Continuing with my Creative Writing Prompts, here’s today’s effort. A couple of notes here before you jump in: The prompt for midday was Your pet dragon has been misbehaving. I moved “Bart” and family into the future and kept his parents married past his seventh birthday. Note, again, as this is a work of fiction, my mother is/was not a coffee addict…at least not to the point of getting grouchy in the morning if she didn’t have a cup. Beyond that, enjoy! Continue reading “Fiction Experiment: French Roast”
In an effort to get some practice, experience, and confidence with my fiction writing, I purchased A Year of Creative Writing Prompts. Below is one of my attempts from today’s assignments. They provide a five-minute exercise, a mid-day exercise, and a dinner time exercise. I decided to kick these out all at once, just to get rolling. Will post these as I think the warrant sharing. The trick for me will be to insist on the discipline of daily writing, even if it’s someone else’s assignment. Continue reading “Fiction Experiment: Garga Seeks Treasure”
It starts placidly enough:
A couple ice crystals of thought
bumping into each other like
inconveniently colliding as they make their way
purposefully through the universe.
The collisions create energy, though.
The atoms collide with others,
inconveniencing their fellows
up and down the cloud.
The ice itself grows thicker,
billowing into a floating, bloated mountain,
feeding on the heat and energy below.
The collisions keep coming,
bringing the moving mass out of balance
with the rest of the world.
Abruptly the atoms achieve critical mass,
crackling with an energy all their own.
No force can stop it,
no logic will deny it;
the wavering electrons must go somewhere.
In a moment, they discharge their fury,
unleashing their destructive force
on the nearest, most prominent target.
With the speed of light
and the righteous power of the gods,
they smite their target, blasting through water, air,
The place where the atoms strike is charred,
a smoldering, blackened ruin
where once there had been innocent peace.
The storm passes,
the atoms of thought no longer colliding or inconvenienced.
But the damage has been done.
An ashen hole in the ground marks the thunderbolt’s passage,
eventually to be covered by forgetful grass and weather and time.
But the damage has been done.
He’s not quite sure what normal’s like
But he thought he would give it a try
The quest to be healthy is quite a hike
When he’s used to just getting by
But he’s exorcising the various demons
Clearing out his multiple neuroses
And trying to acquire a free man’s
Life without pills or doctors’ diagnoses
He’s learned a few things pushing fifty
It’s really about time that he did so
Being a happy, healthy guy could be nifty
It’s never too late to settle down and grow
This entry is a little long, so the short version is this: the people–especially the bullies–we encounter in our youth can greatly affect our confidence and our thinking years after we are free of them. I’ve had enough of that sort of foolishness, and this is my long-delayed, Declaration of Independence: I’ve had enough of you, and you are no longer going to live rent-free in my head. Continue reading “Declaration of Independence”
From time to time I mention that I have written or am writing fiction (usually of the science fictional variety), yet I never have said works published. One might wonder, if I have some skill as a writer, why I have not tried to get my work into print for others to see. I had cause to examine that very question this week. I’ll share some of those thoughts now. Continue reading “Why I Write Fiction”
Currently reading What I Know Now: Letters to My Younger Self as part of my nonfiction book’s competitive research. The book is on my list because my blog has been a lot of advice I wish I’d gotten when I was a younger person (and, ideally, been willing to listen). The letter I’m writing here is for a much younger Bart, the kid who hit rock-bottom emotionally when he was 12 or 13 years old and wanted to die rather than go back to school and face his peers. Continue reading “Letter to My Younger Self”
A long time ago, I had a friend who was into films big-time–she was a film and videography major, in fact–and it was a pleasure to talk with her about movies because we had similar tastes and appreciated filmmaking from very different perspectives. I really wish we were still friends sometimes because I’d love to pick her brain about Blade Runner 2049, a sequel to a film we both loved. Continue reading “Old Friends and Movie Reviews”
I’m a few days late posting this, but it’s taken me awhile to conjure up some words to reflect my latest orbit around the sun. Partly it’s because I thought of myself as 48 a few months back. Still, I think it’s good to take my mental/emotional temperature to see how I’m doing and sort things out in literary form. Enjoy (or not) as you see fit. Continue reading “48”
So here’s the problem with paranoia about your fellow human beings: you end up losing your voice. First you learn not to be an jerk—probably a good idea, especially if you become aware that a lot of what you’re saying offends or hurts people. Then you start worrying about giving offense of any kind. You start refraining from giving your honest opinions about the important matters of the day because you are only too well aware that you are in a minority or that some of your opinions are unpopular with a large chunk of your associates. You can’t be seen as too much of a partisan one way or the other or you risk getting kicked in the wallet when someone decides you’re “too controversial.”
If you’re an introvert, you dislike being the center of attention, and almost nothing in the current hot-house petri dish of politics gets you put in the media crosshairs quite like an unpopular opinion.
And let’s say you were bullied as a kid, so you’re quite aware of how human beings act if they dislike you or want to get you to shut up. Thugs appear, sometimes one on one, sometimes in pairs, sometimes in small groups, sometimes in mobs. They come with fists and weapons and voices raised in hostility. They leave nasty or threatening messages or make crank calls that threaten the safety of yourself or people you care about. They follow you home and to places where you are known to frequent so that you never feel safe. On the worst occasions, they take action and beat the snot out of you, preferably in front of an audience so you are seen to be humiliated and beaten down by others.
That is becoming the real nature of human beings engaged in “political discourse.” And if you wonder why the “voices of reason” are silent or ignored, it’s often because they’ve decided the exercise of freedom is not worth attracting the attention of the mob. So, congratulations, Humanity: the best in us is often destroyed by the worst in us because no one enjoys being alone in the face of the mob.
Maybe any thoughts you have aren’t the best that humanity has to offer; but they’re still yours. The “obvious price of expressing your opinion” need not be violence. Disagreement, certainly. Criticism, of course. But disagreement and criticism are not enough anymore. Any opinion that doesn’t ring true with the prevailing cultural orthodoxy must be shouted down; the characters of those speaking them must be impugned; their livelihoods must be cut off; their words must be suppressed with force. That is not what I was brought up to believe, but that’s where we are heading, and the gentle-souled introvert has obvious reason for concern just as much as the outspoken firebrand. How did it come to this?