Sometimes a little unincorporated Ditty is all you need.
Category Archives: Photo by author
Photo Finish Friday: “Ditty”
Sometimes a little unincorporated Ditty is all you need.
Filed under Photo by author, Photo Finish Friday
Photo Finish Friday: “No Exit”
This way be madness…
John Sartre moved to town, running away from an existential crisis. he did not know what he wanted to do. He had tried his hand at art, play writing, film writing, essays, history, and philosophy. He felt he had succeeded at any of those. Then he came across the street sign and saw it as an omen, a talisman, a message — he would move in here and become a poet and he would not leave until he had succeeded. To date, no one has read the poems of John Sartre, and every time he sees the sign he sighs and wishes he were a sign maker. Then he could make sign to paste over this one and he could escape. Maybe then, there would be an outlet for his creative spirit.
[Editor’s note: now it is your turn. Take this image as inspiration and writing something funny, serious, sensible, or silly. Let inspiration be your guide and whimsy your muse.]
Filed under Photo by author, Photo Finish Friday
Photo finish Friday: “The torch is passed”
The “safe” Olympic flame
With concern over security growing and the cost of the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi, Russia mounting, the Olympic Committee has taken the unprecedented step and decreed that the Olympic torch will be made out of construction paper, as well will the resting place of the Olympic flame.
“This should reduce security concerns on several fronts,” said an Olympic official, who asked that his name be kept out of the press until the official announcement is made. “It will also be lighter, easier to protect, and it will never go out. The only thing we have to fear is a sudden bucket of water of freak thunderstorm.” The official went on to say that the cost savings we have an immediate positive impact on the bottom line. “And if it works well enough for the Olympic flame, we may just start building our future Olympic villages out of cardboard, crepe paper, and the like.”
[Editor’s note: Now it is your turn. What bit of writing silliness or seriousness is inspired in you by this photo. Be as creative as you want.]
Filed under Photo by author, Photo Finish Friday
Photo Finish Friday: “The Big CrackUp”
“The World’s economy collapsed today when roughly the top third of the globe blew away. Nobody knows right off hand what caused the event to take place, nor why it appears that all of Canada, all of the U.S. — except for Hawaii — and most of Mexico where the hardest hit land masses, if hit was what happened. What has been almost as startling is the discovery that — contrary to scientific theories and the best evidence available until this unfortunate event — the World apparently is hollow.
“Wait, this just in. Apparently, the rest of the world is forming giant cracks, like puzzle pieces. It appears … it appears, ladies and gentlemen, it appears the world is literally cracking up….”
“Oh, the humanity….”
Filed under Photo by author, Photo Finish Friday
Photo finish Friday: “The piano at the loop of time”
Play it again….
“Sam, it’s December 1941 in Casablanca. What time is it in New York?”
“Ah … my watch stopped.”
“I bet they’re asleep in New York. I bet they’re asleep all over America. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”
Music from the piano.
“What’s that you’re playing?’
“Just a little something I wrote.”
“Stop it. You know what I want to hear.”
“But—”
“You played it for her. You can play it for me. If she can stand it, so I can.”
“But Boss, I played it for you last night.”
“Play it, again.”
“But Boss, I played it for you last night and she didn’t come.”
“She’ll be back, I know it.” He slugs down another drink. He’s had so many, he doesn’t remember what it is.
“But Boss, I played it before and she didn’t come.”
“As Time Goes By” rises up from the upright piano. It is a ghost in the room, rattling the chains of cords and notes. It rattles on and on evoking memories and mistakes.
“Sam, it’s December 1941 in Casablanca. What time is it in New York?”
“Ah … my watch stopped.”
“I bet they’re asleep in New York. I bet they’re asleep all over America. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”
“Ah … my watch stopped.”
[Editor’s note: with apologies to Casablanca. If you haven’t seen it — what are you waiting on? Now, it’s your turn. What would you write to this photo?]
Filed under Photo by author, Photo Finish Friday
Writing Week in Review
Writing Week in Review
or
Ten minutes You’ll never get back in this lifetime
by DAVID E. BOOKER
Practice, practice, practice.
Summary: Up and down week for my computer, my Internet connect, and for my writing.
Details: I don’t know if my computer is on its last virtual legs or headed for silicon senility, but it has taken to spontaneously rebooting, and even telling me after it has done so that it has “Recovered from a System Error” or something like that. There is no set time of the day for this to take place. It has happened while I am sitting at the computer and while I am away.
My Internet connection has also been up and down. That was also without a set time of the day, though it tended to happen more after 9 PM. It had been going on for several weeks, building from a spotty event to a continual-though-hard-to-predict-when event. I finally reached the point of exasperation, having done all the things I could do, such as reboot the modem (several times), check the inside connections (again several times), and run the diagnostics provided with the modem, which only tended to confirm that my Internet was down. (Dah, don’t you think I already figured that much out?)
