Memoirous

“The stars and black sky closed over me. I was not Pip with the hope of great expectations, just an eighth grader looking for a lucky break.” Roland Tanner is looking for a benefactor, someone to rescue him from his family, the sorriest characters he’s ever met: a sister who works at the Curl Up and Dye salon, a brother who takes motors apart in their front yard, a grandmother who flashes him the evil eye from her ragged vinyl armchair, and a father who keeps him at arm’s length. Tested as gifted, Roland gets bused from his poor, rural home to the middle school in town, where his new classmates only see him as a hillbilly. He is desperate to reach out beyond the power lines that crisscross the hills surrounding the family’s trailer in southeastern Ohio. Yet he’s afraid to step outside of himself to ask Patty to the dance, to stand up for his Muslim friend Hassan, to see that his father loves him. It’s only when he realizes he’s in charge of his destiny that Roland accepts the clou

Readers of this blog know that I often post about memories. I've blended the art of flash with memoir to come up with flash memoir. Memoir, unless you've had a ridiculously exciting life--such as people who survive a bridge collaps e--most of us lead lives of quiet desperation--even Thoreau's life was made up of unmemorable experiences. The ordinary, the mundane. And what can be more ubiquitous or mundane than a pigeon. Here in the city we call them flying rats. There's nothing special about them--mainly because they're EVERYWHERE. A pigeon exemplifies the very idea of writing about the ordinary. Consider, then, submitting flash to  http://everypigeon.com/ Every Pigeon  publishes works which magnify the mundane. Works that find significance in everyday routine, light and layered color in the grey coat of every pigeon. We publish twice a year in June and December. We favor work that puts its face right up to the glass. Let us see the details o

Check out these publications if interested in submitting FLASH: New Flash Fiction  1000 words or less FlashBack Fiction is an online journal dedicated to historical flash fiction, prose poetry and hybrid work. 500 words or less

“The stars and black sky closed over me. I was not Pip with the hope of great expectations, just an eighth grader looking for a lucky break.” Roland Tanner is looking for a benefactor, someone to rescue him from his family, the sorriest characters he’s ever met: a sister who works at the Curl Up and Dye salon, a brother who takes motors apart in their front yard, a grandmother who flashes him the evil eye from her ragged vinyl armchair, and a father who keeps him at arm’s length. Tested as gifted, Roland gets bused from his poor, rural home to the middle school in town, where his new classmates only see him as a hillbilly. He is desperate to reach out beyond the power lines that crisscross the hills surrounding the family’s trailer in southeastern Ohio. Yet he’s afraid to step outside of himself to ask Patty to the dance, to stand up for his Muslim friend Hassan, to see that his father loves him. It’s only when he realizes he’s in charge of his destiny that Roland accepts t

I recently had new work published at a small online journal called Rejected Manuscripts. I'd only just started circulating Examples of Synchronicity, and while at Calvin College and the Festival of Faith & Writing I received a rejection. This in and of itself is no big deal. In fact I barely ever emotionally register a rejection. Mainly because I'm ALWAYS sending things out. I know the odds are I'll eventually get an acceptance. But it was WHY it was rejected that baffled me. The editor said dismissively--this seems like a bunch of random coincidences. And, I thought--well? yes--that was the point. It's sort of the meaning of synchronicity and the basis of the piece, a series of small flashes that detailed examples of synchronicity. I sort of thought that was evident, self-explanatory. I sat in on a session with the famous short story writer Joy Williams, who has her own book out containing what I might describe as flash essays/fiction/synchronicity/

Hi! everyone what a summer!! can you believe it's almost over?? I've had a few acceptances this summer--one of which is a short story called Museum of the Mall--forthcoming from Colere , a literary mag out of Coe University Colere  is a literary journal that  publishes works of fiction, essays, poetry, and artwork dealing with culture and cross-cultural experience.    

Tuesday July 3, 2018, 56 km (35 miles) - Total so far: 1,918 km (1,192 miles) My alarm went off at 5 this morning. I was the only one sleeping in the hut so didn't worry about waking others. Last night a man and his little girl showed up. I asked if they were staying. No, just getting food. (The hut has a pantry where people can grab stuff and leave $$) We talked a bit about my trip. I told him I was hoping to make it to Sandnes. I'm from Sandnes, he said. He suggested I take the road to Lystbotn and then the ferry. I said I'd heard the switchbacks were crazy. (28 total) Not too steep, he answered, and I'd save a heap of KM. I would definitely make it to Sandnes. On the map the ferry goes through the fjord past Pulpit Rock. It sounded beautiful and a perfect way to end the trip. He mentioned there was some ups. But he seemed certain I could handle it. It took me 1.5 hours to relay my stuff out. Much better than the trip in, and cooler. It was 7:15 by the tim

