep just before my head hits the pillow, sometimes I toss and turn for hours, doing that thing where your leg is outside the covers (too cold) then inside the covers (too hot) so you kind of try for middle ground of like, outside but just with a sheet covering (too light and annoying), so then maybe a pair of pajama pants but still outside and no sheet (uncomfortable), and basically it's hell in…

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Eliminate Stresses or Writing Through Them?

Our day to day lives are typically filled with numerous stresses. Bills, work, kids setting things on fire (only happened twice today - PARENT OF THE YEAR). Thing is, I'm the type that needs near perfect circumstances to sit down and write. If some little nose-picking homonculus is begging me for food every two seconds (I fed you last week, HAVEN'T I SUFFERED ENOUGH?) it is very hard to get into the groove and let the creative wild horses run free. So I patiently wait, try to scrawl some notes if something pops into my head, and do my primary duty of being a servant to the world in the meantime. What really rains on the proverbial parade is when drama rears it's ugly head.…

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