Skip to main content

A Photograph

This is a picture of my mother. She was either in high school or junior high. I'm not sure how old she is in the picture. She's the second girl from the left (your left) standing next to the tallest girl. My aunt is younger than my mother by a year or two. She stands third from the right and is wearing white shoes. I put this photograph here because I could probably write a story about what is (or might be) going on in the picture, especially since I don't know anything about the hows, wheres, or whys.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. But how many words are in a story?

Popular posts from this blog

First Pages Prize official longlist.

My novel, The Gatherer, made the longlist for the First Pages Prize:  www.firstpagesprize.com/longlist-2021 You can find the shortlist here: www.firstpagesprize.com/shortlist-2021

Somewhere a Dog Barked

Link: "Somewhere a Dog Barked" Pick up just about any novel and you'll find a throwaway reference to a dog, barking in the distance. By Rosecrans Baldwin: "As a reader of novels and not much else, I keep a running list of authorial whims. Male writers of the Roth/Updike generation, for example, love the word cunt . Also, where novelists once adorned their prose with offhand French bon mots , Spanish now appears. Here's another: Novelists can't resist including a dog barking in the distance."

Enough

I might regret doing this, but here it is: "enough." I wrote this poem during the first lock down in Melbourne, Australia in (the soon to be historical) 2020. I sent the poem out to a variety of publications, only for it to not get published. I nearly sent it to The Melbourne Writer's Group, but I had a conversation with my brain, who said, "hey... everyone else hated it, so they will hate it too". So... anyway... I am putting it here. If I don't put it here now, I will have to wait until 2070 before this poem becomes mildly interesting again, and only as an artifact of this moment in time. Also... this is for the last of the revolutionaries... and the first sandwich thief... and the gummy-bear man. Yeah, you know who you are. If you're one of these people and you hate this, then... go... eat some cheese. Enough After seven hours on your feet, you still make time to pack someone else’s tomorrow’s lunch. You feed your children or your parents, because: li...