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Dreamland

Dreamland

Dreamland. That’s what they call our state now. It’s a fitting name. I’m dictating this from my Dreamland cocoon. It’s a plastic shell, my home, and I never have to leave it. I’m not sure why I’d even want to. Everything I need or desire is here, or it comes to me here. I just have to say the words, and my electronic servant finds it, activates it, brings it, provides it, or has it procured and brought to me….

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Don’t Try Any of This – Chapter 6

Don’t Try Any of This – Chapter 6

It’s been too long since I posted on this blog, and there are reasons for that, but I want to put something up worth reading. And here it is. Don’t Try Any of This is the second volume in the Little Rosie series. I currently am seeking an agent and publisher to represent the novel. Here is Chapter 6 drawn from the book. Additional chapters are posted at the link above. The book is complete, but I may post more…

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Writers, Damned Writers, and Statistics: The 2018 AWP Conference by the Numbers

Writers, Damned Writers, and Statistics: The 2018 AWP Conference by the Numbers

The closer you are to something the more you may be inclined to stay away from it. Some relationships are like that, including the relationship writers have with their craft and creativity. That sums up, to a large extent, why I vacillated about attending the annual conference of the Association of Writers and Writing Programs (AWP) held last week in Tampa, Fla., which is right here in my neck of the woods. Other writers might understand my reticence to attend,…

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Fear, Loathing, and a Panic Attack in the Tobacco Warehouse

Fear, Loathing, and a Panic Attack in the Tobacco Warehouse

This story is written as a stand-alone short story, but it may eventually wind up in the Growing Up New Jersey collection, a series of vignettes slouching their way into becoming a book. See more vignettes in this collection at the Short Stories &c. link above. We were getting around Kentucky, the Blue Grass State, that particular June. Coming from New Jersey, I had never been to Kentucky before. But my girlfriend back then, who we’ll call Anne mainly because…

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That’s Illegal, Isn’t It?

That’s Illegal, Isn’t It?

A short imaginary conversation. “That’s illegal, isn’t it?” she asked from across the little folding table. “Yeah, so? If I worried about everything that’s illegal I wouldn’t have any time left.” “Well, doesn’t the law exist to protect people?” “You’re kidding, right?” “No. I don’t think so. You mean it doesn’t?” “Hey, look, to the extent I obey the law I stay out of fucking trouble. But a bunch of laws are screwy, or way off the mark. And, no,…

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