Stories and Amateur Pasty-Crafting
Saturday evening, for the most part, is pizza night in the ol’ Purdy abode, and last weekend I must’ve ingested the right amount of cheese and peppers and green olives to make for one of most bizarre dreams I’ve ever experienced (that I can remember). I was staying in a mansion of the Xavier Institute … Continue reading Strange Dreams
I've also taken the time today to set up a Gumroad page as a landing spot of sorts for independently publishing and selling some of the stories I'm working on. The first piece is a just-a-hair-past-nano piece of short fiction, "Rests Like a Bastard Sword," from my Short as Fictober 2019 endeavor.
As much as I've read and watched on the game's conceit and design, I've tried to avoid narrative spoiler as much as possible. I know that you play a detective who can't remember who he is, but is tasked with solving a murder. You traverse a fictional world (with over 6,000 years of history), interviewing all sorts of folks, and the choices for both words and deeds are vast, and determine the type of person you are/become.
Last Tuesday, The Forever Sea was published by DAW books, and while I'm not too far into yet, I'm absolutely enjoying the hell out of it.
I really can't speak highly enough of the transformative power of the program, its faculty, and its students on the life of a writer. I know that mine is but one story in the larger tale of Augsburg's Creative Writing MFA program, and that many students could and most likely will share similar experiences. It's my hope that you would take these into consideration and reconsider your decision to cut the program.
Her piece "A Message About Messages" offers a pointed and humorous rebuttal (of which only Le Guin was capable of) to those who insist on strangling messages out of the fiction they read
Evening and huzzah, goda människor, from a basement out here in central Minnesota. I hope this missive finds you all safe, sound, hearty, and hale. Nearly bedtime around these parts, but I wanted to hop and post something before hitting the rack.
It's been a week since Halloween, a week since the end of October, a week since the culmination of Short As Fictober, my self-imposed, month-long writing journey. I haven't written much of anything since then, but I have had a moment to reflect on the experience and make a plan of sorts.
Writing is a strange and giant beast, that I sometimes lose sight of the simple fact that it's supposed to be fun. I'm looking forward to what kinds of stories will happen over the next 31 days. Who's with me?
Because my car up and died shortly after moving to the Pacific Northwest, I'd ride my bike to and from work, which generally meant a commute home around one o'clock in the morning. On the ride, Berman's musical vehicle, The Silver Jews, would keep me company in my headphones.
Purdy Good 