A big thanks to Squawk Back, and its editorial overlord, Zak Block, for publishing a flash fiction piece of mine in Squawk Back 126:
I wrote this a long time ago–maybe some of my new friends will enjoy reading it.
Originally posted on Treehouse:
When I found the postcard from Remy beneath my bed I immediately wrote him at the return address. Mama immediately questioned my judgment.
“He doesn’t live in Paris,” she said as she reached for her coffee from behind her morning read. “He might still be out on the ranch, there in the hills.”
“Yes, near Bordeaux,” I replied. “That’s where he wrote the postcards from.” My mother lowered her book to the table and looked me in the eye.
“That was nearly ten years ago, Andre. Since before your father passed. He won’t recognize you even if you do manage to track him down.”
“Papa loved him,” I reasoned. “So do you, ma. Remy is blood.” But she wasn’t looking at me anymore. Her gaze was elsewhere, unfocused and lost outside the kitchen window. We were quiet for a while after that.
I left for France the next…
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I’m reblogging this, something I don’t usually do, because I think it needs wider exposure. Bravo, Nick–an excellent work of flash fiction.
Originally posted on Touchstones:
by Nicholas DiClementi
I was 9 years old when I first saw a dead body. It was late autumn, and the chilled wind blowing off the Appalachians scattered the leaves that had been covering the old man’s arms as I poked in the mud with a broken stick, digging for worms. I cannot remember how I felt then. The days that followed were freckled with police officers, news reports, interviews, and therapist visits. The old man later identified as Richard Greene, a retired shopkeeper, had apparently died during his evening walk and the autumn breeze had covered him up. I mostly forgot about the experience not long after.
Living with your parents as an adult is not as bad as they make it out to be. Dad still cooks like a demon and mom’ll chat your ear off but she’s always good for some insight. The melancholy comes at…
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The folks at Chicago Literati were kind enough to publish a creative non-fiction piece of mine in “The Wanderlust Issue.” I wrote this piece after returning from a wedding–a beautiful, candid, touching wedding–where I had the opportunity to dance and drink and be weird with some of my closest friends. And of course, this piece was also inspired by Great Expectations and Candide, books I recently read for the first time.
Please enjoy “Windswept,” an early short story of mine that I’ve made available here in its entirety. This piece was originally published in Nib Magazine (now defunct).
A sharp jolt of pain shot from his pinned arm and froze him at the top of a lingering breath, where a flash of his son’s smile, his wife’s face, and the color of the girl’s touch were waiting like a mirage; but they were loath to stay and quickly turned to black as the pain eased its grip on Ernie’s nerves, allowing a final bounty of oxygen to leave his lungs and dissipate into the night air like a quick puff from a cigarette.
Write something deep-down, heartfelt, true, and the world will remember you.
The Prints Project at Pea River Journal is evidence of that. The premise, while it might appear straightforward, has already led to beautifully layered responses from contributors.
Akhmatova, Whitman, Pound, Dickinson, Baraka, Woolf–these are some of the faces that appeared in the mailboxes of contributors (including yours truly) to the Fall 2014 issue of Pea River Journal. The writer’s task: respond. No guidelines. Just respond to whatever the print stirs in you.
Take a moment and read what all of these talented writers have come up with in response to these wonderful prints:
I have a new piece of flash fiction up in the Summer/Fall 2014 issue of Lunch Ticket, the literary journal of the MFA program at Antioch University Los Angeles:
If you’ve read the piece and feel like engaging me with feedback, critique, or other such things, please do so in the comments section below, or by email. I look forward to reading the rest of the work in this issue, and send many thanks to the editors of Lunch Ticket.
A short story of mine, “East to Asheville and the Hut on Chicken Legs,” was recently published in the 2014, print issue of pacificREVIEW. If you care to read it, click the link below and get yourself a copy.
A special shout to Jacquelyn Phillips for working with me to bring the best out of this piece.
P.S. Stay tuned to some upcoming publications, including short fiction in Timber Journal and the June issue of Lunch Ticket.
Below, you will find an unabridged copy of a complaint that I sent to Delta Airlines after a recent flight from Atlanta to San Diego (I’ve added some formatting for readability, formatting that was unavailable on the Delta complaint form). Consider this my open letter to the airline industry, in response to its practice of taking choice out of its customers hands.
Authors and Illustrators wild about kids' lit!
Champion of the Indies
A Journal of Historical Fiction
UC Berkeley's oldest prose journal, publishing short fiction since 1982.
a roominghouse for the servants of the duende.
Be Well. Write Well. Read Well.
Modern fiction, it's often said, is merely competent. Here's to some "incompetent" fiction.
In the Empire of Surrender
(Somewhat) Daily News from the World of Literary Nonfiction