demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com
Demolishing the Block: Resurfacing
http://demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com/2012/12/resurfacing.html
An ongoing attempt to take a sledgehammer directly to the hardened mass that is writer's block. Saturday, December 29, 2012. I make popcorn for a living. Microwave popcorn. That's not even true, I put bags of microwave popcorn into boxes for a living. So I got a job, a real job, 40 hours a week - yes, I am officially an adult. But where does that leave me as a writer? Stuck ankle deep in the mud. However, I am, if not happier, more content than I have been in a long, long time in my life. I am living...
demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com
Demolishing the Block: My Two Jobs
http://demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com/2013/07/my-two-jobs.html
An ongoing attempt to take a sledgehammer directly to the hardened mass that is writer's block. Tuesday, July 9, 2013. Today, standing dramatically before a metaphorical expanse of water (in reality a series of seemingly unending mechanized moving belts carrying in-transited commercial product), I realized something important. I realized that for the past eight or so months, I have had only one job. And I decide, while peering out at the imaginary rolling waves of this calm, nonexistent lake, that the de...
demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com
Demolishing the Block: June 2012
http://demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com/2012_06_01_archive.html
An ongoing attempt to take a sledgehammer directly to the hardened mass that is writer's block. Thursday, June 28, 2012. A flash written for the Flash Fiction Project. Based on the below image. This has also become an excerpt of a large piece and is based on an older story of mine. 8221; Mom asks out of habit. 8220;Just okay.”. I lie, she doesn’t need to know, doesn’t care to know. What would I tell her? No, that just earns me a trip to see Father Rodas, in the back office, breath smelling like mint and ...
demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com
Demolishing the Block: February 2012
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An ongoing attempt to take a sledgehammer directly to the hardened mass that is writer's block. Tuesday, February 7, 2012. Would That I Could. Bitter is a good word to describe the. Way I've felt about my hands,. That they were not made to shape,. To form things of beauty in the way. Human or natural form, that they were. Not given the delicate touches. That can give life to flat lines and. Smeared pigments upon unmarred. In vain did I try to make short fingers,. Thick lips work upon instruments,. Perbed...
demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com
Demolishing the Block: April 2012
http://demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com/2012_04_01_archive.html
An ongoing attempt to take a sledgehammer directly to the hardened mass that is writer's block. Sunday, April 15, 2012. County Line Crash: Part Three. Here it is, the third and final part of the story. Please read parts One. First if you havent already. Enjoy. 160; . 160; . 160; . 160; . 160; . 8220;Shit, shit, shit.”. 160; . 8220;Son of a bitch.”. 8220;Didn’t I tell you? Knew I heard shots.”. Written by Diego Green. For the th...
demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com
Demolishing the Block: May 2012
http://demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com/2012_05_01_archive.html
An ongoing attempt to take a sledgehammer directly to the hardened mass that is writer's block. Wednesday, May 30, 2012. Ever read a short story and realize about five paragraphs in that nothing has actually happened yet? You are not alone. Everyday, countless readers fall prey to these dreary passages, often written by overzealous writers eager to display their exceptional descriptive skills and world-building abilities. Thankfully, there is hope. Similar to the debilitating disease known as mirror lists.
demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com
Demolishing the Block: July 2014
http://demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com/2014_07_01_archive.html
An ongoing attempt to take a sledgehammer directly to the hardened mass that is writer's block. Saturday, July 19, 2014. A five-minute phone call brought Amalia down this road, a man’s voice soft and stumbling but direct. How he found her she did not know, but he was a client not only willing to pay for her services but able to wire an advance within the hour. 8220;What’s the job? 8221; She had asked, dazed with the he. 8220;Who told you? There was no answer. 8220;Was it a man named Randolph Barnes?
demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com
Demolishing the Block: December 2012
http://demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com/2012_12_01_archive.html
An ongoing attempt to take a sledgehammer directly to the hardened mass that is writer's block. Saturday, December 29, 2012. I make popcorn for a living. Microwave popcorn. That's not even true, I put bags of microwave popcorn into boxes for a living. So I got a job, a real job, 40 hours a week - yes, I am officially an adult. But where does that leave me as a writer? Stuck ankle deep in the mud. However, I am, if not happier, more content than I have been in a long, long time in my life. I am living...
demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com
Demolishing the Block: Shorts
http://demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com/p/short-stories_01.html
An ongoing attempt to take a sledgehammer directly to the hardened mass that is writer's block. A girl and her young brother, on the run from a blood-thirsty terror, find solace in an old tale about a long-lost god. County Line Crash (Parts: One. Deputy Moors comes across something strange lying on the lonely county line road during her midnight patrol. Waking Time (Parts: One. Nathan wakes up in his bed to find himself in a dreary nightmare, yearning for sleep to return him to real life. Introducing Rob...
demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com
Demolishing the Block: January 2012
http://demolishingtheblock.blogspot.com/2012_01_01_archive.html
An ongoing attempt to take a sledgehammer directly to the hardened mass that is writer's block. Friday, January 20, 2012. One for the Road. The beer, finished before the guzzler takes off from the parking lot,. Can't be bothered to throw it out,. Yet courteous enough not to just chuck it,. Toss it haphazard, crushed, to clatter against the dark blacktop. No, place it upright, carefully on the yellow-painted line. Like a tiny monument to fermented drink,. Untouched in an empty flat plain. A bridge too far.
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