First, an inside guy appeared and checked out everything. It was one of those appointment windows – you know the type – where you get a window of opportunity, as I like to call it. The technician was scheduled to be there “between 4 and 8 PM.” Fortunately, he arrived a little after 4 PM and even called my wife, who was at home, at 4 to say he would be at our house in ten minutes, and he was. He was polite and checked things out and said everything on the inside was fine, that an outside technicians would have to be scheduled to come out. He couldn’t say exactly when that would happen. I guess technicians don’t have a secret handshake – virtual or otherwise – that gets them any more inside information that the rest of us get.
Well, the outside guy arrived the next morning. He called to say he was outside, but nobody was at home at the time he called. The inside technician seemed to think the outside guy might have to replace the line running from the pole to the house, and so would need access to the house. Not likely to happen when nobody’s here. I have heard of one person in my neighborhood who leaves her house doors unlocked when she leaves, but she ain’t me. I lock, lock, and lock again.
Anyway, whatever he did, short of replacing the line, appears to be working. For the past few days the Internet connect has not dropped out at unexpected times for explained reasons. So, I give high marks for the workmanship, the promptness of service (even if one part of it came without a confirmation of the schedule), and for the courtesy of the technicians, including the person at the call center, for whom I’m sure English was not his native language. Or maybe it was my tired ears that couldn’t quite understand him and had to ask, on several occasions, for something to be repeated.
As for my writing, it has been a bit skewed this week. Normally, I get up at 3 AM to write for about 30 minutes or so before going to work. I have a modest goal of 300 words a day on the two novels I am working on. However, due to a change in my work schedule, I am not getting up at 3 AM to get to work. Because of that my modest goal has fallen behind this week. I have tried writing in the late afternoon or early evening when I get home, but there are always chores and family obligations and evening meetings that get in the way. I am trying to adjust. Maybe I can catch up some this weekend.
It is often frustrating how little things and acts of life can get in the way of writing. Of course, I can do a good job of getting in my own way, but that is a topic for another time.
[Author’s note: this is the first time I have done this and it may not be a regular thing. My intention is not to bore and certainly not to call attention to myself as someone special. If anything, it shows how ordinary a person a writer is, except for the desire to accomplish something that looks so easy, but is far from it.]
Photo finish Friday: “Up in smoke”
[Author’s note: This is where you write a story, poem, even essay based on a photo. I have placed the photo a little further down in the story, but you are free to write what you want based on the photo. The photo is mine, so if you use in a blog or other publication, please give me credit: David E. Booker. Thanks.]
by DAVID E. BOOKER
It was almost the end of his shift when homicide detective C. Sparks got the call to go to possible homicide on East S. Ave. He had plans for his evening, a nice dinner with the victim of another murder case he had worked and solved only three weeks ago. The widow was so grateful that after four months he had not given up on the case and actually figured out who the murdered was and built a solid case with which the D.A. could easily prosecute … and win.
He turned from N. Center St. onto East S. and saw a blue SUV in the middle of the road, a prowl car on the other side of it. Both were in the middle of the street. Both were holding up traffic.
Detective Sparks pulled up behind the SUV. No, he’d block traffic from the N. Center side. He opened his car door and stepped out. The summer heat, even the evening version, was more than any reasonable person should stand, particularly – especially because it was being reflected back up by the baked street asphalt.
The beat cop was talking to a very animated man. Sparks glanced around. There was no body. There were no crime scene technicians. What the hell was going on? Was there a body or was somebody just trying to get him?
The beat officer saw him about the same time he saw her. She broke away from the animated man and met Sparks about halfway from his car to the blue SUV.
“What’s this about?” He looked at the name plate above left breast pocket, then added, “V. Slims.”
“It’s Virginia. Most people call me Virgy.”
“Okay. Virgy, what’s up?”
“This man claims he turned the corner on the E. Scott and out of nowhere this man appears, stops in the middle of the road to light a cigarette and before he could anything, he ran into the guy. He was sure of it. But then he stopped the car and got out and the guy was gone.”
“Yeah, it was as if he disappeared in a cloud of smoke,” the man said.
He had walked up and Sparks hadn’t noticed. Sparks knew then he had been working too many hours.
“And you are?” Sparks asked.
“Leonard M. Bold,” Officer Gordon said. “I checked his ID when rolled I up.”
“Most people call me Leo,” Bold said, extending his hand.
Sparks stared at it for a moment before taking it.
“What were you doing on this street,” Sparks asked.
“I’m in real estate and was driving through this historic neighborhood seeing if there were any houses for sale. See who has them listed. I have a client who might be interested in a historic house.”
Sparks nodded. He then walked up and around the SUV. No sign of dents or broken headlights, or any indication that it had even collided with a house fly let alone a body. The SUV gleamed so brightly, it even hurt his eyes to look at it.
