by Thomas Kearnes

It doesn’t seem like that long. Of course, it helps that I’ve had a consistent stream of flash stories publishing throughout the fall. The last of them, “Boob Patrol,” debuted in The Dead Mule last month. But it’s true: I haven’t written a flash story in over six months. I haven’t been entirely quiet, of course. I have written new work, but the shortest story was still well over 3,000 words.

Why this silence? Especially when things were going so well for me on the publication front? (Of the 14 flashes I work-shopped in the first part of this year, all but two of them have found homes.) Frankly, I had reached a point in my flash career that I was happy with what I’d accomplished. True, I’m nowhere near my ultimate goal of publishing a chapbook of my flash, but this year has brought other welcome and often unexpected triumphs.

I managed to find swell homes for several flashes I had originally abandoned or doubted would do well. Indeed, I’ve even published a couple of flashes that on reflection I might have been wiser to keep in the discard pile—they’re simply not good enough to carry my name. There were two appearances earlier in the fall that pleased me especially: “A Reason to Live” in Knee-Jerk and “Derek Needs Me Tonight” in LITnIMAGE. What was most gratifying about these appearances was the fact that I proved to these venues’ readers and others that dialogue-driven, “slice-of-life” flash could be just as compelling and artful as the more trendy types of flash fiction. (When I scoured LITnIMAGE’s archives to find the last time the staff had selected a dialogue-driven flash, I had to go back past a few dozen selections, landing somewhere in 2009.)

Alas, my accomplishments in flash fiction, both artistic and professional, were overshadowed, for me at least, by how stagnant my sales record had become in regards to my longer fiction. Thanks to some hearty gay venues, I do have four long stories currently available, and I managed to find mainstream homes for two other long pieces last spring.

But I decided around my 35^th birthday last summer that I would focus solely on long fiction until I had managed to boost my sales record in that discipline to a place comparable with my flash work. I knew this would be difficult. As you all know, there simply aren’t as many venues for long fiction as there are for flash.

Not surprisingly, only one of the long pieces I’ve written since my birthday has found a home. Also surprising no one, this home was the gay venue MLR Press. My other long pieces (two of which feature heterosexual protagonists) have received a smattering of praise from editors, but I’ve yet to clinch a deal on them.

I don’t want to say that flash fiction had started to come easily to me. I still feel that old, sweet terror when I gaze upon a blank white document, cursor blinking madly, whether I plan to write a story that’s 500 words or 5,000. I know, at least academically, that most seasoned fiction writers consider flash to be a harder discipline to master than traditional-length short fiction. Frankly, I’d agree with them. (One of the reasons, I believe, it’s been so easy to eschew writing flash for so long is because one must stretch an entirely different set of mental muscles to develop ideas suited toward flash. Ideas for longer pieces are far easier to come by.)

To be blunt, I’m not sure how badly I desired to be known primarily as a flash writer. Of course, writers I admire a great deal and consider mentors have devoted most of their efforts toward writing flash-length fiction and suffered no loss of esteem among their colleagues and readers. Still, it’s hard to forget the look on the face of an uninitiated reader when I tell him that I’ve published over 60 flashes…and then reveal precisely what a flash story entails. Like it or not, most casual readers believe a writing discipline predicated on such short length must be easy to master, and no amount of persuasion can dislodge that old, tricky prejudice.

Telling a new reader, however, that I’ve collected 20 of my short stories into a 275-page collection wins me a respect from them, even if they never read a word, that my flash collection couldn’t hope to receive, despite the fact it took me far longer to assemble my flash collection than my collection of short fiction. I hate that I feel myself bowing under the pressure of reader ignorance, but there’s no denying that’s what has happened.

Simply put: I believe making a name for myself based on short fiction will win me more acclaim (and, one hopes, readers) than if I tried to do the same on the back of my flash fiction. I have no desire to remain an “unknown” for the length of my career. (And if I finally stop smoking my beloved menthols, that may be another four decades, give or take.) Until flash fiction makes a true and lasting impression on general readers, common sense dictates that reputations built on longer fiction (preferably novels, while we’re being frank) will carry far more weight.

