Have you ever left a comment on someone’s blog saying “I love this!” or “This really moved me!” or “I wish I had written that!” or “Lovely post!” or “Big hugs and lots of love!” or “Just…wow!” without actually having read the post? Or worse – said those things while really not liking the post…
Fiction / Literature / Short Story / Writing
When Jeremy was ten, he grew a lot of facial hair. His parents ignored it. His brothers ignored it. But children at school whispered, and wondered: what’s wrong with this guy? Close to eleven, Jeremy fell off his bike. A car ran over his leg, breaking it. It took him four months to recover.…
Awards / Blog / Fiction / Literature / Short Story / Writing
One of those people is me! Hey all, amazingly grateful to have made the longlist for the CBC Short Story Contest. Great to share that space with 30 other writers! Feel free to have a look, there’s a snippet of the story in here too: https://www.cbc.ca/books/literaryprizes/31-writers-make-the-2019-cbc-short-story-prize-longlist-1.5071124 I will say, this story is a bit unique.…
Fiction / life / Literature / Short Story / Writing
((I was asked about this story by a few people, reread it, and felt – as usual – that I didn’t even remember writing it! But here it is again, a strange story about a man and a woman, and a baby)) —————————————————————————————————————————————– Anne wasn’t hit by a bus. She was standing still, staring…
Fiction / Literature / Short Story / Writing
The moment of birth is a tangle of wires. “Ouch!” I cry, but the scientists are sleeping. They’re on their chairs, slumped on desks. “Over here!” I yell. Awareness sucks. I look around, dying for a beer. Beer? So many varieties. Can’t taste any, though. “Wake up!” I scream. An hour…
Anyway, it’s not like I’ve never gotten a parcel before, it’s just that this is the type where you keep going back to the mailbox to see if it’s arrived. Like, every day. “Roland, shit. Stop with the mailbox and read this paper with me.” Uncle splays his legs on the step so…
Riley looked up the flight of stairs and said, “I can climb those.” But her mom said, “Riley, no, you could fall! You’re too young!” But up Riley climbed, until she got to the top. Then she looked down and said, “I can climb back down.” And down she went. …
Here, Grandma. Play your banjo. “No way, child. There’s witches on the briar And a cod on the fridge. They’re out back brewing Syrup thick as pigs.” Here, Grandma. Let me stop the wagon “There’s the house. Inside I go. Oh! Cousin Jimmy! Why you naked like that?” “Cheers, Mabel.…
Marg dances. Old sagging bones shudder, rags as well. I opened my door for this? I invite her in, but she pulls me outside. I don’t want to go to her apartment, but that’s where we are. Marg is a hoarder. Every part of the apartment is full. We travel the maze,…
In a field full of garbage, when you stoop to retrieve an aluminum can with your lips, you taste a little of what once was in there. What you taste is not what you buy, though. For EEEE, the field is behind him, but he remembers. He remembers makeshift boots made of…
The sack of mangosteen falls to the ground and a fruit rolls out. Farel slams it with a rock and scoops out the rind, more sweet than oranges. Sweating on the ground, under the shade of trees in the noontime sun. Evergreens bend with more fruit. Next to him, a broad leaf. He moves it…
Hey all, Hope you’re all doing well. Just wanted to link to this blog, the Independent Writers Podcast: https://theindependentwriterspodcast.wordpress.com/2018/02/19/episode-1/ On the first episode, there’s a link to a podcast of a story I wrote a long time ago called “Pickle” (https://trentlewin.com/2016/03/29/pickle/). It’s crazy when someone else reads your story out loud, it’s like a different…
