CategoryCreative Writing

The following is an observation I jotted down in my Evernote after witnessing an intriguing family at the grocery store. This entry is direct from my personal journal.

The following is a story sketch I wrote for my daughter who loves dinosaurs. In the end, I felt that the story was too long and perhaps a little too dark for a four-year-old, but it was good story practice and good fun to write. I hope you get a kick out of it.

Starting a new story can be difficult, especially if you have no idea who or what you want to write about. Sometimes, to get the creative juices flowing, I use the technique of starting an impromptu conversation with myself. The idea is to snatch up some attitude or characteristic, then like a snow ball, roll it around for a while and see if you can't start to build a complete snow man — er...

It’s six o’clock in the little town of Layton, Utah. The sun has already set and the sky is covered with a seeming endless coat of dark clouds. On Main Street, at a small bus stop, sits a woman in a purple windbreaker. Her short, curly hair is newly dyed the blackish-red color of old blood. She is nearly fifty, bent forward, looking down at her off-brand sneakers, wrapping herself with her arms...

You are reading part IV of this periodical. Click here to read part III. That evening, as the other zombies harass a broken-down Ford Explorer full of an unfortunate group of survivors, and the chirping of crickets mingle with the moans of the dead, Fred and Tiffany stroll shoulder to shoulder down the street. Fred had thought for a long time how to say what he needed to say to Tiffany, but he is...

You are reading part III of this periodical. Click here to read part II. Fred blinks, trying to decide if he is seeing things. Is this really Tiffany here before him, sharing the flesh of the same corpse? Dare he believe his rotting eyes? But there she sits, and here he sits, and — what is he waiting for? “Tee-fee-nee…” Fred mumbles, hardly audible over the slopping of meat and the snorting...

Hello you. Here is a short story sketch I wrote about a Pygmalion-like character with some twists on the original myth. I hope you enjoy it. Giroff spread the crinkling blinds and peered down on a group of friends passing under his window. His eyes were bloodshot and the flesh around them was swollen and an ugly shade of purple. He stared at the young friends—not so young, maybe not even younger...