What about all of you? For those of you who also aspire for success in longer forms of fiction, do you sometimes find yourself focusing on longer works for reasons that aren’t entirely artistic? What does having a consistent, respectable run in flash fiction truly mean for an author? I’d love to hear from you

___________________________

Thomas Kearnes is a 35-year-old author from East Texas. He is an atheist and an Eagle Scout. His flash has appeared in PANK, Storyglossia, Night Train, SmokeLong Quarterly, Word Riot, JMWW Journal, wigleaf, The Pedestal, Knee-Jerk, LITnIMAGE, 3 AM Magazine, Thieves Jargon, Underground Voices, Prick of the Spindle and elsewhere. Two of his flash stories, “Girl with Donkey” and “Shame,” have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. He can be reached at trkearnes@yahoo.com.

by John C. Mannone

I am intrigued by questions like “Do you write shorter pieces while you’re writing longer ones?” Though I could focus on the simultaneous writing of short and long pieces, instead I want to examine a different context more likely intended by such a question.

I often hear that when writers are stuck partway through their long piece of prose, they might try writing shorter pieces, like flash fiction or even poetry, in hopes of overcoming their writer’s block or momentary lag. But I take issue with the tacit assumption here — that shorter pieces are easier to write.

Just as in long fiction, short fiction (and poetry) requires a high investment in the creative and revision process. It’s not because shorter forms like flash fiction and poetry are easier to write than longer fiction, but because they stimulate the brain differently. I might even speculate the creation of different neural pathways would develop. But whatever the explanation, it is change in creative outlets that provides the respite and recharging.

So now consider the inversion of the first question, “Do you write longer pieces while you’re writing shorter ones?”  I am compelled to answer this question in the same way with a big “yes.” But as I noted above, it’s not because I’m stuck, but because variety stimulates different parts of the brain and helps produce better quality in both the shorter works (poetry for me) and the longer works (short fiction for me).

Regardless of what kind of creative writing you favor, different kinds of creative writing should be part of your diet. The creative thinking process is different among them. For example, the words in modern poetry are heavily weighted and are rich with nuance in the context of the poem, while the words in prose are deliberately lighter and transparent. They are chosen and arranged to provide a different and valuable view of the story being told. Prose will strengthen your narrative poetry. It did mine because I was sensitive to what prose has brought to my literary table. Though the menu is not necessarily exhaustive, the following items have helped me balance my literary meals.

How can good story help your poetry?

- Some poetry is narrative. And it is this case, in particular, that prose has benefited the poem, namely, by cueing in the poet to pay close attention to the story arc. Most poetry focuses on a slice of life; a moment in time; a place; an observation in nature, or things, or people, and rarely tells a complete story, yet opens the door to one (with the reader’s investment of his/her imagination).

- More and more contemporary poetry (sometimes I think this is an oxymoron) is incorporating dialog. Much can be learned from prose when it is used in poetry. The “he said”/”she said” tags are probably the best in poetry.

How can poetry help your prose?

 - Tightness of language is a hallmark of poetry, even in conversational and anecdotal forms. Language manipulation is a trait of poetry that can greatly benefit prose.

- Metaphor, simile, imagery and other metaphorical language help immerse the reader into the world painted by words.

- Attention to detail and command of language help with descriptions of setting, establishing mood, foreshadowing and characterization.

- Rhythm, best noted by reading the story aloud, is coveted not only for smooth reading, which will advance the story without stumbling, but also for setting the pace (which should vary) by “alerting the ear” to optimum sentence lengths and punctuation.

- Internal rhymes and effective repetitions provide echoes in language, which give body to the story in the same way rich harmonics affect the sound of fundamental chords. This affects things like mood, too, and can help deliver poignancy, pathos, or even humor.

- Sentence fragments, perhaps ubiquitous in poetry, can be effective in some short fiction (like flash fiction), but probably won’t work well in longer fiction, like the short story.

- Poetry empowers prose. The article, “The Power and Purpose of Poetry in Prose,” by Richard Garlikov¹, discloses the interplay between poetry and prose. He demonstrates how historically famous discourses are empowered by poetry.

These comparisons are fine, but might not mean that much to a contemporary poet, who adopts postmodern ideas. For example, consider the introductory words in the essay² called “Prose Based Poetry”:

“When free verse lacks rhythmic patterning, appearing as a lineated prose stripped of unnecessary ornament and rhetoric, it becomes the staple of much contemporary work. The focus is on what the words are being used to say, and their authenticity. The language is not heightened, and the poem differs from prose only by being more self-aware, innovative and/or cogent in its exposition.”

However, I will embrace the wisdom in a Chinese  metaphor from Wu Qiao, an ancient poetry critic³:

“When you write in prose, you cook the rice. When you write poetry, you turn rice into rice wine. Cooked rice doesn’t change its shape, but rice wine changes both in quality and shape. Cooked rice makes one full so one can live out one’s life span . . . wine, on the other hand, makes one drunk, makes the sad happy, and the happy sad. Its effect is sublimely beyond explanation.”

