Monday, September 19, 2011


…I got my new issue of “Esquire” magazine. I like Esquire quite a lot.
I read the September issue last night. On page 50 they gave details of a contest. The idea is to write a short-short fiction story of 78 words, 78 because Esquire is celebrating 78 years of existence.
Naturally, being one who writes very short things, I liked this notion a lot.
I also liked the fact that there was a contest involved—a $500 stipend, trip to NYC, and a small writer’s conference.
So I came up to this keyboard I’m writing on and banged out a story.
Next, I went to to check out the rules/the fine print. In doing so, I saw an update for the contest saying that since announcing the contest on September 1st, they have already received 3,000 entries.
Holy Hell.
Anyway, I am going to send mine in. Now they’ll have 3,001.
Here’s what I just wrote:

Union 76

It starts with gasoline.

My father was an attendant, back when they had them in those days. My mother showed up on empty.

From there, they had two botched abortions, then me, plus a trailer home smelling of brine and barley, a place ravaged but replaced with shattered things.

It ends with gasoline, my father soaked in it one night after passing out on the couch. Mother putting the can down, flicking a lighter, saying, “Enough is enough.”

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