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The NYC Midnight 250 Word MicroFiction Challenge Round 1 of 3

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It was just me and 4,400 of my closest writing friends. At 11:59 PM Friday December 8 I got my assignment. To move forward to round 2 I had to finish in the top ten of my group. There’s roughly 27 people in each of a lot of groups. Participants get 48 hours to submit a 250 word story that satisfies three criteria of Genre, Action, and a Word.

Group: 77

Genre: Horror

Action: Watching someone steal

Word: Hope

I started a story at the Writers Studio San Francisco, in 2014, about a guy who was so stoned on Vicodin that he didn’t feel chopping off his finger. The exercise was to write a story about something awful from a distant, dispassionate, even humorous voice, imitating Lorrie Moore’s tone from People Like That are the only People Here. I loved the exercise though it was greeted by scratching heads when I presented it in my spec fiction group ten years later. I tightened it up, added a bit of hope, a stolen finger, and submitted it to NYC Midnight Microfiction Challenge 250.

Semi-Sweet Sixteen

With Vicodin and iPod, he chops carrots for the cake. A hard one gives him trouble. He sharpens the knife on a long silver steel, then gives another go. Slick as snot it chops right off, but he feels a pang of regret as something red stains the neat stack of bright orange carrot spikes. He rinses and pats them dry with the hand that isn’t red. He doesn’t feel the missing digit.

            His sister hopes to win the sweet-sixteen cake contest. She sees the red digit among the choppings on the floor, and steals it into her pocket. Mother will be so proud. The cake is round with sixteen carrot spikes, each flash-frozen, and dipped in semi-sweet chocolate. She plucks one carrot from the cake, pulls the finger from her pocket, and pushes it into place as Mother slinks into the kitchen. 

            “The finger makes the cake” Mother says. “Where did you find it?”

            “On the floor with the carrots.”

            “Has your brother asked for it back?”

            “He’s still chopping. I don’t think he’s noticed.”

            “Take a photo of the cake then get a cardboard takeout box. Wipe the frosting from the finger. Wrap it in kale. Pack it with ice. A dash of salt may arrest the decay.”

            “Should I show it to him?”

            “Just tell him he’s hurt. Wrap his stub. Have him hold the box. Carefully walk him to the clinic.  But post the pictures before you go. Entries are due before dark.

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On February 8, late in the day, I thought I’d been cut. The email came late and I finished in tenth place. Just good enough to make it to round two.

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Beside getting a deadline to get my full attention on a writing project, every entrant gets feedback from several judges. Here’s what they had to say about Semi-Sweet Sixteen.

”Semi-Sweet 16” by Tom Adams –     WHAT THE JUDGES LIKED ABOUT YOUR STORY – {2319}  If the Addams Family ever had a cooking show on the Food Network, it would look something like this droll black humor story. I thought the brother was weird for not noticing his missing finger, but his sister was weirder for sticking the severed digit on the cake, and their mother was the weirdest of the three of them for being delighted at the macabre turn of events.   {2092}  The callous nature of the mother’s conversation with her daughter adds a bit of tension to the ending of the narrative.  {1955}  Well, that turned out unexpected! I was glad the mother and sister wanted to have the brother’s finger reattached—that showed they care about him (nice dialogue here, too that helped understand their dynamics). Also, the fact that he’s making the cake in the first place reflects how they feel about each other (they care). The mother calmly talking about entering the cake contest first before addressing his injury shows they’ve been here before with previous injuries.   WHAT THE JUDGES FEEL NEEDS WORK – {2319}  Obviously, this isn’t your average suburban family, and I wondered if their life outside of competitive baking was as outré as their taste in pastries. Perhaps you could trim the sentence about the brother’s knife-sharpening in order to offer a few details about their appearance, their clothing, or the kitchen they’re in that would show their skewed mindset applies to all things.   {2092}  The verbiage and perspective are a bit muddled throughout the narrative. Ex: ‘With Vicodin and iPod, he chops…’ or ‘His sister hopes to win…’ This detracts from our engagement with the story as the motivations of the characters are relatively unclear – beyond the notion of the contest. Consider reworking the story, focusing on one specific character to flesh out while giving more context for why the finger and contest matter so much.  {1955}  Consider revising your opening sentence. As written, it sounds like the Vicodin and iPod are the tools the character is using to chop the carrots (a dangling modifier). Your story switches from the brother’s point of view (“He doesn’t feel”) to the sister’s point of view (“She sees the bleeding digit”), also known as head-hopping. Consider revising from only one character’s point of view to avoid reader confusion. It would really only take a simple revision, such as, “The bleeding digit sits.” Microsoft Word is showing your story has 246 words so you have a little room to add content if you need to for revisions. You could cut “but” from “Slick as snot it chops right off, but he feels” and break the section it starts into a new sentence.