I hasten to add that my own cooking metaphor might be more palatable to prose writers than Wu Qiao’s metaphor. I’ve often said that creating recipes and cooking is another form of poetry. I would be remiss if I did not apply that metaphor to prose, at least to short prose like flash fiction. Together, in the right balance, with the right diet of poetry and prose, the effects can be gourmet. For me, the fine meals are prepared more easily with the ingredients from both genre forms.

¹ http://www.garlikov.com/teaching/style.html

² http://www.textetc.com/modernist/prose-based-poetry.html

³ http://web.whittier.edu/barnstone/ARTOFWRITING.HTM

  ______________________________

John C. Mannone has been nominated three times for the Pushcart (2009 and 2010). His work appears (or is forthcoming) in The Pedestal, Glass, Lucid Rhythms, Prime Mincer, Mobius, Apollo’s Lyre, Pirene’s Fountain, The Medulla Review, Rose & Thorn Journal, Hinchas de Poesía, Earthspeak, Skive and many others. He is the poetry editor for Silver Blade, an adjunct professor of physics in east Tennessee and serves as a NASA/JPL Solar System Ambassador. His first collection of poetry and prose, A Breath of Darkness, will come out in 2012. Visit The Art of Poetry.

by Jim Harrington

Markets Added

• Dirtflask (1,000, quarterly) publishes experimental fiction
• Spinetingler (1,000, weekly) publishes crime, mystery, suspense, thriller, and horror

Editor Interviews Added

• Nailpolish Stories (exactly 25, weekly) publishes literary fiction
• The Molotov Cocktail (1,000, varies) accepts most genre

______________________

Jim Harrington discovered flash fiction in 2007, and he’s read, written, studied, and agonized over the form since. His Six Questions For. . . blog provides editors and publishers a place to “tell it like it is.” He’s also the Markets Editor for Flash Fiction Chronicles’ Flash Markets Page. You can read his stories on his blog. He can be contacted at jpharrin [at] gmail [dot] com.

by Gaius Coffey

A consistent theme in writing books and blogs is the advice to seek out honest feedback. It’s a pretty straightforward argument — if you’d thought there was a problem in your prose, you’d have fixed it, right? So, any remaining problems are problems you cannot see. You cannot fix problems you cannot see, so you recruit somebody who can. A trusted reader.

It’s difficult to imagine any credible objection to that position and the majority of writers pay lip-service to the importance of seeking out good critique.

But what do writers do with that feedback?

When experienced writers talk about critique on forums, they repeatedly assert that it is up to each individual to choose how to respond. After all, some critiques say more about the person making the comment than the work they are talking about. Some advice is not in line with what the writer intends. And, yes, some advice is just wrong. To incorporate every single piece of advice and respond to every criticism is to edge toward madness.

And I have no difficulty with that position either.

But there’s a conflict somewhere in here. The feedback that is most likely to be discarded is the feedback the writer finds hardest to accept. The hardest feedback to accept is likely to be an issue the writer can’t see. And that strikes at the whole purpose of feedback; to highlight issues that the writer can’t see.

It is common for writers to follow a statement about the importance of critique with a caveat about types of critique they ignore. This can take a number of forms;

• “…doesn’t [read my genre / get my work / like my style]…”
• “…not really my target audience…”
• “…they can’t see I was using [technique] deliberately to [something else they missed].”
• “…I switch off when they start quoting [rule]. A good writer knows when to break the rules…”

Insidious statements like these undermine critique even before it is given. They are attractive because there is often a grain of truth in them, but they betray a prejudice on the part of the writer about who is “qualified” to comment on their work. That prejudice makes it too easy to discard opinions without thought.

To benefit from feedback, writers must be open to hearing, and considering, honest opinions about their work. That means respecting readers and accepting that their reactions are valid whether or not they “got” what you were trying to do. But if I am advocating listening to everyone who comments on your work, how do you avoid the spiralling madness of a critique junkie struggling to satisfy conflicting and confusing comments from multiple sources?

To paraphrase Neil Gaiman (point 5, here): Listen to all your readers to find out where the problems are, but use your own judgement to determine if they are valid and how to resolve them if they are.

_________________________________________________________________

Gaius Coffey’s story “Alone, Not Lonely” was shortlisted for the 2010 Fish Publications One-page Story competition. His story “Terry and the Eye” was Every Day Fiction’s most read story in March, 2010. He lives in Dublin with his wife, two cats and a baby daughter; the latter being as much an inspiration to write as an impediment to writing resulting, on balance, in bafflement.

