Somehow, I ended up with 5,000 Twitter followers.
Frankly, if you were to ask me, I’d say that following me is a sign of dubious moral standing and, most likely, an indicator of a brain parasite. You might wanna have that checked out by a priest and/or doctor.
Whatever the case, it is what it is and there you all are and I’m thankful to have you turning an ear toward my lunatic broadcasting. I appreciate you dialing into my penmonkey frequency.
This feels like a good time to give some shit away.
So, here’s what’s on the table:
(1) copy of Irregular Creatures in PDF or Kindle.
(1) copy of Confessions of a Freelance Penmonkey in PDF or Kindle.
(1) copy of 250 Things You Should Know About Writing in PDF or Kindle.
(1) Penmonkey postcard sent to you via Jolly Olde Snail Mail, and on this postcard I will ink a random thought about writing all for you. I might also pass out on the postcard and smear it with drool.
Here, then, is how you get that.
Drop down into the comments.
Write a story using three sentences.
My favorite gets the package.
You have one day — I’ll check back here at 2pm EST tomorrow (24 hours from now) and will pick.
And thank you again, awesome humans. You tickle this little inkslinger’s pink parts.
Go forth and write boldly.
[EDIT: See comments for results!]
Dan Mae says:
“Excuse me,” said the man to me one windy afternoon, a Cape Town sunset turning his hollow cheeks a ruddy red gold, “do you have any coins?”
I wrestled with years of cynicism; the homeless, they only have no homes because they have no jobs because they are lazy and uneducated, on drugs, not worth it.
“No,” I said, and walked away, determined not to notice that the sun had firmly set and how, in twilight, everyone looks sad and cold.
August 4, 2011 — 6:15 AM
Ben K. says:
The man’s ragged last breaths sounded like an injured horse just come in from the field, or an old dog running down a rabbit. Daddy had told them not to come around here no more. The wind whispered through the tall grass, and the man didn’t even close his eyes.
August 4, 2011 — 6:58 AM
Gabi says:
Nowhere in this world would be a better place to bury the near-empty tube of toothpaste she had been hiding in her backpack for two weeks now. While she dug a hole into the half-frozen ground with her bare fingers, her left thumbnail got bent back and cracked way too close to the flesh. The small drops of blood which were dripping down on the soil, shimmering almost golden in the light of the setting afternoon sun, seemed to give this ritual even more significance.
August 4, 2011 — 7:02 AM
Sean Preston says:
The Origin of Dragon Men
Sir Tamlyn was the finest knight in all of England. He had slain bandits and brigands (and knew the difference between the two), saved princesses, but knew trolls and goblins and more fantastic foes were no more than myths to keep villagers isolated and in their place, until he reached the burned out clearing in the forest, and discovered a large dragon feasting upon the corpse of the brigand king he had been pursuing for days. “Well, bugger me,” said Sir Tamlyn; the dragon finished her repast and obliged.
August 4, 2011 — 8:24 AM
BA Boucher says:
The Big, Bad Bombs went “Boom,” and everyone is gone.
Except for me and my beautiful wife.
She’s turning green.
August 4, 2011 — 8:45 AM
Jason R says:
“Put the gun down, fuckwit.”
“I *said*, ‘Put the gun down.'”
Shit.
August 4, 2011 — 9:16 AM
Shullamuth Smith says:
She paused by the thistle, four feet high, wicked spines, and brilliant beating magenta heart following the sun.
“This is why I like you,” she said, and I took her hand.
The best thing about married women is that they’re not looking for husbands.
August 4, 2011 — 10:19 AM
Preston says:
I thought I had finally found someone I could connect with, but he shrugged off my every attempt. No one believes in ghosts anymore. I’ll show him.
August 4, 2011 — 10:23 AM
Nathan Meunier says:
Unicorn Master sighed in despair. “Your kung-fu is too great,” he said, mouthing the words in faux overdubbed English. He clutched the mark of the Five-Finger Poison Lotus Strike burned into his chest and fell to the ground.
August 4, 2011 — 10:48 AM
Joe Terranova says:
In my dream, you were lonely too, and there was room in your life for me. I hit the snooze button at least 4 times in the morning. My point here is that you’re making me late for work.