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Pretty good feedback if I wanted to take this story further. The 250 Word Microfiction Challenge forces authors to economize on language; say the most with fewest words. My second round submission started at 1800 words.

Second round feedback and ranking due out April 3, 2024.

Spirited Voices

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I took a creative writing class called Spark Your Creativity, A Journey into Deep Imagination, from Darlene Frank this past January. Our group of adventuresome writers met over three days. We wrote, shared, and ultimately, with Darlene’s help, finished stories for publication in her Spirited Voices zine.

Darlene used her own stories as writing prompts. It was a great time to let go and see where the prompts led. I found myself deep in my family history from one of her prompts. I submitted and worked with Darlene on, What My Bones Know. It’s the last story in the zine. Darlene referred to my story as the benediction for the publication.

She’s teaching the class again this January. Read about it here. It’s fun, it’s generative, it’s on zoom.

Mendocino Coast Writers’ Conference 2023

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I took a three-day Speculative Fiction workshop from Ploi Pirapokin. Three mornings in August we met from nine to noon workshopping two stories a day. What a blessing to have that much time talking with writers about our craft.

I entered the Speculative Fiction contest and won second place for my story, The Tutor. Ploi judged the contest and had this to say about the story.

A bildungsroman featuring recorded regrets, fatphobia, and an A.I. that provides the protagonist with a unique way to process his values.The protagonist’s earlier decision could have resulted in a more drastic consequence, which in turn, would be a deeper catalyst for his changed behavior.”

I’ve made revisions to The Tutor and workshopped it with my Speculative Fiction writing group. With a few more tweaks I’ll send it out; see if there’s an audience beyond my classes.

I’ve signed up for next year’s conference. Check it out here.

We Are Unique

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I finished a memoir and personal essay class from Sackett Street Workshops in NYC. I found them on the Wet Ink web site. Wet Ink is an online platform to teach writing.

For our last class our instructor, Anna Qu, gave us this quote from Martha Graham. I found it soothing and a call to action. For there is only one of me, just like there is only one of you.

“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is, nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open.”

Truth or another darn lie

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virus here to wake us up

no interest in going it alone 

rhythm, an off and on story,

sing praise of the one and only.

bend metal and fragmented hopes

miracles, come when least expected

wash windows, and pretend it’s a race

bless us, we are worthy of another chance.

premonition of great import 

settle in place with glue and sticks

stage ourselves into a wild ass rampage

solitude might coax you out of the shadows.

gas masks and a trace of irony 

science in melodrama time

we live the world on fire

truth, our scenario. 

Sedona Sun Sets over Jerome

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Sedona sunset

crowds cheer another sun setting

somewhere past the town of Jerome

people over friendly, seeking

something lost

 

ghosts clammor

bardello lady saves change

who gets a piece of her pie

their slice of the dream

 

sleeping in beds by the shift

closer to the surgeon’s house

suffering smells sink

deep in their chests

 

wicked city sitting high on the hill

while another source of money

down in the valley

franchise of energy worshipers

 

into the mountains

narrow dusty roads

parallax of the mind’s own tricks

sharing a moment with the ancient ones

 

I’ll tell you the truth

it’s a powerful vision

up close they shape shift

out of time and trouble

Why I’m Tired

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It’s evening and the tunes are starting to flow through the cool night air. A sparkling sound from the big thumping Sonos speaker gets my head in the game, gets my fingers to moving, and finds a beat that is hard to ignore. Some kind of lethargy has taken hold, and a bit of real-time fatigue, set in motion by a 24 day trip to Europe where we toured Barcelona, Lisbon, and the island of Madeira. If I’m honest I’d say the biggest trouble is that I’ve shed my jet lag but left my heart and a large dollop of my energy nine hours away. Maybe getting it down on paper with a few photos to support, I’ll be able to return to my bay area digs, heart, bones, and spirit.

