I write each piece as if making a knife. I grind it into shape, polish the surfaces, maybe cut some fancy scrollwork into the sides, and then hone the blade edge with a precise discernment, enabling its power to slice the topic so thin as to be transparent to all.
Stephen Tilden is retired in Brooklyn and carries this knife wherever he goes.
He stares at the blank page, trying to think of the perfect first line. Once that’s down, the rest will flow. A masterpiece will be unleashed.
There will be acclaim, awards, royalties. Appearances at literary festivals
He stares at the blank page, for fifty years now, squinting more and more.
Brian Maycock’s short fiction has appeared in Planet Paragraph, 101 Words and The Drabble. He lives in Scotland.
I love being ejected from coffee shops for staying past my welcome. So, I pour the brandy generously into my coffee from my flask. When I take a sip, I sigh, then open my laptop, calling myself a writer. The manager opens his flip phone and calls himself the police.
Brenda Lee Carlson is a writer from Minnesota. She has an MA in English and an MFA in Creative Writing. She’s devouring YA novels and collecting The Phantom of the Opera memorabilia when not building libraries for those in need.
The headline “ChatGPT eliminates need for writers” has him nervously type the prompt: “write a fifty-word story about love lost”.
Within seconds, ChatGPT spits out prose in any style: gothic, sci-fi, even hipster slang, but to his delightful surprise, it never gets the word count right.
He is temporarily relieved.
James Menges is a writer and photographer who keeps one eye looking over his shoulder at the approaching AI future. He is a member of the Dramatists Guild of America.
Today she endeavours to write something beautiful. She searches her heart and plumbs the depths of her soul. Her late desires and long regrets pour into her pen, but it won’t write.
Unopened, so many letters before had drizzled back: RETURN TO SENDER.
How many can a broken heart take?
Saaiqa has always been interested in writing, and is finally having a go.
The old novelist was poised to write his next masterpiece,
completely composed and waiting in his brilliantly creative mind.
Ready before him were his trusty typewriter, carbons, white-out and eraser.
Then his adoring fans surprised him with a computer,
laser printer, scanner, and writing software.
His complete recovery is uncertain.
Gene Newman is a retired old guy (90 yrs) and former New Jersey journalist and columnist. Read more at GeneNewmanImagineThat.com.
For my first personalized rejection, I received a postcard with a single handwritten word. “Sorry”. On good days, I think of it as an apology. On bad days, I’m sure it was a critique. But on any day, it’s better than nothing, because an editor read my work and responded.
David Holloway lives in Savannah Georgia and has had work published in Gargoyle, The Antihumanist, and Agnes and True.
For the longest time she didn’t know what it was, but it was very simply the writing.
The style, the cadence, the rhythms, the pace.
The psychological connection with the reader.
One day she met the reader and that reader was herself.
The hypercritical, intolerant, easily distracted, easily bored version.
Bob Thurber is the author of six books. Regarded as a master of Flash and Micro Fiction, his work has appeared in Esquire and other magazines, been anthologized 60 times, received a long list of awards, and been utilized in schools and colleges throughout the world. He resides in Massachusetts. Visit his website at BobThurber.net.
Intimidated by computers and other mechanical devices powered by electricity, Barnaby decided to write his Great American Novel in longhand.
Unfortunately, before he wrote a single word, Barney discovered sharpening pencils was an excellent delaying tactic.
Now, knee-deep in sawdust, he has a new excuse for not writing: tennis elbow.
John H. Dromey has stories published hither and yon, as well as some places in between.
Start with truth and wait for fiction to reveal itself. Punch it up. Tenderize the truth. Add a dash of Hunter Thompson’s brains. Scraped off the wall. Drizzle with some mescaline. Garnish with spent casings and discarded drafts. What you get is mostly pulp, spiked and unsweetened. Distill with caution.
Nikita Linivenko hates writing bios in the third person.