The Sunday Flash Fiction Story (26 August 2012)

Today begins a new publishing tradition here at the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette.  It is the start of The Sunday Flash Fiction Story

How’s everyone doing?

The publication of guest writers the first week of every month is now well established.  I will be showcasing the work of two new guest writers the first week of September.

Now I think I will add another tradition: the publication of a story by the Old Soldier (that’s me) from the archives every Sunday for your reading pleasure.  I think there are enough stories of mine in the archives to keep you entertained every Sunday for a long time.

Now, without further ado,  here is the first installment of the new series: The Sunday Flash Fiction Story.

*****

Schenley Park

Two kinds of fish swam in the muddy water. The bright orange fish were nearly a foot long and stayed near the surface while the much smaller dark fish darted about lower down, only coming to the surface to feed as the seventeen-year-old boy threw the last pieces of bread into the water and then slid the sandwich bag into the pocket of his jeans. Squirrels and robins drank at the water’s edges as they searched for food, the muddy water barely cresting at and flowing into a rusty grate. The boy thought, but where is the source of the water and where are the two ducks? He looked around at the green, wooded park surrounding the water, but he did not hear or see the ducks. Sitting down on one of the sun warmed stone benches, the boy began to daydream about his future…

He wondered how long the young woman had been standing there. He wondered how long she’d been standing there watching him like that. She walked over and sat down beside him on the stone bench in the afternoon sun.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hello,” he said.

She said, “You were a thousand miles away.”

“I come here to think,” he said. “I start Pitt in the fall.”

“Oh,” she said. “I’m a grad student there. I’ll be in my final year in the fall.”

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like it? Yes I like it. I love it.”

He saw her look toward the water.She took a deep, ragged breath. “It’s not very big,” she said. “I could throw a rock over it.” She looked at him. “So, what do you want to be?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he said.

“I know what I want to be. I’m doing it now. I’ve always known since I was a little girl. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to be. Now I have to make a decision.” She looked out at the water again. “You work at something so hard for so long and it’s so close and nothing’s ever guaranteed and you may never get this chance again but you have to pay a price, a price you don’t want to pay.”

He studied her face. She was still looking at the water. He looked to see what she was seeing.

She said, “What’s your name?”

“Sal,” he said. “Sal Rondenelli.”

“Do you have a girlfriend, Sal?”

“Not really.”

“Well,” she said, “one day you will. And you’ll really care about her a lot. It’s wonderful when you care about someone. It’s even more wonderful when that person cares about you. And you would never want to do anything to hurt that person. Never.”

He looked at her.

She turned her face to him.She said, “Sometimes you care so much for that person that life feels so good, so sweet it’s almost like a dream and you never, ever want to wake up. Ever. But it’s not a dream. It’s real. It’s so real that it seems what you thought you had control over really has control over you. You try to be careful and you try to be smart but sometimes that’s not good enough. Sometimes you have to be lucky, too.” She turned her face back to the water and said, “Or unlucky.” She stood up. She reached her hand down to him. “Well, Sal, good luck.”

He held her hand. He said, “Maybe I’ll see you on campus.”

She smiled down at him.

He liked her smile. He released her hand. She turned and walked away. He stood up and watched her walk deeper into the park. He kept watching until she was gone. When Sal turned back to the muddy water the two ducks were paddling side by side.

The End

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Behind The Scenes (May 26, 2012)

The Old Soldier just came back from a lovely walk around the neighborhood.  It’s hot as hell out there; but I guess I’d better get use to it.  I know I’m not going to heaven.

Hello, everyone from North and South America, Europe, the Middle East, Asia and Africa.  And a special hello to fans in Japan.

The Old Soldier lives in Oakland, the same neighborhood that the main campus of the University of Pittsburgh is in.  I graduated from Pitt with an MFA in fiction writing in 2006; and today I did something that I haven’t done in at least one year.  I walked through Wesley W. Posvar Hall. 