Last year my wife and I started reading Dan Brown’s book Origin, and while I found the premise interesting I did not find reading it particularly rewarding. The story had its engaging moments, especially the artificial intelligence bits. I didn’t finish it. On return from our adventure one of my friends asked how I enjoyed Barcelona given that I’d read Origin, and I was clueless about her meaning. She said the book is, at least in part, set in Spain. I had not noticed that.

We already bought the book from Audible so I downloaded it and started at the beginning. The opening scene is at Montserrat (serrated edge) monastary, where we traveled to view the black Madonna. Now I have a book to read, but this time with a bit more attention.

We took the metro to the train and rode north out of Barcelona through small cities and farmland, toward a towering mountain, with steep crags at it’s pinnacle.

montserrat 2
looking up toward Montserrat

There are two stops for Montserrat (serrated edge) train station. We took the first for the gondola. The second, I believe, is serviced by a tram that rides a track up the mountain. I’m not positive, but there may be a walking option. The station was the launching point for the gondola that moved us up to the monastery in about 5 minutes. It’s steep, but follows the contour of the land so is never that far from the ground, but looking back down into the valley, it’s a long ways. We were there in October. It was cool on the mountain, but overall, the temperatures were quite mild throughout our trip. Not so, I hear, in the summer months.

montserrat 3
Looking down from gondola

When we entered the grounds I was trying to imagine how they built this place. It’s work getting things up the mountain now, but around 1025 AD? It’s a long way from anywhere, and it’s up a mountain. Would be fascinating to go back in time and be a fly on the wall, to see them making measurements, cutting stone, hauling heavy materials up a steep, rocky mountain.

montserrat inside

 

Note the people standing above and to the left of the crucifix. We stood in  line for our turn to get there and see the Black Madonna.  As we stood in a slow moving line along the inside wall of the cathedral we could look out into the sanctuary and get an up-close viewing of the architecture. Our Donna, below, with the Black Madonna.

2018-10-04 17.23.34

There’s a beautiful entry with expansive views over the valley below. We heard about a series of hikes that are available, but that will have to wait for another day.

2018-10-04 17.05.58

 

Outside the cathedral the sun was getting low in the sky, casting long shadows across the valley below where we’d catch our train back to Barcelona.

2018-10-04 17.45.27

 

The ride down was quick and easy. Our car was full and it rode quite a bit lower than a fairly empty car that we pass on our decent.

 

montserrat gondola

 

I’m still a little tired, but I’ll renew myself and talk about Christ in our travels.

 

 

 

Bruges (Brugges, Brugge)

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Bruges is a UNESCO World Heritage site. It’s old with so much new. We found the town pronounced and spelled several different ways. Bruges, like rouge with a B in front is how most tourists pronounced the quaint Belgian city, but the locals called it Brugggghhh, like starting to say blue in french, but then moving the G sound to the back of the throat and kind of squeezing the finish. I never got it right.

One of my friends at the San Francisco Writers Studio told me about Bruges. “It’s ok if you like medieval towns,” she’d said. “What with cobble stone streets, canals, quaint cafes, and boutique clothing stores,” and we did like all of that.

The trip from Amsterdam to Bruges was relaxing, if a bit underwhelming, until we got off the train in Antwerp. I remember being stunned to a stand still looking up at the massive train station clock. It had been decorated to fill the entire end of the station. It didn’t seem real. We both took photos hoping to capture the elegance of the structure. We probably have 15 images, none show the full grandeur. But our commuter train to Bruges was late so we got to sit in the station, sip coffee, and watch people coming and going in the afternoon glow. We’ve since watched Hugo, to visit that feeling again. There’s something about a train station.

antwerp clock

antwerp coffee

The train to Bruges moved along at a snail’s pace, past Ghent and several other small towns. Medieval architecture sprung from the skyline, like pillars of inspiration.

In Bruges we found the bus to our AirBnB and sat for the 10 minute ride to our new hood. It was a quiet little street, with several homes sporting sculpted gardens. Our place came with two bikes that we rode into town for groceries and dinner. We rode home in the dark, feeling alive and quite free.

bruges garden

In Bruges, we walked down narrow streets, and from time to time could see the spires of one of several church steeples. We managed a stop at each.

entering bruges

 

There’s something about these old churches. Structures that are built over centuries, over generations. Who had the original concept? How did it change as time changed, as wars were fought, as sons died, as children became adults, and they too died.

