Showing posts from July, 2011

Finding Homes for Prose

this is our big, bad library So, if you've been following along, you know I've been actively submitting flash fiction to online publications. Over the last couple of months, I've submitted ten times. Six of those submissions are still in consideration and four have been rejected. All four of those rejected have been resubmitted to other publications. (I know. Makes me dizzy as well. I have a spreadsheet.) isn't this comic hilarious? I also have one story I wrote last week that hasn't yet left my iPad. Its a good one. Bottom line is I am marketing seven new and original short stories. Not too shabby. After my initial blitz, I'm trying to get smarter about where I send my work. And I'm considering some print publications. And I'm considering longer works of fiction. And I'm considering... Too much time considering and not enough time writing. What I'm probably going to do is let these stories run through several submissions while I work on my novel

Writer Paralysis and Whiskeytown Falls

Have not written a stitch (save the poem post below) since Hannah's passing. But I'm about to rev up again. In the mean time, here's a short-story inspired by an actual article I read regarding a waterfall discovered about twenty miles from my home. I played with present tense and one-sided conversations. I liked the effect and thought it fit this story. Whiskeytown Falls On Friday, August 12th, 2005 the Associated Press ran a story about a 400-foot waterfall discovered in a remote wilderness in Northern California. Doug Masterson, after fourteen failed attempts on foot, found the falls while searching a global satellite imaging system on his computer. He called a fellow wildlife biologist and friend, Mark Ferrier, who had six hours to live. 4:37AM The phone rings insistently in the dark. Mark, still drunk, nearly tumbles off his bed reaching for it. His wife doesn’t move. Hello?- Doug?- What the hell?- It’s late.- Early.- Call me later.- What?- Doug, they aren’t there. I’m

Our Hannah Bear

hug your puppy for me That first afternoon, a warm valley day Into the heat of the Haven Humane The scent of desperation in the air The kids were bright and hoping she'd be there From a litter of four or five, we picked Girl who stuck snout through prison bars and licked Little brown ball lifted into the air And we brought home our sweetie Hanna Bear Hard to believe that was fifteen years past So unfair that our companions don't last She brought laughter, love and life to the air Impossible that once she wasn't there We watched her grow before our very eyes Our affection seemed to swell with her size Like a deer she could spring into the air Whether chasing squirrels or leaping at hares Too soon body began to let her down Never forgot the time she almost drown Now with her gone there's stillness in the air Though, I swear, I still feel our Hannah Bear Thanks for reading. I don't think I'll write anymore tonight. Cheers, Casey

The Universe Conspires

sometimes there is no direction to avoid disaster Some days are different than others. It's possible that, in 24 short hours, the following can occur: the wheels are coming off this thing My Love's car breaks down out of town. (Found a great mechanic to fix it thanks to a kindness from the tow guy. If it had broken down when my love and daughter were traveling north to Ashland on Saturday, they would have missed their play and likely been stranded in the middle of nowhere.) our Hannah Bear Our pet of fifteen years passes away. (She is no longer in any pain. We have fifteen years of wonderful memories.) ouch Got a short-story rejection. (An opportunity to send this publication another story and submit the one they turned down to someone else.) freakin' freaky Mud Daubers found in the garage. (There's no lemonade here.) All of these things can and did occur, all at once. And if I didn't have my love and my kids I don't know how I would have survived it. Thanks for

Old Man Winter

This awesome "Old Man Winter" pic came from It was about 108 degrees here today. Reminded me of a story: It’s the sixth day of snowfall. The chimney and attic window are the only parts of the house not buried and I understand now that this is no ordinary storm. We are probably not getting out alive. I have to decide whether we were going to die in our home or meet our end while making our way down the mountain. Four years. Four years we have lived in this cabin, isolated from “civilization” just enough to feel alone in the world, but not far enough that we can’t purchase our needs, take care of our banking, wire far-off family and get medical treatment six or seven times a year. The winter weather has been difficult at times, prone to high winds and torrential rain. But the snow rarely comes and never sticks more than a day or two. Until one week ago when the stranger came through. I want to be clea


Close eyes and imagine the shot Tempo, tempo, guts in a knot Dodge the bunker, skip the water Catch the snitch like Harry Potter Dip it, Hook it, Skull it, Blade it Pure it, Draw it, Crush it, Fade it Tiny fairways hiding from view Third ball lost and haven't a clue What club would Lee Trevino use Can the six take this rough abuse Which wedge will get it to the green Does this game make nice people mean Birdies rare as molten gold Bogies come as a double fold Score as high as Jeff Spicoli Each cup seems to have a goalie And then, just when all hope is gone The perfect swing, ball sweet and long Lands soft just inches from the flag And it will be hard not to brag Volunteer for torturous rounds Swing the clubs and stalk the grounds You'll know you've gone around the bend When you can't wait to go out again Had a fantastic golf round today with my brother, my brother-in-law and my nephew. We didn't play that well, but we had an awesome time. Such is often the way with