January 10, 2015
Sudden Fiction is like a “quick” draw contest: prompt > draw > fire.. It’s all over in nine hundred and ninety nine words or less. This ain’t no time to choke there hombre. Like the sun at high noon, your mouth goes dry, and it’s time to show what-your-made-of; after all, isn’t that what people like us like to do … write.
Sudden Fiction projects from my pen using as a mode of creativeness: the objective correlative. or some such. As much as I love and use adverbs, and adjectives to color my long verse; the metaphor fills my needs so much the better in this genre of sun baked dust and cordite.
I’ve always liked this following piece I put together some time ago. It just kind of rolls down-hill and ends on an emotional step.
Dead at High Noon
by: G.K. Brannen
Cordite filled the air;
twas in my nostrils, twas in my eyes,
twisted left, twisted right
Cordite filled the air
Poncho was fast,
faster’n I ever seen.
Poncho was quick,
quicker’n I ever been.
The gun jumped this away,
my finger stroked the trigger.
Muh arm numbed right away;
the air got stiller.
The middle of the
street. Blood-guts “n”
gore. Dog howl, hoot-owl
The breeze reeked of
spent-powder, deadly as
we go. Everth’n that
was dead at high-noon.
Writing “flash or sudden” fiction has just kind of rolled on me like a soft tide. I’m in the process of longer short story writing and, of course, academia writing; thus I need a mental break, and short poetic/non-poetic, rhyme and non-rhyme prose allows that relief to the psyche: bless our craniums anyway.
I’m sure I missed something I wanted to say … it’ll come to me.
January 3, 2015
When I was but a wee child enrolled in a small, rural schoolhouse, we had a book mobile that would visit , if I recall rightly, once every week or maybe two. I remember when the book-mobile was scheduled, recess was immediately called, and the whole of the student population (all 23 or so of us along with the one schoolmarm) would be allowed to plunder the book rows seeking a literary adventure.
That was the spark!
The fire has never been extinguished.
My book titles have grown up a bit; I’ve moved from Uncle Arthur’s “Bedtime Stories” > J.R.R. Tolkien >Justin Torres’ “We The Animals,” and everywhere in between.. Signifcant is my passion for the authors of the Romantic & Modernistic Era’s.
So, you may ask, what the heck has this got to do with anything.
I would like to think that the youth of Generation “Z” will suffer the same passions as I.
Look at the commercials: cell-phones for 8 year olds …. really? On the bright side: there is an app for book downlods, audio books, and more information on the WEB then all the hardback “Encyclopedias” I could have ever purchased. All my books that I have retained, possessed, given-away, thrown- away, and thought of, but never obtained, can now be held in the palm of my hand. I must say – that is impressive..
I do have to admit: it just doesn’t sound the same … about “snuggling up with a good ipad.”
It’s a brave new world out there.
Happie New Year Everyone!
December 28, 2014
Writing is such a personal venture; yet it acclaims suffrage on so many levels. I had a visiting author tell me once: “Nobody likes to write, they just like it after it’s done..
Hummmm, I wonder if that’s true?
I, myself, write lots of different stuff > for different reasons> in different genres; and , I agree I do like it when I’m done.
But, sometimes, just banging on these keys: words flying, mental disorder abounding, a locutional discharge at such a rate I’m barely maintaining control.. The stimulus, at times, far outweighing the meaning.
-But not today!
Today, my rationale is: Why write at all?
To look back over my half-century plus and remember the starts and stops of this passion for me along the way; it, my writing, tells a story about me. Not so much an autobiography told in letters and photos; but, a history told in “bread-crumbs” dropped along the way; more like a trail so my path will remain visible as I wonder the greater uncertainties that lie ahead.
Writing is like that – a synonym for life lived.
I always think of Justin Torres’ novella, We the Animals. In it, his narrator says about life: ” We wanted more. We wanted much more.”
A keyboard to me: that “silver-tongued devil” that feeds my psyche and the lives of so many others.
Have a blessed New Year!!!!!!!!
I stand amazed at times how much my life experiences hold interest to my much younger student peers. Since my first academic go-around in the early 70’s was no “cake-walk,” and life that followed was “difficult.” And, it took another fifteen years or so to really come into my own; it’s complex to make people understand that just because they get a diploma – life can be a very ungainly path to walk.
Of course, I didn’t start a college setting till I was twenty-two; the military came before that, and I really continue to feel that gave me an edge … but, not much of one. I believe learning to stand on your own feet is as an important lesson as any I know of to help you get through what life is bound to throw at you. That’s the knowledge I try to pass on.
I’ve not known too many folks that have really “come-of-age” within themselves that the “school-of-hardknocks” hasn’t played a significant role in true identity.
I try to relate my story to that of Homer’s “Odyssey;” the trek to get home is long and filled with quagmires.
I pray they listen!