Winners

I'd like to submit a new post category for your consideration, called "Crap That Wins." To avoid bitterness as we send work out there into the world, we need to have our eyes open. After all, writers can be as much united by what they hate as what they love.
Exhibit A:
http://www.artsintransit.org/PIM09.html

Nano on a Mission

Need something to do with your awesome Nanos? Try sending them here:
http://www.pw.org/content/nano_fiction_4

Nano Book Report

a.k.a. Lit-Crit.

The Savage Detectives, Part 1

Restless innocent adopts himself to confederation of poetbums in Mexico City. He becomes schoolquit, lovemade, pimphostage before escaping with Ulises, Arturo, and the little prostitute.


...Thought I'd let you guys know: a lit journal based out of an STL uni is still seeking poetry submissions for their next issue. You don't even have to waste postage since they want all electronic submissions. They've got a Missouri slant, but I'm sure you all could find one of your pieces that's vaguely midwestern (think meth and thunderstorms, winds that carry cows and hops from someplace over the rainbow). Maybe some of us aren't into seeking publication, but I'm all about seeing your works in print. SO here's the link: http://www.lindenwood.edu/untamedInk/

Nano "Inspired By True Events" Fiction ???

"The Prairie Fire"

I followed the smoke to the rim of town, where it bruised the sky, where snowflake ashes dusted the windshield. Where saltwater splashed the dashboard.

"Pregnant Pause"
'I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong,' she chokes. 'I don't either, but I have to go,' he tells her, pressing 'OFF' on the keypad.

Some dearly beloved devices

Hi all, 

Great nano-pieces! I will try some over spring break, but for now am scrambling to complete even a single piece that's remotely coherent. Been in quite the writer's slump lately, but I think a recently discovered literary device might be the safety net I'm looking for. I recently read "Sanatorium Under the Sign of the Hourglass" by Bruno Schulz (very compelling semi-autobiography focusing on the mythical aspects of this Polish man's childhood, completed right before he was shot at the age of 50 by a German officer), and during our class discussion, my professor raised the issue of Zeugma, which then spurred my curiosity into the discovery and attempted usage of Syllepsis: 

So I'll direct you to this page which gives a brief outline of each: 

http://www.drbilllong.com/EvenMoreWords/Zeugma.html

How's everyone doing with their writing these days? Perhaps the upcoming spring weather will rev our creative engines a bit more. Let's hope!

Til then, I will go to the coffee shop and then insane. Ha, get it? eh? eh? Oh dear...

Nano iTom Version 2.0

I'm sitting in the laundromat, watching strangers' clothes spin around in the dryer--what better time to feed my nano addiction?

“Radio”
B moves to LA on Monday. She’s packed her cassettes, her vinyl. Now I have more time for D and her cherry red iPod.

“Cookies”
Grandma left, died. Her kitchen’s filled with cookie jars, collected. I take Garfield in a chef’s hat—her favorite and only I know. Money’s inside.

“13, Remembered”
Braces at 13, lipstick and cleavage at 20. Donald loves her. Brad and Grant love her too. She remembers Larry Botts, seventh grade, and cries.

“Last”
Matt’s in Iraq, second tour. Gray under-eyes, she joins the PTA, wishes it met more often. His last letter’s torn and smells like peppermint.

Nano Fiction, 1-2-3

Owing to the fact that I have written approximately ZILCH since . . . I can't even remember when, I decided to write some nanofiction. You can tell I haven't written in awhile, but if nothing else, it reignited the creative flame.

To all who have preceded me in doing this: I'm impressed. Tom, I hope that coming from a stranger, the fact that your nanofiction blew me away means a little something extra to ya.

The Smell of Fear:
As they leave under a blackened sky, the boy wipes a red river from his nostrils and says, “I get nosebleeds when I’m nervous.”

Garages:
She’d kissed him twice before today in the same stagnant parking garage, when her eyes prickle as he pushes in too far.

Month-to-Month:
December, he coughs blood into the Kleenex she keeps in the glove box. February, she leaves her keys in an envelope on the mantel.

Nano Sequence 2: Cosmic Jokes

"The Contest"

Rattling drinks, they agreed love was about power. She thought herself good, and waited for him to call her name. He called the lawyer instead.

"Vegetable"

Before the Corolla swerved, she bit her tongue biting the carrot, teeth peeling off the tip, and flinched thinking, "God, are my senses so dull?"

"After Brock Died"

An unlucky birdling remained dropped on the stoop.
It baked for a week.
Finally the cat died in guilt, and I picked up the shovel.

Nano writing is the new not writing

Katie, what a great exercise! I love yours - so poetic. Tom, again, I'm not surprised by the awesomeness of these. When you're both famous, I'll say I knew you when.

Here's my attempt. I think, for me, it doesn't matter if they suck or not, but that they managed to break me out of my moratorium on all things writer-rific (that's what taking classes, applying to grad school, and working full-time does to a person, apparently. Actually, Tom can attest that yesterday I spent the better part of an hour trying to win a time trial in MarioKart. Yes, my priorities are in order).

Thanks again, Katie, for this excellent exercise.

“The Nurse”

The deed, indeed, left something to them. But on his deathbed, he had looked at her ankles, and decided something else.

“Science”

His face lit up with cancer. Half the town had died. And left with it, he had to wonder, was it something in the water?

“Probability”

The airport was that way. She cried anyway. You never know, sometimes the plane just doesn’t land. Was it love, afterall?

Nano iTom

“Hunched”
Sunset in the grass; Aileen’s hunched, crying. I decide to leave. Standing, I remember her hair matted with rain, her wet lips kissing her husband.

“Chores”
She left yesterday, dresses stuffed in two red suitcases. Today I mowed, clipped hedges, chatted with Chet across the fence about dogs. It’s my fault.

“Sunday Morning”
I woke in a cold, empty bed, her pillow smelling like strawberries. She’s left a rose on the kitchen table. And a note, “Love you.”
---------------------------
Here's my stab at it. This is a great exercise, Katie. Along with all the things you said in your email, I feel like the 25 words also force you to lay claim to your voice in a way long works don't. There aren't all those paragraphs to muck about in.

Katie, your first two are highly poetic and almost surreal in the way they reveal the moment and the plot. Your third also reads like a poem, but instead of surreal, feels grittier, more grounded in the conflict and character

This reminds me of a 6-word memoir site I saw a while back: http://www.smithmag.net/sixwords But let's be honest: unless you're Hemingway, there can be such a thing as too short.

Nano-Fiction (25 words)

Little Violence


"Drive-by Paintball"

Remnants of a redhead, widowed optimist, she waits for a friend. Slow car, half window, pop. Her temple blasted green: At least it happened to me.


"The Pitch"

Stunted boy, outgrown his brain, cocks his arm, kitchen knife clutched. Babysitter, nurse, all-time pitcher til now, freezes for the snap.
She doesn't blink.


"Rodeo"

At the wall, he stamps his brother's cigarette to dirt.
He'll take her from him.
This is what it means to root for the bull.