13 Setyembre 2014

A sentence a day

The wall stood six feet high and five hands deep so Cinco, in his father's almond-brown leather shoes, climbed up the kitchen stool to look through the clean hole. 

Notes from Jeremy Miranda

08 Setyembre 2014

The story I've been avoiding

I decided on the title as soon as I came upon it in another story. Vigilant search for the impure morphed from fairy story to disgruntled-married-woman story and back to fairy story.

When I'm stuck like this, it's more detrimental for me to step back. I'm more comfortable if the story sits in my brain, an immovable boulder blocking the door. I know that sounds dramatic, but that's the most accurate (honest) image I can come up with.

But there's no room in my brain for anything bigger than character names. A premise. Vapid metaphors.