We all know Red Riding never told the whole story. Delighted this made it into the Write in for National Flash Fiction Day. The Write-In: 'Into the Woods' by Jackie Morris https://thewrite-in.blogspot.com/2023/06/into-woods-by-jackie-morris.html?spref=tw
http://flashfloodjournal.blogspot.com/2023/06/unrequited-by-jackie-morris.html?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=twitter Here’s my FlashFlood story. Enjoy! Photo by Jill Burrow on Pexels.com
My flash, Unrequited, will appear on the FlashFlood journal at around 2:20 a.m. (BST) on Saturday, the 24th of June 2023 (National Flash Fiction Day 2023). I’m letting you know so you can set an alarm. Or you can do what I’ll be doing and catch up and have a look later in the day. To be … Continue reading Flash fiction in FlashFlood
#30Wordsin30Days ran on Twitter during April 2023. A prompt a day - you can probably guess the rest. It was a fun, low stakes way to write every day and I learnt a surprising amount about myself and writing during the month. I've put the stories beneath the observations - I'd love to know what … Continue reading Things I learnt during 30 Words in 30 Days
writing advice from the creators of South Park by Ruth Harris The book you started with so much energy and optimism? That idea you thought was so …THE BEST WRITING ADVICE EVER: RESCUE YOUR STALLED BOOK WITH ONE WORD
Flash Fiction by Ryan Griffith Transit 1 Someone had x’ed out the eyes on his passport. His face was lost to him, borders.The bar was also a …RYAN GRIFFITH: Someone had x’ed out the eyes on his passport…
'The siren call of a crimson crepe de Chine dress made from a 1938 Vogue pattern, comprising of a circular six-piece skirt and a rounded neck with pussy-bow detail' is the longest title I've ever used. Not bad for a 460 word piece, in which wartime housewife Ava is tempted by the call of her … Continue reading Flash fiction: The Siren call …
Canine conflict does not a War and Peace make.
By Lise Funderburg
I blame my 138-word essay, “What Bad Owners Say at the Dog Park,” on the photographer James Casebere. He and I were at the same artists’ colony in Italy some years back, and we seemed to have coinciding coffee break schedules, where we would join forces against a perplexing stove in the drafty kitchen of our castle. The extraordinarily detailed and hyper-realistic constructions James is known for involve specialized tools and materials and teams of assistants, none of which or whom he could schlep to Umbria for six weeks. So he put aside his steroidal dioramas and dedicated his residency to making sculptures, small wire croquis that (as far as I could tell) referenced tornadoes.
“I’m expanding my practice,” he explained.
It’s a phrase that has stuck with me since. It’s permission to explore rather than…
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On the birth of my daughter Asleep in a fishtank darkest hair dipped in gold. 3am. All is still. I watch you alien fish child. Somewhere an owl bags a mouse a man punches a wall a woman begs her lover to stay a boy cries himself to sleep a fox screeches. Here the clock … Continue reading Poem: On the birth of my daughter
Milk Tooth Your last tooth nests in tissue paper on the desk. It observes me, unblinking. It unnerves me. I don't know what to do with it. It's been a while since the tooth fairy called. Remember when you begged to know if she was real? You cried all night when I told you. I … Continue reading Poem: Milk Tooth
Just waving 