By Matt Potter, editor of Pure Slush which is celebrating its one year anniversary this week!

Like many things in my life, Pure Slush was born as a response to something that pissed me off.*

Initially, it was Halloween 2010.  I did not want to write a Halloween-themed story for the weekly flash fiction challenge I was then taking part in. We don’t celebrate Halloween in Australia. Well, not if you’re Australian. (I have celebrated Halloween at parties here held by American friends, but that’s OK: that’s part of their culture. And I’m their friend, so I’ve celebrated with them, at their homes and at their parties. But hold a Halloween party of my own? No, I would never do that. It’s not part of my culture).

Anyway, coupled with the endless no-replies and bad replies and nonsense-replies and rude replies from editors of fiction websites I had received after my own well-meaning submissions to them, I wanted to see my own values reflected on the web, particularly in fiction (and flash fiction) circles. And I don’t think these values are much different from the values of many other people out there in e-land either.

Courtesy, proper and considered responses, no bullshit (please, no more “your story is just not right for us at the moment, but please consider us again” bullshit! When will it be the right moment? Tomorrow?!)—and so after thinking about this for two months, on a rainy Monday December afternoon, driving home in a summer downpour, gutters and drains overflowing with dirty water, the name Pure Slush came to me (with a nod to Tallulah Bankhead)—and I had the hook to start.

Only half an hour before, after accidentally dropping a packet of spelt pasta on the ground at the Adelaide Central Market (a produce market), I had come up with the name Broken Spelt, which I liked, but it didn’t grab we the way Pure Slush did, with its great sound and multiple references, its linking of class and trash, its fun and its seriousness.

And two days later, on Wednesday December 8^th, 2010, Susan Gibb’s Black Bears and Green Broccoli Trees made its debut in Pure Slush. (I knew enough writers online to ask a few to contribute, and Susan’s came in first.)

What I sought was to redress the rudeness so endemic in this field (if as editor you can’t send a decent reply to a submission because you are simply too busy, then get out of the game); and to see an Australian voice out there in e-land. This is interesting considering more writers on Pure Slush come from North America than anywhere else!  By the time this article is published, only four Australian writers will have been published on Pure Slush so far, and that includes me. More writers from the UK and Europe have appeared on the site than Australians.

But I do think Pure Slush reflects a very Australian attitude: an abhorrence of po-faced pomposity, a marked irreverence often masked as keen humour, and an eclectic taste. It’s a venue for many, many things. Hence the tagline, flash … without the wank.

And credit where credit is due: the original tagline was flash fiction … without the wank. But in Pure Slush’s first week of life, English writer Jo Gatford pointed out that the tagline was funnier without the word fiction, and she was right. So, thanks Jo.

Of course, more than anything, Pure Slush reflects my own taste.

The acceptance rate at Pure Slush is quite high because I actually work as an editor on the site. I am no mere collector or curator of stories. I don’t think you can actually call yourself an editor unless you actually edit: offering suggestions for changes or alternatives or restructures; highlighting (and sometimes very specifically) where a story needs more … or less … or just something different; cutting out the crap to reveal the pearl inside.

Or knowing exactly why a story or poem doesn’t need anything further. Stephen V. Ramey, in a recent Facebook discussion, likened working with me to cutting the story to the bone, then building in the muscle. I think that’s a great—and accurate—analogy. I love creating, and I especially love reworking. (Buying new clothes usually involves some renovation for me: taking off collars or changing buttons and rehemming or dyeing. Yes, I have done a lot of dyeing of clothes, changing dull colours to bright ones, giving clothes something new and extra. And I like to think the stories on Pure Slush are similarly bright and varied.)

This pisses some writers off, this editing. (Email me and I’ll tell you the demographic breakdown, as I see it!) Oh well, too bad, I say. There are many more writers who like working with me because I give them and their work the respect they want: I actually pay attention to them and their work. And I have lost count of those who have said, “Hey, this back and forth was a bit annoying at times but you know, my story really is much better for us working on it together. No one else has done this for me.” It’s their name on the story, but a better story reflects well on all concerned.

To be honest, given the many things I have done in my life, I think I have always been editing, changing things to suit myself, cutting out the middle man and going for the jugular!

I “commission” stories for the site too, which is fun: I get to ask for something quite specific and I am invariably given just what I want. This plays to writers’ strengths—and their egos! And who wouldn’t respond?!

