Writer. Comedian. Multimedia Storyteller. Urban Farmgirl. Solvency Enthusiast. Conflicted South Philadelphian.
This morning I watched a dapper man painstakingly extract two bananas and a yellowing copy of a James M. Cain pulp novel out of a trash bin outside of Allegro Pizza. I barely restrained myself from offering to get him some protein and a bottle of water so he’d *really* be set for the day.
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It’s November 1, 2019, also known as baby’s first National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo)! But I’m me, so of course I’m not following the script and writing a novel.
Instead, I’m banging out several short/flash stories, a stand up set, and two script treatments for NaNoWriMo 2019. I hope to very much break with character at some point, probably around Thanksgiving, and squeeze in a #drunkenwritein because #yolo.
I kicked things off early yesterday by submitting a short story I wrote named BLACK MISSION for a literary prize named after a famed writer’s writer who…well, someday I hope to be worthy enough to touch the hem of his garment. Someday. Here’s a snippet:
Her father died painfully in a creaky hospital bed with only a bored second year resident named Jarrett at his side, idly trolling his nemesis’ TikTok feed for shits and giggles. Later she’d allot exactly three minutes to mourn Pops’ youthful incarnation, the bearded and rail thin teen dad who’d braided her thick hair, read to her, gave her piggyback rides to pre-school, nurtured her inner-city urchin’s love of nature, and told her most men were lying liars who lied.
Off to get my every mo is wrimo tattoo.