Wesley W. Posvar Hall, University of Pittsburgh

Wesley W. Posvar Hall, University of Pittsburgh (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

There’s a plaque on top of a pole outside the building: Barney Dreyfuss (1865-1932) Owner of the Pittsburgh Pirates, 1900-1932, and legendary baseball leader influential in initiating the first modern World Series, 1903.  He led the Pirates to 6 National League and 2 World Series titles and was vital to building Forbes Field here, 1902.

But the Old Soldier is getting ahead of his story.  When I left my apartment I walked deeper into Oakland, pass the Carnegie Museum of Natural History and the Carnegie Museum of Art, pass the library then on into Schenley Park. 

Man, was it hot outside.  I had a bottle of frozen water with me and I sipped on that as I walked deeper into the park, pass Phipps Conservatory and Botanical Gardens, into Anderson Playground and on through South Oakland before I ended up inside Wesley W. Posvar Hall.  I had the entire building to myself.  The air conditioning felt so good.  I just walked through the building, feeling like a 50-something-year-old grad student and teaching assistant again.  Which I was just a few years ago.

The 1909 Pirates in a poster celebrating their...

The 1909 Pirates in a poster celebrating their National League pennant. Frank Chance of the Chicago Cubs and John McGraw of the New York Giants, two teams the Pirates beat for the pennant, are being made to walk the plank. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Then it was back outside again into the hot sun, back across campus and back to my workstation.

Right now The Doors are on the music television station doing Backdoor Man.

*****

Keep reading and keep writing that flash fiction.  Click the follow button to make sure you get every issue of the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette.  It’s free.

Flash Fiction: Is Revision Necessary?

The Alumni Hall at the University of Pittsburg...

Image via Wikipedia

I read a lot of flash fiction stories by students when I taught short story writing as a grad student at the University of Pittsburgh in 2005.  And I have read a lot of flash fiction stories submitted to this blog.  I got the feeling in 2005 and I get the feeling now that a lot of my students and the writers who submit stories to this blog do not understand the importance of revision in writing the very short story.

Revision is very important.

Revision can be the difference between a so-so story and a good story.  Remember, revision is about many things: clarity, the right word in the right place, flow, spelling, grammar, punctuation, removing unnecessary words and so on.

Just because a flash fiction story is short does not mean it does not need revision.  Creative writing is a process of adding and subtracting until nothing more needs to be added and nothing more needs to be taken away.

A flash fiction story usually needs to go through several revisions before it can do everything that flash fiction can do.

Never Start A Story This Way

Varsity Walk

Image via Wikipedia

Novice writers often make this mistake.  Don’t you make it.

Hello hello hello, my brother and sister bloggers, creative writers and Flash Fiction Fanatics.  When I was teaching at the University of Pittsburgh as a grad student I was thankful that none of my writing students turned in a short story that began with the protagonist waking up in bed and thinking about life.

And don’t you do it either.  Doing it is the equivalent of having dead air on the radio.  It’s the equivalent of starting a one hundred-yard dash standing straight up instead of being done in the starting blocks.  It’s the equivalent of waiting for a bus with a group of other people and then when the bus arrives you get on the bus and only then start searching for your bus fare instead of getting on the bus with your money in your hand.

Don’t do it.

Click on the Ebook tab at the top of the page to download your copy of Compressionism: The Pittsburgh Stories.

Paying The Rent

It’s a windy Sunday around 1:15pm.  I have a load of clothes in the washer in the laundry room downstairs.  The apartment building is pretty quiet.  I’m drinking beer and watching the Giants on TV.  The Steelers don’t come on until 4:15pm.  Hopefully, I’ll be able to send in a rent payment this week.  I don’t even know how many months I’m behind in my rent; but when I get my first social security check in December I’ll be able to pay my rent every month.  Things are bad.  I keep going to these job interviews but I still don’t have a job.  The economy is bad.  I’m proud that I got my MFA in writing from Pitt in 2006 but so far it hasn’t done me much good.

GHH

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