Thursday, October 18, 2012


Seen on the Purple Line to Linden at about 8:30 a.m. 

Marv read too much. You could see it in his face—heavy brow, long nose, pudgy cheeks, pointy chin, all sloping down towards the printed pages. His drooping, dull eyes lacked the glimmer than comes from real-world experiences: friendship, competition, envy, stress, love, depression, struggle, hysterics, joy. Marv thought he could get all those things from literature. To a certain extent he was right, of course. But he didn’t understand that you have to breathe them in, too. You have to let the world around you pulse through your veins. You have to get to know people, and you have to allow those people to move your muscles. 

I am so very excited, because my 3rd Annual Mary Shelley Story-Telling Party is tonight! (Actually, I think we skipped a year in there, but hopefully it will be consistently annual from now on.) People are writing short scary stories/poems/plays, etc., and bringing them to my apartment to read. Fear and delight will ensue. And now that I've started a writing group, the party has become an official DWChitown event! I wrote two stories--one is gross creepy, and one is subtle creepy. Maybe I'll post one of them on the blog tomorrow. Or on Halloween itself, perhaps. Anyway, I can't wait.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Please leave a comment! It always makes my day.