Someone suggested that we see the Colin Ferrell movie In Bruges. I’d tried it some years back and didn’t make it very far. I found Ferrell’s constant negativity hard to swallow, but in the movie’s defense, the photography is stunning. There are shots from the water, from towers. It’s really a great overview of the city. And there’s a seriously twisted relationship between Ferrell and the guy who played Mad-Eye Moody in Harry Potter movies.

What I didn’t see was the well-developed retail scene. As we approached the city our first day we saw shoppers carrying bags from the well-known shops you might see in San Francisco, Milan, or Rome. There were great little cafes, cobble-stone streets plazas, bicycles nestled in ivy. Reflections in the water,and church towers framed by a maddening sky.

ivy bike

 

church and sky Bruges

We had a snack at the Pigeon House. Great little stop for local color. They honor the pigeons who race from as far away as Spain, all the way back to Belgium. The bird is stamped into chocolate medallions.

pigeon house

Speaking of which, Belgian waffles. We only had one, but what a treat. We sat in the back of a little cafe, watched what a nearby table was eating and ordered what they had, one waffle with creme fresh and dark chocolate. The waffle was large but light. We filled a corner with cream and another with chocolate. We took our time. We shared. Donna took her spoon, and with the delicacy of a fine surgeon poured a teaspoon full of chocolate and ate it in one bite.

I gotta say that the town held me from the first steps. Narrow streets, cool old doors, and canals.

bruges red door

bruges square

One afternoon we were drawn to a bridge by a sound that I couldn’t place. It was musical, like a steel drum, but nuanced with a humming sound. We came across this troubadour playing a Hang Pan and blowing into a diggerydo. He provided a sound that seemed both primitive and contemporary all at once. Since our return we hear Hangman on our streaming stations just about every day.

 

I could go on and on about Bruges, but our next stop is Paris. So you gotta move on.

Copenhagen 

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I read a lot of blog posts before arriving here but was still surprised by the vibrancy of this city. The people are fit and friendly. The metro runs fast and smooth deep beneath the city. The terminals and escalators are sleek and clean. 

We found a small, quiet restaurant in the Norrebro neighborhood. The restaurant, called Gonzo, was lit with candles and hosted by a young woman who made us feel right at home. We met an expat from Iran who seconded a tip we received on the Metro about going to Louisiana. Not the state in the US but the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art which is 45 minutes north of Copenhagen on the coast. We are visiting it today, with our friend Lisbeth who lives in Christianshavn. 

On day two we did the stroll through Nyhavn which felt like an upscale Fishermans Wharf in our San Francisco. The buildings are colorful, the tour boats are spacious and the beer was flowing. We kept walking. 


We wandered through Christiania, a neighborhood with lots of graffiti, people enjoying a good meal at outdoor food stands and Cannabis for sale in a street fair environment. No photography allowed but I grabbed a graffiti shot as we left. 

And on the way home from our 31st anniversary dinner we used restrooms at the metro stop. 

Restroom in metro looks like art museum.

Chilly Birds With My Lovely

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We hadn’t been to Sacramento’s Yolo Bypass Wildlife Area, for birding, the past couple of years.  It’s a dream come true in the right conditions, and yesterday was one of those days.  At 4 pm the temperature was around 44 degrees, damp, with just enough of a breeze to send the wind through my jeans. Glad we brought the Rav4, since the road was rutted with plenty of potholes and slippery with mud.

There were Snow Geese, Black Neck Stilt, Northern Shoveler, Pintale, Cinnamon Teal, Common Egret, Great Blue Heron, a murmuration of Starling, Coot, Canada Geese, Red Shouldered Hawk (though we had misidentified it before running into some locals with expensive glass who let us peep through their spotting scopes.) There was a Plover I could not identify and at least one Swallow that disappeared before we got a decent look.

We saw a flock of Snow Geese take off maybe 1/2 mile away and right beneath them a storm of rusty shaded ducks took off and filled the sky. Our spotting scope friends said they saw an Eagle swoop in and that’s what spooked the mass.  There’s something about that many birds in one place that fills me with joy.

On our way out we stopped for this sweet little reflection pond.  Back toward the Snow Geese, the sky was strewn with ribbons of migrating birds, going in so many directions.  At one point there was a murmuration of geese, that broke into dozens of Vee formations, some of which flew right over us.

If you’re ever in the area, give yourself time to wander around, and bring mud boots. And remind me to bring more than one set of binoculars, and my Lumix camera with the 600mm lens.