I won the challenge set by NaNoWriMo 2019. Here is my certificate. You're probably wondering what I'm talking about, right? Right --> That way. Yep. For the second year in a row, I have managed, somehow, to meet the personal challenge of writing at least 50,000 words in the month of November. Last…
Day 7 has come and I'm done my stint for the day. Not as much as I would have liked. But this fictional stuff is hard. It's not like the stream of unconsciousness crap I usually churn out on this blog. That comes from a unlatched brain. I can usually churn out 1500…
Well, we're off! #NaNoWriMo2019 #Imwriting Here is today's progress report. Heavy going! I took the 200 odd words I had laying around from a story I tentatively titled "Hey! I'm dying here!" and worked it up to the end of Act I. I see all stories as Acts of a play. In fact, this particular…
Well, November is almost here. This means that NaNoWriMo is almost here. November is the month designated National Novel Writing Month. A purely voluntary challenge to onseself. Write down 50,000 words, at least, in the 30 days of the month. There is an online community to act as cheerleaders, mentors and unpaid team…
NOTE: This is a work of fiction. It comes from the mind of Sarbari Sen, a world famous chef in her family. She feeds one husband, one daughter, one son and their many friends as often as she can. When not making rosgullas she dabbles in homeopathy, tolerates her kids and concocts tales of murder and…
In the November of 2014, I wrote a short story. It was very raw, very abrupt and it didn't really work. But it did have one central theme that seemed to have lots of potential. I showed it to Anjana Dutt and we went back and forth over it for several weeks. Over the next…
It was a dark and stormy night. The wind was high, he didn’t pay it any mind. He had his boots on and he walked on down the hallway. He came to a door and he stepped outside. It was a stormy Monday. He knew Tuesday would be just as bad. It was…
Ecks was lonely, they said. Ecks didn’t think so. He was always busy, doing something that most people thought was doing nothing. Jay Ecks was 42 and single and this made people click their tongue and make sympathetic noises. In their book, loneliness, or being alone, was not a desirable way to be.…
“Where to, Chief? Back to HQ?” Goon grunted. Fatty slipped in the clutch and pulled out of his parking slot outside the tiny coffee shop. Goon wiggled to make himself comfortable in his seat. Fatty gave him a sidelong glance. “So what really happened, Chief?” “What?” “Inspector Jenks. You know what I’m talking…
Goon and Fatty exchanged glances. There was a moment of silence before Goon cleared his throat. "Would you please explain, Mrs. Miller? What makes you think someone is trying to kill you?", he asked. "It's quite obvious, isn't it", said the old lady, "why else would I find a skateboard at the top…