short fiction

We have lift-off/ Scroll down for contest!

Well the sun is finally out here (at least for the weekend) and I’m looking forward to launching Animal at the Café Deux Soleils on Commercial Drive Sunday night. It’s also Italian Days on the Drive so the mood should be festive—especially if the Canucks win their game on Saturday night. The talented Phil DeMarsh will be playing some moody guitar music, my friend and fellow poet/writer Fiona Tinwei Lam will be MC’ing and the tenaciously independent (and very local)  People’s Co-op Books will be hosting the book table. So if you are in Vancouver do come, 7:30 to 9:00 pm. Free admission! I will also probably be wearing lipstick (a rare event). » more


On Carson McCullers, Hokkaido and Fictional Voice

“It happened that green and crazy summer when Frankie was twelve years old. This was the summer when for a long time she had not been a member. She belonged to no club and was a member of nothing in the world.”

— Carson McCullers, The Member of the Wedding.

 

“Miss Amelia was rich. In addition to the store she operated a still three miles back in the swamp, and ran out the best liquor in the county. She was a dark, tall woman with bones and muscles like a man. Her hair was cut short and brushed back from the forehead, and there was about her sunburned face a tense, haggard quality. She might have been a handsome woman if, even then, she was not slightly cross-eyed.”

— Carson McCullers, The Ballad of the Sad Cafe.
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