Diary of a Dead Writer Writing™ Flash Fiction

The Write Challenge

noreply@blogger.com (M.N.YANO) — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 18:49:32 PST

Studies reveal internet readers don’t actually read word for word, they only skim through a page picking up words here and there like a busy shopper always willing to give up a grocery list for something better or new. Let’s say you are a raconteur of note. How does the finding affect you?

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The Secret World's Greatest Pianist

noreply@blogger.com (M.N.YANO) — Wed, 14 Nov 2007 19:33:07 PST

“Magnifico!” He closes his eyes, pushes back his chair, and stands to face the audience whose faces are all aglow from the after-notes of his concertos. At the next concert, he will be Chopin. Smiling he clutches close to his chest a broken toy-piano. But tonight he is raving hungry.

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Showgirls the Morning After

noreply@blogger.com (M.N.YANO) — Tue, 13 Nov 2007 19:09:41 PST

“You can’t build stardom on online video…One must be a Beyonce, Cher and Rosie in one live showstopper.” “?!” “In my time, honey, we didn’t do youtube to be famous. We weren’t even on anything to be real.” “Can I borrow your stilleto, now, Edilberto?! ” “Pardon?! Tina Turner, okay?!”

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The Leveling Doctrine

noreply@blogger.com (M.N.YANO) — Sun, 11 Nov 2007 21:35:32 PST

This then is how Melinda wants to be a part of the high-profile set; a delicate plan replete with the elements of paperback romance. Her heart skips just looking at him, the oldest bachelor wheeling about in a chair. “To the kitchen!” That’s the party hostess hissing in her ears.

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The Tryst

noreply@blogger.com (M.N.YANO) — Sat, 10 Nov 2007 22:22:58 PST

[This is the first of a series of 50-worders. Excluding title, each piece precisely contains fifty words I call 'nifty-fifty']. One muggy afternoon, a bead of sweat rolls down Michael’s brow. His free hand gropes in the dark. “Gregory, let me stay a while longer.” “I’d love to but, she’s…” “Alright….” The door closes. Marlene’s footsteps click-clack down the hallway. Inside the closet, Michael wipes his face with Gregory’s underwear.

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The Old Woman on a Park Bench

noreply@blogger.com (M.N.YANO) — Sun, 11 Nov 2007 21:36:16 PST

The sun wistfully blinks before setting down to that side of the world. A cold draft sends shivers through the foliage. Onto the other end of her bench, a frog leaps. “Is that you?” “Beat it, Lady! Prince Charming is so medieval!” “Chill out! I’m talking to Beckham. Here kitty…”

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Degrees of Decadence

noreply@blogger.com (M.N.YANO) — Fri, 09 Nov 2007 18:17:19 PST

Foreword: This is an experimental 750-word fiction triptych. It could stand solid as one piece composed of three stand-alone 250-word anecdotes all around a unifying theme. Development idea: Structurally based on the rudiments of haiku, this is a weaving of story over poetry over story. Telling challenge: Lure the reader into a big story universe with three sub-genres, and let them experience three sub-worlds, as they were. House Centennial From a lamppost across the street, it bears...

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