Monday July 2, 2018 For exactly 24 hours I have not been on a bike. Today I rested. It felt a little weird.My skin no longer burns from the sun, it's cool to the touch. I had a big plate of pasta for lunch, several cups of tea. But most of all I rested. That tension muscle that runs behind the neck and between the shoulders is gone, relaxed. I finished reading the book I bought in Plon, ages and miles ago. My trip is almost over. Tomorrow I will ride close to Sandnes. Being here at the mountain hut healed me (I hope). I was feeling so overwhelmed and unsure if I could finish. It's amazing what I've already done. Still tomorrow I have figure out how to get stuff out of here, but have a sort of plan that I'm sure will still be physically taxing. Unbelievably I'm the only one here. This a.m. said good bye to two ladies who seemed like they were life-long friends. They were only planning 5KM to the next hut. Also the young German couple left who I shared food w

Sunday July 1, 2018, 84 km (52 miles) - Total so far: 1,862 km (1,157 miles) I had a feeling. All the bugs flitting about the rain fly sounded like rain. A sizzling all night long. This a.m. I made a quick potty dash. Oh boy. I scrambled back into the tent. I decided to forgo firing up the stove for hot water and had a dry breakfast. But eventually I'd have to come out of the tent and pack. It was like zombie bug apocalypse. They swarmed me as soon as I crawled out. At one point I quickly switched out shirts--but not fast enough. It was like I was covered with fur. They were so thick I could hardly breathe. I coughed and shoved and batted them away with my hands. I was out of breath just getting away. Then my chain fell off. And there were hills out there. Then my chain seized up almost sending me to the ground. It was early morning Sunday, no one around; I felt alone and afraid. What if my bike breaks? What if I do smash to the ground? The higher I climbed, the more absolu

Saturday June 30, 2018, 64 km (40 miles) - Total so far: 1,779 km (1,105 miles) Last night my camper neighbors wheeled a long power strip out to me. I was able to give all battery banks 100%, important as I'll be wild camping at least a couple of times. The Telemark mountains are getting to me in good and bad ways. Really, they're breathtaking. Seljord sits in a steep-walled valley. Almost like a gash. I camped by a big lake, but chose to be near the outer toilets, which incidentally also had a couple shower stalls. A big wind came up so the lake tent area was too exposed. Where I was was perfect, and like I mentioned my neighbors were kind. They said I'd ridden my bike further than they'd driven their camper that day. And, boy, were my legs feeling it. I felt lucky to have made the climbs, to have made it to Seljord, and to have found reasonably priced camping. She even let me charge it and gave me cash back. (See earlier troubles finding an ATM. So this a.m.

Friday June 29, 2018, 105 km (65 miles) - Total so far: 1,715 km (1,066 miles) So last night I put on my big girl pants. Actually some performance underwear I bought at Target right before leaving. The waistband has inspirational sayings. I needed some inspiration. All night long grave tenders arrived. I woke up early and was taking a poo at 5:30 and someone pulled up. The weather today started out cool. 52 degrees. I rode out in leggings and windbreaker, but after climbing it all came off. While climbing a tank passed me. Downhill into Notodden the wind roared in my ears. My cyclometer also broke down. I put fresh batteries in before leaving, so again a mystery. The phone recovered though. It was 49.8 km KM to Heddal, with 603 up and 623 meters down. I now know what this feels like. Actually fresh and in the cool morning, it felt do-able. On the way out of Notodden, not sure why, I asked these two ancient Norwegian ladies if Heddal was ahead. They answered in Norwegian, and

Thursday June 28, 2018, 64 km (40 miles) - Total so far: 1,610 km (1,000 miles) I'm not sure what to write about today. Lost in Norway. Yes, I'm in Norway, but lost here has many dimensions--mostly vertical. Lost can be scary and dangerous. I've never had such a day such as this one. First the good bits. Woke up and took my time, eating and packing; said goodbye to my host. She wished me luck. I caught the ferry to Horton and made it to Asgardstrand in about an hour and a half. I did ask two people where Munch's house was, as I had to go down a big hill and wanted to be sure. Not a clue and we were about 300 meters from it. Sheesh. It was a great tour of Munch's house--his favorite and the one he had before becoming rich and famous. He was a very complicated man. view from Munch's front door Munch selfie (and, if you look closely--me) quiet Swedish road before craziness started Left around 12:30 and somehow my directions s