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⚽ Twelve 8-year-olds + 200mg of caffeine + one mortified coach = the best bar story you’ll hear today. Trust us, you want to hear how this ends.
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A late-night traffic stop becomes a reminder: storytelling connects us, grounds us, and makes us known. In a world of strangers, our stories are how we find our way home.
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Grant’s thoughts about purchasing the Toyota snapped away when the officer softly tapped the driver’s side window. “Hello? Can you roll down the window for me, sir?” Grant didn’t realize the young officer was standing next to his door. The lights were blinding and hypnotizing all at the same time. “Yes, sir. Absolutely.” He quickly
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Before I was old enough to read, I told stories. Imagination incubated, spit out into the world through my limited toddler vocabulary. After being taught how to read and write, the magic turned from oral stories to written stories. Now I was writing my own material, reading everything I could to get ideas, even the
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Staring right at me, I thought she would start screaming, yelling at the top of her lungs. Before you start in on me, I just want to set the record straight – I didn’t start this argument. No. Really. I didn’t. It wasn’t my fault. But then again, the guilty always have a way of
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Storytelling takes account of the shoddy memories of the teller. My memories and the gaping holes in them make the tale more interesting, sometimes taking it off the rails into the depths of what can only be considered borderline lying. Those details often make it palatable, so I hope my recollection will be relatively accurate
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Floyd complains about lukewarm coffee, sparking banter with Kathy in a slow-paced diner.
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A hodgepodge of memories built from various adventures, starting from the patriarch of invention and creativity, my Dad. In his mid to late thirties, he started several businesses, including one that began in our garage. “Would you like to make some money?” That was a question James, Jon, and I heard often. Sometimes, we would
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That’s how Brad, Justin, Mikey, Terry, and I became friends. When you are little, think kindergarten or first-grade age, you only meet the people you live closest to. Or you make friends at school and hope their parents can pick you up or drop you off to play. But as you get older, say in
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Empty. Empty and quiet. I hated it. Then again, I was just a kid who absolutely hated quiet! I loved being around people, all kinds of people. The older the people, the better. At eight, adults were way more interesting than kids my own age. But right now, it was just our family. Me. Dad.
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“Wait, what was that?” Pulling out the earbuds, Gina looked over her shoulder where the sound came from. “Can you please move?” The woman was wearing sunglasses inside, which was the first thing Gina noticed. Second were the extravagant pearls hanging from her neck. Gina saw lots of women wearing pearls in southern California. But
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I heard that sentence thirty years ago or more. Write what you know. Show us, don’t tell us. Incorporate personal experiences into your fiction writing. And so many more tips, tricks, and advice, all designed to make me a better writer. And you know what I discovered? I see a lot more than I think
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“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The boy sneered at the strange man. “I’m telling you,” he repeated, staring at the boy. “That’s really not a good idea.” The boy was standing in front of a store, a big sign plastered in the window. The sign read, “Don’t make faces in the window.
Stories. Enjoy!
5 Minute Observations 