August 4, 2011 — 10:51 AM
Thomas Pluck says:
You shouldn’t’ve worn that sexy robe, Your Honor, or smiled at me from the bench. This is a hammer drill, and something the sex catalog called the “dominator.” When you set that animal who raped my daughter free, I think you said it best: it takes two to tango.
🙂
August 4, 2011 — 11:00 AM
Marlan says:
Oh shit, I thought, the three-sentence story contest is almost over.
What the fuck am I going to write?
Oh wait, I just did.
August 4, 2011 — 11:00 AM
Brett Irvine says:
I turned around, ready to tell her to get stuffed, and instead found myself face to face with a tokoloshe. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “Simple,” it said, “I’m here to bite off your toes.”
August 4, 2011 — 11:01 AM
Sharon Reamer says:
Her breath rasped as she touched his wrist and squeaked, “Don’t do it.”
He paused, hand poised above the knife and asked, “What’s the alternative?”
“We’ll just rip it out instead,” she said.
August 4, 2011 — 11:04 AM
Paul S. Kemp says:
I wanted to fix it, dialed the phone. But *he* answered, not her, his voice like a fucking finger picking at the scab of my pain. I murdered them while they slept in each others’ arms.
August 4, 2011 — 11:05 AM
Kate Harrad says:
Setup.
Conflict.
Resolution.
August 4, 2011 — 11:07 AM
Amanda Booloodian says:
“This box holds all the quantifiable knowledge in the universe, this pencil does not.”
“I’ll take the box.”
“Good, space monkeys are attacking and I need the pencil to finish writing the scene.”
August 4, 2011 — 11:08 AM
Andres says:
I cried like I never did behind my friend at his mother’s funeral.
How could I be showing more regret for the loss than him?
Moments later, all of his suffering swarmed out while the body was taken down; I went close to him and with a pat on his back I said —it’ll be alright buddy, it’ll be alright—.
August 4, 2011 — 11:08 AM
Tracey says:
Ben stared at the monitor of his computer screen, lost in the freaky live sex show he had been logged onto for hours.
When the camera zoomed in on the backside of the masked women who was just plundered by every man, women, and kitchen appliance; he noticed she had a tattoo of blue baby feet right above her left butt cheek.
Ben instantly recognized the feet as his own and fell off of his chair , dick in hand, disgusted he had been jerking off to his very own mother.
August 4, 2011 — 11:11 AM
Kathleen says:
She stood alone, hair dripping wet and plastered to her face from the cold rain she found no shelter from. On the horizon, the boat drifted away, carrying the one thing she needed most in the world. Bright flames lifted from the boat and licked the clouds betraying the sun’s light.
August 4, 2011 — 11:17 AM
Mike Callahan says:
In deepest darkest Africa, a tiger cub dies. He is quite used to it. He does it very well.
August 4, 2011 — 11:19 AM
Terry Reed says:
He woke up pants-less, dazed and disheveled, lying amidst pages and pages of his own fecal refuse. He scratched his head, perplexed, but the world just kept chirping like broken crickets. This was a perfectly normal affair, for this is indeed what monkeys do.
August 4, 2011 — 11:20 AM
Maulaali says:
For sale. Wedding ring. Half tide
August 4, 2011 — 11:21 AM
Jim Marko says:
Fun stuff … I’m particularly digging on TaraMonster and Michael Montoure’s at the moment but much to be read here …
August 4, 2011 — 11:21 AM
Bika says:
The tenacious citizens built shelters from their government stipend, founding the stinky hamlet of Cheese-til-Tuesday. Proud Cheesians weathered the bites of passing transients, the freezerburn of winter, and the various molds brought on by a long rainy season; when summer returned, sun-ripened homes swooned in on themselves, bulging at the walls and sweating orange grease. Video of the resulting flash flood of fondue went viral, but not in time to save the ones who stayed to dip their bread.
August 4, 2011 — 11:24 AM
Ally says:
For sale. Wedding ring. Half pair
August 4, 2011 — 11:24 AM
Dian Mochtar says:
STUPID CUPID. “How could such a loser get that job?” | “Sshh..not so loud, I heard he’s Zeus’ nephew or something.”