Up In smoke
He squinted a little harder to make out the brand of cigarettes: L, M, Bold. He looked up at the man, then back down at the cigarettes, then up at the man again.
“This is a joke, right? You think you’re funny, calling me out here, Leonard M. Bold.”
“But it’s true, what I said.” Leonard walked over to where Sparks was.
“Yeah, right.” Sparks looked over at Slims. “How much you in on this, Virginia Slims? If that’s your real name. What the hell is going on here.”
Sparks was angry, but even he was surprised when sparks started flying out of his mouth. The first ones hit Officer Virginia Slims and she caught on fire and was burning up. This couldn’t be happening. He turned to look a Leonard, who was already running away.
Sparks yelled after him and flames shot out of his mouth and hit Gold squarely in the back. Gold caught on fire like a book of matches or a pack of cigarettes.
The air smelled like burned tobacco, and Sparks realized how much he actually missed smoking. Even after six years, the craving still seized him every now and then. Right now it was suddenly so strong he might just kill for a cigarette.
Filed under Photo by author, Photo Finish Friday
Writing tip Wednesday: “Making your own ‘cloud'”
by DAVID E. BOOKER
I hope as a writer you know the importance of backing up or saving in a different location copies of your work.
Typewriters had carbon paper. (Yes, I am old enough to have used that.) Early computers had floppy disks. (Yep, I used those, too.) Now there are thumb drives and external hard drives and even back up services such as JustCloud or Dropbox. Many of the cloud services offer free storage up to a set amount, often 5 GB (gigabytes) or something like that. While 5 GB doesn’t sound like much, you have to understand that stories, novels, poems, essays, and articles don’t take up much space. I used to keep many short stories on one 1.44 MB (megabyte) diskette.
But say you don’t have the time or inclination to store backups in the cloud and you can’t afford thumb drives or even an external hard drive. You still have a relatively inexpensive option for saving backup copies of your work simply by sending it to yourself.
You can make your own storage “cloud.”
Setting up an e-mail account is not hard and it’s usually free, and as I said, documents heavy only with words don’t take up much space and should be easy to send as an attached file. For example, a novel I am working on entitled Dead Man Love is only 161KB for roughly 25,000 words, and it takes 1024 KB to equal 1 MB.
Plus, the one advantage of sending yourself a copy is that you have a snapshot of where you were on that particular draft on that particular day, so if you date the e-mails you send to yourself, you could find an earlier copy with something that you might have removed that you now want to put back.
Filed under Photo by author, Writing Tip Wednesday
Monday morning writing joke: “Road well traveled”
1st person: Why did the author cross the road?
2nd person: I don’t know, why?
1st person: To catch the agent on the other side.
2nd person: Why did the agent cross the road?
1st: To catch the editor on the other side.
2nd: And why did the editor cross the road?
1st: To catch the publisher on the other side.
2nd: Okay, then why did the publisher cross the road?
1st: He was following the chicken.
And why did the writer cross the road?
Filed under Monday morning writing joke, Photo by author
Photo Finish Friday: “Elvis and Marilyn”
Elvis and Marilyn hanging out at the local pizzeria.
Marilyn and Elvis were hanging out at the local pizzeria on a Friday night, debating which one was best: the Hawaiian or the new Reuben pizza.
“Ain ith goof ta be deed?” Marilyn asked, balancing a slice of pizza on her tongue and doing her best not to spill any of the sauce on her white dress. She was waiting to meet her blind date, some guy named Arthur who claimed to be a playwright.
“One for the money, two for the show, three to get ready, and four don’t you know, that sauce better not get on my blue suede shoes,” Elvis said.
“I said, ain’t it good to be dead?”
“That’s better, honey,” Elvis said, “Love me tender, love me true.”
The microphone did not appear to be working. It was there and that was all.
“We can hang out in places like this, put pizza on our tongues, and no one pays us any mind. We’re just a couple of crazy look-a-likes to the rest of the world.”
“But you got a date coming. All I got is my guitar,” Elvis said.
The bell above the door to the pizzeria jingled indicating somebody was coming inside. They both looked. If it was a live person, neither one would be able to see him or her. Not directly, anyway. Only an after image and only after a few minutes. It was the way things worked when you were dead.
They saw no one. They were all alone. Elvis and Marilyn. She put the slice of pizza on her tongue. It was the same slice she had most nights. She wasn’t hungry, so she never ate it, never even tried. That’s the way it was when you were dead.
[Author’s note: Photo finish Friday is a photo something around where I live that I think might be a good writing prompt. I try to include something written with the photo. If the photo inspires you to write something, please do. Please remember that all material is mine and respect the copyright of it. Thank you.]
Filed under Photo by author, Photo Finish Friday, Story by author
Booker's Blog 