I know Marcus Speh from a writing group I attended when I was living in Berlin, and I asked him to write about his life, actually what it is like being married to people from different cultures. (Marcus’s wife is American, whereas his first wife was Italian. He is German but has lived in a number of countries.) And so he wrote the truly wonderful In the nude about living in Trieste, that small city on the edge of many things. And the story gets hits every day! (A lot of people put the words nude and pure in their online searches, so that helps.)

As for story preferences, Gill Hoffs put it wonderfully well when recently musing what sort of cake Pure Slush would be, given the site is celebrating its first anniversary. A simple recipe, she wrote, with no fancy or frilly icing, but a very strong taste. I could have kissed her; it was so on the money.

If you want to know what Pure Slush seeks or doesn’t seek in stories, there is a page on the site called What Pure Slush wants.

As to favourites on the site, I cannot say I like or love all the stories on the site in equal measure. That is impossible. I do like them all, and see value in them all, but some stories I choose to publish because I think, ah, I like this enough to run it, but others will like it more. So I do think of tastes beyond my own.

But stories I love on the site? I am misty-eyed as I type this, but they are generally stories I have asked writers to write because I know the writers personally, as in in person, or writers I would love to meet in person because of their stories. So, here is a roll call of just some, fiction and non-fiction:

I have a background in Social Work (though am currently teaching English as a Second Language), but much of my social work career was spent working in publicity and promotions, so promoting Pure Slush, while a constant task, is second nature. I am always surprised other sites do not do more promotion, given there are thousands out there. And I promote all stories equally. Hence the spin about turning one. But I like to think that, while I recognize it as spin, there is meaning in it too.

You can keep up to date with all that is happening at Pure Slush by going to The Latest.Themes change monthly and the site has just released its first print edition, slut.

*Author’s Note: after reading this article, if you think the author is a bit of a shit, well … yeah, you are probably right. He is a bit of a shit.

If you’re new to the submissions game, trying to find markets that might fit your work can seem like an impossible task. How do you learn your way around an arena as vast and varied as the world of literary magazines? Mostly, it just takes a lot of time and research, but if you’re looking for some tips on how to get started, I’ve compiled some of my advice below.

• Read the year-end anthologies. Of course it’s important to support your favorite journals by subscribing, but if you’re strapped for cash, reading the Pushcart Prize volumes or books from the Best American series is a great way to get to know a lot of magazines for one price of admission.
• Look for themed journals or special issues. Some magazines theme issues by geographical location or subject matter. Looking for a journal with a theme that fits your story can be a great way to learn about new magazines. If you’re looking to find one, Duotrope has a handy theme calendar that’s a good place to start.
• Don’t just read the magazine, read the bio pages too. When you’re first learning your way around, author bio pages are a great way to find comparable magazines. You already know you like the magazine you’re reading, and other journals that have published the same writers are likely to have a similar vibe.
• Stalk your favorite writers. If you stumble upon a writer whose work you would liken to your own, see if they have a website or list of pubs somewhere. You can target the same magazines and guess that the editors who liked their stories are more likely to enjoy yours as well.
• Talk to your writer-friends. This may seem obvious, but sometimes we’re coy about the submissions process. Don’t be afraid to share information about where you’re submitting and why. Everyone benefits from this kind of knowledge sharing.
• Finally, when deciding where to send your work, be clear about your goals. This is a really important step and one that’s often overlooked. Where you send your stories should depend largely on what you want to achieve. If you’re looking to get a fancy teaching job, you should sub to top print journals. But if your priority is readership, web-based venues are a better bet.

Those of you who have been submitting for a while, how did you learn your way around the literary landscape?

_________________________________

Aubrey Hirsch is a native of Cleveland, Ohio. You can find her work in journals like American Short Fiction,  Third Coast, Hobart, SmokeLong Quarterly, The Los Angeles Review, PANK and Annalemma. Her first book, Why We Never Talk About Sugar, a collection of short stories, will be published in the spring of 2012.  Her posts appear regularly in this spot the first Monday of every month.

by Jim Harrington

Markets Added

• TheNewerYork (1,500, annual) publishes stories written in forms (obits, want ads, etc.)
• Withersin ($, 750, 3x/yr) publishes sci-fi, fantasy, & horror

Editor Interviews Added

• micrososms ($, 140 characters, weekly) publishes Twitter poetry

______________________

Jim Harrington discovered flash fiction in 2007, and he’s read, written, studied, and agonized over the form since. His Six Questions For. . . blog provides editors and publishers a place to “tell it like it is.” He’s also the Markets Editor for Flash Fiction Chronicles’ Flash Markets Page. You can read his stories on his blog. He can be contacted at jpharrin [at] gmail [dot] com.

by Gay Degani

I do a lot of writing about structure and how it can help a writer shape a piece of writing.  I’m not saying that every work of prose or drama will end up with a strictly defined adherence to  Aristotle’s Poetics, however, I believe that being aware of the principles of the three-act structure will benefit most writers trying to sort through and refine any piece of writing.