August 4, 2011 — 11:28 AM
Adam Renn Olenn says:
I don’t know why she took a shit on the back doorstep, but it put an end to my uncertainty that something had been wrong with us. I mean, eight years together, and suddenly she’s a cranky, twitchy, ornery old bitch who won’t give me two seconds to myself when I get in the door? I zipped my jacket back up and headed out to look for her, my breath frosting the clear air and her leash jingling in my hand.
August 4, 2011 — 11:29 AM
Alexa says:
I felt a weight on my chest, and a tickle on my nose. Turning my head away I descended back into dreams, chasing those welcome phantoms. Then the cat puked on my face.
(True story)
August 4, 2011 — 11:32 AM
Ryan Shelton says:
Childe stood in the doorway for a moment. Forward to uncertainty or back to familiarity? Feeling a rush of shills and anxiety, she stepped through.
August 4, 2011 — 11:35 AM
Melissa Pascarelli says:
The soft buzz of the bathroom light and the whisper of my feet over cool tile broke the barren stillness of pre-dawn peace. Hope bloomed, unbidden, with a familiar splash and the endless tick of 120 seconds. The smell of cherry hand soap and the plastic stick with its desolate pink line remained behind in silent witness as I tiptoed back to bed.
August 4, 2011 — 11:35 AM
Keesh says:
When I was in third grade, I talked my parents into taking me to church mostly because I was convinced the Host was a slice of mushroom and goddamn do I love mushrooms. I have since accepted there is nothing on earth that can’t be explained with science, and I have yet to see anything in my life happen because I asked the sky to give me something – I’ve always gone out and gotten it. Maybe I’m Jesus.
August 4, 2011 — 11:37 AM
T.W.Wombat says:
I can fly? Must fuck, Fuck, FUCK, then settle into sticky calm darkness. And that’s my entire former life as a fruit fly.
August 4, 2011 — 11:56 AM
Sybil says:
On the first night, she tossed the bear, a rather smelly terrycloth cuddle piece that her baby couldn’t seem to live without, into the washer because it was covered with all manner of baby food and other crud. The baby cried himself to sleep because it was the second night before she remembered and pulled the bear, large drops of water streaming from its large glassy eyes, from the washer and tossed it callously into the dryer. On the third night, tired of the baby’s crying, she stuck her hand into the dryer to retrieve the bear, but instead she screamed as she was pulled headfirst into the dryer.
August 4, 2011 — 12:07 PM
Laura says:
We met in person for the first time at a Chinese restaurant in SoHo. Her profile picture had been of a cute blonde, so she must have shaved off that beard just before taking the picture.
This is why I don’t use online dating anymore.
August 4, 2011 — 12:07 PM
Adam Short says:
I could have got 25 to life. Hell, in Texas they could have electrocuted me, but no, I’m stuck here. So this is it: Chuck’s blog, 2 sentences, in 3 sentences.
August 4, 2011 — 12:07 PM
Jenny M. says:
The unicorn carried guilt for the young man. For if it had befriended the young man’s sister instead, then the young man would be living a normal, heterosexual lifestyle, free from rainbows, velvet smoking jackets, and, above all, harassment. But unbeknownst to the unicorn, just hours before it became a fixture in the young man’s life, the young man’s mother, a disco enthusiast and Abba fan, taught the young man how to do the shuffle while listening to “Dancing Queen”.
August 4, 2011 — 12:14 PM
Ahimsa says:
“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckgoddamnfuck,” she said just after we discovered the condom had broken.
“It’s okay; I didn’t notice either,” I told her.
Maybe I lied, just a little.
August 4, 2011 — 12:26 PM
SamMalone says:
They played the grainy video over and over again, hoping that I’d cave and tell them what I knew. But, all I could see was the iridescent yellow shimmer in the fat agent agent’s eyes as he screamed at me to help him save innocent lives. I laughed a little, because there was no saving left to do; the ones not infected are meant to be food.
