Once in a while I daydream of a life where I’m a full-time writer. It’s when I’m not daydreaming of being a sculptor or a talk show host.
New York Midnight’s Flash Fiction Micro Contest found me in one of those moments, and without blinking an eyelash signed right up.
Contestants were asked to submit three 100 character stories today. Each entry had to feature a particular word, and we received that word at roughly 9am (my time) this morning. Entries were due at twelve hours later at 11:59 EST.
After I signed up I started thinking about it…100 characters. That’s less than a tweet! By 40 characters!! They obviously picked the length so that people could tweet their stories…smart.
Today faced with my word (“stand”) and a jam-packed day I got to thinking about the task at hand. What is a story? How can you fit a story in 100 characters?
Luckily I’d already discussed it with my best friend G. who’s an editor by trade and a voracious reader. She assured me that it was possible to write a story in a sentence, and that the best ones she had read were less-action packed and insinuated a larger and often obscure background story. I got that last tip too late to really incorporate it into my stories.
I didn’t have much time, but got to work. Read on…
He popped up right when we needed him too. A little bit of cat treat on my fingers was all I needed to get him to approach at just the right moment.
All in all, it was an amazing filming experience.
So, I said to Will the other day, “Let’s hitch our wagons to this star. We’ll become cat handlers, move to LA. Get Gus an agent. It’s our destiny.” What could be wrong with this idea?
He wouldn’t admit it, but Will loves the Guster. After so many guys told me that one of the cardinal rules of dating was never talking about your cat, I am evidence that the right person will put up with it, even participate, and grow to feel the same way.
I was welcomed to Berlin by my good friends Ann Marie and Spencer, and this awesome welcome gift of Katzenzungen.
These milk chocolates are named after cat tongues, and somewhat resemble the actual body part. They don’t however, have the awesome sand-papery texture of actual cat tongues. I do wonder why they chose to leave that out.
They melt in your mouth and are delicious. At only 1,79 Euro, they’re a steal and I’m taking orders. Each box comes with 18 cat tongues to enjoy with or without your cat.
It is a rare moment when my main man the Guster isn’t close to mind. He was close to mind yesterday as we wandered throughout the Oakland Zoo. I was entranced. Apparently–and I blame my parents– I had never been to a zoo. Perhaps my memory fails, but I embraced the zoo with a child-like glee. Maybe it was actually taking a full day off of work.
I thought I would have been saddened to see these animals in captivity, but instead they struck me as having a pretty good life. I understand they’re not as active as they would be in the wild, but they’re safe and many appeared to be having a really great time. Especially those Squirrel Monkeys. I’d really love to be a Squirrel Monkey.
I also pondered what animals my animals, the Guster and our roommate Shawn, would want to be if they were another animal.
Guster likes to lay around and wishes he could eat all day.
I feel so depressed. I don’t know why. It just sprang up on me.
Suddenly, in the middle of 90210, I started loving Smudge so much. I started bawling and saying how much I loved her and how she couldn’t be given away.
Then (after I composed myself) I went out on the balcony. Suddenly I loved Pleasanton + the town homes. I tried to convince Mom + Dad not to move, but it didn’t work. At least now we may not give Smudge for awhile.
I don’t know. 90210 was so sad. It seems like I’m living in their saga.
The Guster turned sixty-five last year (or 11 in human years). We might not have taken out the cat book and looked up his cat age if the occasion hadn’t brought with it an extreme change in his behavior.
He went from moderately annoyed by our antics to down right grumpy.
To commemorate his new lifestyle, Will found this awesome t-shirt at Thrifttown last weekend.
We put it on him to see if he liked it.
He didn't particularly.
But ultimately admitted that it makes a darn good pillow.
Whenever the Guster is hungry he makes sure I know he’s serious. That’s why I made that brain map of how he thinks the other day. I’m not sure that got across how really and truly strange his behavior turns. Seriously, I think he would bite my face off if I weren’t marginally stronger than he is.
I made a video so that maybe you would help me decide if he really is that weird:
