Let’s talk about “How To” books for a moment—especially those aimed at dummies. First of all, I don’t need to be reminded of my incompetence. I already have someone who does that for me. Secondly, I’m not sure I want to learn “How To.” The more you know, the more people expect from you. Who needs that pressure?
However, for those who insist on learning new skills, I have put my personal prejudices aside and included self-improvement essays in both my books. The instructional manual, How To Write “How To” Books and The Seven Six Habits of Highly Effective Procrastinators are just a few short clicks away. You can thank me later.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, our inter-galactic cat-herding gypsy who shakes a long, skinny finger at 100-word violators, is Katarzyna (the E.T.) Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise of madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the ensemble of practicing fic-titioners in the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
The image was grainy, but clear enough to conclude that the person was petite, barely five-feet tall. The figure crept cross the backyard with short, pronounced steps, elbows tucked, forearms extended, like a small rodent sneaking up on an acorn.
On the return trip, the torso was more erect, leaning back with hands upturned as if carrying something in empty arms.
“Can you put this in slow motion?” asked Lowry.
“Sure.” Wingnut pressed a button on the remote.
They watched the video again.
“It looks like a midget,” said Wingnut. “Do you think this one ran away from the circus?”
*the above is an excerpt from my current work in progress, “Criminal Mimes.”
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This is the blog of a woman who is seriously on the edge and I mean right ON the edge…no, not there… just a little bit further… further than that…no, further still…just a tiny bit more… just move slightly to the right a little…no, that’s too much…just move a tad to the left…that’s right, just there…now you’ve moved too far to the left… Damn, what part of the ‘on the edge’ do you not understand? Oh, and her matricidal boy genius, come devil spawn.
Or the three people I guilted into reading this blog, whatever.
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