If you've never listened to NPR's This I Believe, you just might be missing something. Maybe.
What do I believe?
I believe in persistence, for one thing. I believe the underdog fights harder because he/she has something to prove. I believe in rewrites.
I believe I'm ready to start revising Loathsome, Dark and Deep. This past week, I finished "The Unfortunate Persistence of Harold Francis Beamish" (yes, I changed his name); it's my most Joe R. Lansdale-style tale (think "Stepping Out, Summer 68"). Let's just say the man they hit on that lonesome country road was already undead and stays that way.
“I wanna go home, man,” Bobby whined.
“I know…I know.” Darren rubbed his sore knee and suddenly snapped his head to one side.
“Listen,” Darren whispered.
I wonder what he heard?
I've also finished two flash pieces since last week, and I'm mulling markets for them. One, "Sometimes They Come Back" is a rumination by a librarian. Yes, he/she is speaking of overdue books. Of course, these books are different. The other, "Billy Boy", is a (hopefully) haunting piece about a missing child. From "Billy Boy":
The game was Billy’s idea.
We built a circular wall of boxes in the storeroom of one of the anchors to the mall, the largest building on the south end. In our circle, our sanctuary, we told stories, we pushed our imaginations to the blackened corners of that space to flirt with spiders and dust. Our stories grew arms and legs, fingers and eyes; they flickered just past our musty cardboard fortress.
We made monsters, and Billy was the best.