The letters get away from me, making tiramisu.
Since my body has decided to betray me with a hideous sinus infection, I decided this week's microprompts ought to reflect it. Shame on you, immune system. Get your act together.
"What do we need from the store? I already have 'measuring cups' written down."
So today we're having the equivalent of a Class Movie Day here on Phantasmagorium. In the spirit of rest and relaxation--and extreme discomfort--I thought we'd watch "Possibly in Michigan," a ten-minute short film directed by Cecelia Condit.
Plenty of writers and readers probably already know what the magical realism genre is. But plenty of you also probably do not. Since I borrow from it stylistically and almost all of the time, I'll take the time to explain.
A man at Camalo Fair swore to me that if I came with him on the Ferris wheel he’d cure cancer.
The more I fine-tune "Lost and Found," the more my heroes become anti-heroes and my villains become anti-villains. The only difference between most of the "good" and "bad" characters is who they happen to dislike the most at that moment.
It's a new month, which means it's time for a new set of shocking, scandalous writer confessions. Not for the faint of heart, I assure you.
You'll all be pleased to know today is National Be Late For Something today. You might think I'm making this up to excuse missing a post, but I beg to differ. Look it up.
Before we were there, a volcano in Chico erupted.