Tag Archives: word-for-word

Peer Review

in the throes of flash fiction contest
limit: 1000 words
time remaining: mere hours
genre: horror
with co-entrant Beret via gchat

Gina: I’m at 1100 and only one person is dead. and he was already dead

Beret: Obviously we have the start of longer stories we will have to do another day, in all of our extra time

Beret: in the meantime. CRAP

Gina: Maybe I’ll cut a character. One fewer to kill

Beret: I have fantasy. I don’t even have anything magical yet.

Gina: you should end with: “and he lived happily ever after”. now give me an ending and we’re all set

Beret: ok. “he dies”

Gina: all the hes are already dead. there are only shes left

Beret: well don’t kill them. maybe they become part of the evil machine

Gina: I’m at 1100 words. there is no time to assimilate, only maybe to die

Gina: maybe they die of word count

Beret: well cut 108 words, and then say: “and then they all died spontaneously and forever”

Beret: I’m helpful





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Filed under festive activities, struggles, writing

Gina and Scott Continue to Be Geniuses

The Saga Of Jennifer

A horse name named Jennifer Lopez arrived at noon.  “Goodness,” moaned Jennifer Santiago, “I hope you still plan on changing those slippers.”  Suddenly, Jennifer Lopez recalled her mother, Gilda.  She wouldn’t have worn new slippers to Nevada either.

By Gina and Scott, alternating words.

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Filed under east coast posse


“Do you smell that?”  she asks.  The customs line isn’t too long.  We’re moving quickly.


“Yes,” she says.  “It smells like  – hope.”

“Smells like hope?”

“Yes.  I smell hope.”

She is silent.  Happy.

I ponder.  Hope?  This line of tourists, eager to be stamped into Madrid?  The Spanish arrivals, giddy at returning home?  A commentary on American and European politics?  But then –

“Oh.  Those people there, smoking indoors?”

“Yes,” she says.  And beams.

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Filed under abroad

In Which Scott is not Helpful

AIM IM with Scott  7/12/09  6:03 PM:

Scott: What are you doing?  I am writing a syllabus.  And then I have to make a poster.

Me: I’m about to go to dinner.  I will probably cry at the end of it.

Scott:  Aw, you can do it.

Scott: Yay tears!

Scott: Just think of the song “Tears of a clown.”

Scott: Not that you are a clown.

Scott: It just makes me smile.

Scott: It’s rather upbeat for a song about tears.

Scott: Point: tears can be happyish.

Me: You know how I feel about clowns.

Scott: Sort of happy.

Scott: Did I say clown?  I meant …

Scott: Tears of a clone.

Scott: Don’t look it up.

Scott: do doo doo

Scott: bah bah bah bah bah bah bah

Scott: Tears of a clooone

Scott:  My clone is always crying because she is unoriginal.

Scott: bah bah bah bah bah bah bah

Me: I’m copying all this for my blog, you know.  I will title it, “Scott is Unhelpful.”

Scott: UNhelpful?

Me:  Yup.

Me: In an adorable way?

Scott: Eh, I’ll take it.

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Filed under east coast posse

Stupid Goodbyes Ruining Everything

Me: If you read my outgoing text messages, it sounds like I’m having a really fun week.

Beret: What do you mean?

Me: Well, from yesterday: “At Bardot-a-go-go.  French cover of Avril Levigne playing.  ‘Ay! Ay! Tu! Tu!'”.   And tonight: “Carrie Fisher just stuffed confetti down my cleavage.”

Beret: Well, you are having a fun week.

Me: I guess.

Beret: Except for the … you know, crying.  And the packing.  And the leaving.

Me: Except for that.


Filed under struggles

Three Conversations With Beret

One:  on the phone.

I am packing.

Me: I am watching the Clean House marathon to inspire me.

Beret: I don’t know what that is.

Me: You are missing out.  It’s totally helping me purge.

Beret: I have a pretty hard time getting rid of stuff I think I might use again someday.

Me: I used to –  but I am getting so good!  I am amazing!  I am totally getting rid of everything I won’t need this year!  I am your impressive friend that keeps nothing that is not immediately useful!

Beret: What about the ten boxes of stuff you’re storing indefinitely in my basement?

Me: That’s different.

Two: at the bar

Beret’s five year old has lice.

Well, it has to happen.  All little kids get lice at some point.

Beret: I’m tired of vacuuming.  And bagging.  And combing.  It’s awful.

Me: It’s like a rite of passage.  It just happens.  You hang out with other little kids, everyone passes it around.

Beret: I never had them.

Me: Actually, I never did either.

Beret: So –

Me: Of course, I didn’t really have any friends when I was a little kid.

Beret: … oh.  Yeah.  Me either.

(Long tragic pause.  Another round of cocktails is ordered.)

Three:  on the phone

I am packing.

:  Ok, I need help. You watched Clean House yesterday, right?

Beret: Yeah, but I had to turn it off.  It was too disgusting.

Me:  Ok, well.  You get the point at least.

Beret: Get rid of stuff.

Me: Yeah!  Especially if it’s not useful.

Beret: Yeah!

Me: Ok, so here’s my problem.  I have these boxes of souvenir type stuff.  And I’m tempted to just get rid of it all.  I mean, I don’t want kids, I haven’t opened them in, like, a decade.  What’s the point?

Beret: I hear you.

Me: Really – why do I need some of this stuff?  Is anyone in my life ever going to care that I have a prop from each play I was in in college?

Beret: Ooooooh, you have that?  That’s so wonderful!

Me: … you are not going to be helpful in this process, are you?

Beret: Probably not.

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Filed under learnings