August 4, 2011 — 12:30 PM
Govneh says:
When it’s been this long since you’ve eaten, you would not even imagine that your stomach has anything left to orally expel but, like the rest of my body, its tenacity and resolve never fails to prove me wrong. As the meat crackled above the fire, I simultaneously salivated and heaved, repulsed by my own desperation yet ecstatic that, at least for now, the constant pain and hunger would cease. One part of my brain, the only part of the true me left, the me before the bombs, screamed incessantly “he was only six, you’re a monster!” and other such frantic pleas in a frenzied attempt to stop me but I could not help but let other part, the one calmly and logically going over the merits of taking younger animals to slaughter to preserve the tenderness of the meat, drown out the screaming & pleading as I dug in.
August 4, 2011 — 12:39 PM
Michael J Winegar says:
Frank hated Mondays.
He checked the silver bullets in the clip of his 9mm Glock for the seventeenth time and thought about taking the desk job.
Frank really hated Mondays.
August 4, 2011 — 12:43 PM
Snellopy says:
When we were in our teens, and my brother was in his rebellious stage, he always screamed at me with contempt “you’re just like mum and dad!” but as we got older and turned into real people, we started to have conversations with our parents and found out some of their amazing escapades. Since then, I’ve lived out bush, traveled round the world, eaten all sorts of disgusting things, and done things both noble and sketchy. Now, in the rare times I’m on the same continent as my brother he says “you’re just like mum and dad!” but with admiration.
August 4, 2011 — 12:54 PM
Suzanne says:
Sitting in the quiet dark, rocking my peacefully sleeping infant on my lap, I think about my Mommy rocking me and my NaNa rocking her and about how the world is so different now but this gentle maternal ritual stretches back and back into long ago and far away.
I think about how my tiny daughter is like a message in a bottle, my hopes and dreams and knowledge and experiences placed inside her and released into the unknown future.
I am so grateful that I have a healthy child to love (with an unexpected intensity) and my heart overflows with compassion for those mothers with sick children, those children with unloving mothers, and all of us grown-ups who ache everyday with the subconscious longing to be small and cherished and lovingly cared for again.
August 4, 2011 — 1:03 PM
Aarron Kemp says:
Lightning dances in Celaeno’s midnight hair, sculpting Rorschachian vistas on the pavement around me and foretelling my release. Guttural thunder rolls out from the darkly stained lips of her swooping, feasting sisters as she leaves me one more moment to pray for her kiss. Ripping the ruined racer’s helmet off in a slurry of blood and mud, I lunge at Celaeno’s laughing face and pray to all the other gods that she’ll choke on my cooling carcass.
August 4, 2011 — 1:08 PM
Anthony Elmore says:
“You’re going to live,” Dr. Marshall said to Teaves.
“My wife will be overjoyed,” Teaves thought as he walked down the hospital corridor, his jacket slung over his left shoulder.
A Process Server called his name, and handed him a blue envelope which Teaves recognized as divorce papers.
August 4, 2011 — 1:22 PM
Marc Wittman says:
Blood dripped from the knife as Bobby looked through the kitchen window to see the old Cadillac spitting dirt as it shot down the road past the house. The blood flowed through the cracks in the linoleum and he chuckled as he noticed the look on her dead face. He knew they wouldn’t check his mother’s house.
August 4, 2011 — 1:40 PM
Paul E Holmes says:
The car crawled to a stop at the crossroads, and there was a muffled *thump* from the trunk as the body rolled forward. In one direction lay home, but the police were almost certainly waiting for me; the other road led to freedom, with the certainty that I would never see my family again.
I lit a cigarette and hit the gas.
August 4, 2011 — 2:09 PM
terribleminds says:
AND WE ARE CLOSED.
I will pick in the next hour.
Stay frosty.
— c.
August 4, 2011 — 2:24 PM
Chris Mackey says:
It’s hard to remember how we managed to get this far, me pushin’ the sheriff’s pistol into my brother’s head.
Just travelin’ through, lookin’ for some honest work, I couldn’t-a-known I’d be protectin’ this town from my own kin.
A deep breath, a glance at her on the floor, sprawled out like a pinwheel of limbs, squeeze my eyes, the loudest shot I’ve ever heard.
August 4, 2011 — 2:37 PM
Amber J Gardner says:
Good luck. That’s a whole lot of three sentences to read in an hour.
August 4, 2011 — 3:06 PM
terribleminds says:
Blessedly, I’ve been reading them as I went. *whew*
August 4, 2011 — 3:09 PM