“... 100 words.” The voice seems to float to me across a great gulf. “Then freedom.”
I look at the flames ringing my desk. The sores on my skin. The squamous squirming within them.
I start to write, only occasionally diverted by the seething hellscape.
At 25 words, I notice my title is a consonantal garble. I fix it. At 57 words, I see that my protagonist is speaking in Yiddish. I fix it. At 99 words, I sigh, close my eyes—
—and open them to a blank page.
But that’s fine, right? I can fix it. It’s only ...
Postscript: If the above widget is giving you trouble, visit ISLF's Soundcloud page.
Saturday, December 17, 2016
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17 comments:
Loren, you have captured the writer's plight with such eloquence and economy! Most impressive!
Wow!
With so few words you have painted an extraordinary landscape!
"It's Only ..." is excellent. I wonder -- would it be possible to put the audio on a loop?
Your prefacing vignette is especially poignant, this historic year, as we seek distractions before the coming Terror.
Well done!
Brilliant
I am not alone it seems!
Great variety in the stories!
Note: the link for my piece ("Scrawled on Memo Line ...") doesn't work. But the link for the general blog (Donnetown Today, etc.) does.
Sorry, Manuel, I messed that up. Should be fixed now.
A writerly Sisyphus. Good on you, sir.
Paula,
Thank you! I think the difficulty of composition is something we can all empathize with.
Patrick,
You're too kind, sir.
Manuel,
I could futz about with my editing software a bit and see if I could get it to loop. Lemmee see if I get a few minutes free next week.
I'm glad you like the post intro. Every year I riff on a loose theme, just something to kick my mind over into stream-of-consciousness creativity. This year's bit didn't really have anything to do with the American election (if that's what you're referencing). If anything, the death of Castro got me thinking along those lines.
Elizabeth,
Many thanks!
TKM,
Aw shucks ...
Michael,
You aren't at all.
Phil,
I've mulled over Psalm 78:33 for years. I know it's describing a historical situation, but I can't imagine a worse fate than having all of your efforts consumed in futility, in a slow, wasting worthlessness.
*snort laugh* That is Hell indeed. Good job!
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