But I don’t even want to talk about that, really.  I want to explain how that knowledge of basic structure helps me get through my own petty daily struggles because it does.  Especially, the dark moment.

Let me recap.  The three-act structure en simplistica.

• Act 1
• Introduce characters and setting
• Create internal and external story problems
• Something large or small throws main character into a need for action
• Act 2A
• Main character comes up with an easy solution: takes path of least resistance
• Realizes it won’t work: Epiphany for main character (self knowledge)
• Struggles against obstacles, both internal and external
• Midpoint
• Recognizes enemies
• Comes to a pleasant accord with main relationship
• Act 2B
• With help from main relationship bond and recognition of enemy, a new struggle.
• All is failing: Dark Moment (surrender)
• Renewed commitment to goal or to a new better goal
• Act 3
• Lead up to final battle
• Final battle
• Win or lose

Why am I bringing this up? Because life is like a movie.

On Wednesday night of this week,we lay in bed listening to the wind rattle the windows, whip and swoop down our chimney, trees scratch against the house. I worried because I’d never heard anything like it here before.  We live after all in LA-LA land where a little rain will send people squealing around every corner at top speed with their mouths a big O as they go over the curb or  herding a family of snails down the middle of the street. We debated if we should get up and lay down our patio umbrellas.

I didn’t want to do it. At first I was optimistic, exactly like the main character would be in the first part of a book, movie, and short story. Then  I remembered that, when fiction characters take the path of least resistance it ends DISASTROUS RESULTS. I made us pulled ourselves out from under the warm electric blanket and take care of the umbrellas.

Good thing we did that!  (This is like an epiphany: “my instincts were right”). And when we got up the next day, Mother Nature recomfirmed to me that taking the easy way never works.  One of the umbrellas  stands on our patio right next to a bank of windows and with the 70-80 mile an hour winds we experienced, at least one of our windows would have been broken.  We were lucky enough to have no trees knocked down, but there were sycamore, camphor, and oak branches every where and worse – NO ELECTRICITY.

So we had some obstacles to deal with.  First and most importantly, Tim and I were waiting for a new granddaughter and the telephones weren’t working, our cell phones had stopped charging, so out to the car to recharge.  The mess in the middle of the street had to be cleared.  No one else was doing it, cars going 40 swerving around the debris, so we did that.   Now we had to come up with a plan for the refrigerator and the lack of heat.  How were we going to handle our first night without lights???

So we invited friends over, lit a gazillion candles.  The house was magical, my son and daughter-in-law were ensconced in the hospital back in DC and we waited. We had come together at what I’d hoped was the midpoint.

Went to bed with no news and woke up the next day to no news.   Still no electricity at our house though the empty house next door had lights!!! Actually, almost every one had lights except for one half of our block and the block east of that.

Phones dead.  We ran out to the car to find out Tim and I have a beautiful new granddaughter!!!!!!!  Emily Joy.

I tried communicating this news via my phone and tried to catch up online with FFC and Smokelong, but  I found that finger typing on a telephone isn’t easy for me!!  Posted in the wrong place here and there, missed things, and didn’t realize we had no post for this spot for Friday. Went on obliviously, grocery shopping for candles and ice and duraflame logs.  Spent a quiet night staring into the fire thinking about what it must have been like “down on the farm” in the old days and promptly went to bed.

Now it’s Saturday and we’ve realized that we are in THE DARK MOMENT.  Outside temps at night have been 42 and inside hovering at 50. Hillary went to the Water and Power page and found out we probably won’t have electricity for another 48 hours.  We are tired of it but it’s given us an appreciation that doing without juice is nothing.  We are so lucky that we have running water, a gas stove we can light and cook on, a working fireplace and a lot of blankets.  We’re coming out of the dark moment.  Yes we are.

I’m at Starbucks and need to get moving.  It’s 5:00pm which means I have to pick up that next box of duraflames and some ice, then go home to light candles.  At least my phone and computer are fully charged.  Thank you Starbucks.

I’m ready for my close-up Mr. DeMille.