A lot can happen in 48 hours…

Just ask Las Vegas.

Oh, nothing so drastic is happening in my life, I assure you. But I have managed to (almost blindly) stumble onto a writing competition, write a short story inside of 48 hours, and submit it for judgment.

The skinny: The NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Challenge 2016 is a competition to create a 1000 word (or less, but certainly not more) story  in 48 hours – based on 3 thematic criteria submitted to contestants at the beginning of the competition. Contestants are divided into groups, each group having their own criteria. After two challenges, the top 5 in each group will move on. I’m hoping to be part of that Top 5, but I have no idea who I am competing against.

Well, that’s not completely true… I’m competing against a lot of people from around the world.

My group represents 20 different states and 5 countries… of which, I am one of 35. Stiff odds already, but then consider that my group is one of 60. My chances of success are diminishing the more I think about numbers, but what can I do?

I can stop thinking about the numbers.


The fact of the matter is this:

Someone handed me a list of requirements and said, “Hey. Write a story with this stuff in it. Oh, and it’s due in 48 hours.” And I did exactly that. I reached into my brain and pulled out what I think is a pretty good story – especially for the circumstances. I can control nothing else in the situation, so I’m not going to stress about it. I’m going to wait, and I’m going to see what my score is when it comes back.

The optimist in me says, “Hey, you wrote another story. You’ve already won!” I’m going to run with that.

Another Page Torn from the Calendar…

Happy Indie Authors Day!

And happy July!

Well, happy for everyone but the Intercalary. Their ranks have been cut in half now. As if that wasn’t bad enough, not only are they dealing with a supernatural killer, they have a traitor in their midst only making things worse. But it couldn’t possibly get any worse for them, could it?

Maybe not. Maybe everything will be okay. Maybe, for once, things won’t fall apart and the lines between good and bad won’t blur to the point of confusion. Maybe just this once, friends won’t be revealed as monsters, hiding behind kind eyes and warm smiles.

Maybe somewhere else, that could totally happen. But if you’ve been reading At Calendar’s End up to this point, I’m sure you have a decent idea of what’s coming.

Click the picture to visit July on Amazon.July_Final