The Confabulator Cafe

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  • I Hope You Like It… (Week of March 3)

    www.seomix.fr The hardest part of a writer’s life is maybe, just maybe, is putting one’s work out for others to read and give feedback. There are some anxious, hand-wringing moments when a writer is sure that exposure as a fraud is imminent, when that trusted friend may come back and suggest that the writer give it up and keep the day job.

    It’s not those comments that are the most worrisome, though. Perhaps the comments that say “it’s good but…” or “I liked it but…” are the hardest to take. ‘But’ is a deflating kind of word, isn’t it?

    Well, our writers this week are going to tell us about handling critiques and rejections. They’ve got their coffee, the stage is lit and the mic is open. Pull up a chair here and our servers will be circulating, ready to take your orders.

     

  • Ephemera – How true is your “true story”

    We told the Confabulators to write a fictionalized version of something true for the flash fiction this week. As many people know from the many Hollywood “based on a true story” renditions, just because something claims to be based on a true story, doesn’t mean it has much truth to it. So we asked those Confabulators (who were willing) to reveal how much truth there was to their true story last week.

    August Baker

    The actions in my story are almost 100% true, at least as well as 12 year old August remembers them. But I already know 12 year old August’s story, and didn’t have a lot of interest retelling it. Instead, it’s told from the point of view of my dad. His thoughts and feelings during my story will remain his and only his, and I can only hope that I did him justice.

    Sara Lundberg

    After my mom passed away, I spent a month writing down everything I could remember about the experience. After that I put it away and didn’t look at it for over a year. When asked to tell a true story, I decided some of my best material was probably there, so I went through the massive manuscript and found something anecdotal I could tell in a flash fiction. It is mostly true, even if the events and conversations didn’t happen exactly the way they are presented.

    Kevin Wohler

    As with most stories, there’s a grain of truth to “Going for Broke.” I didn’t want to just tell a true story, however. Real life rarely has a good solid ending. Most true stories don’t end, they just lead to the next story.

    So after writing a rough draft of the “true” event, I decided to really fictionalize it. I set the story in 1945, and I made the narrator (me) into a former army grunt who worked long shifts at a Pittsburgh steel mill. I made Nathan much more of an antagonist than the guy he is based on. I gave the narrator a wife and baby to up the stakes of his losses.

    What’s still true in the story? Well, there was a poker game, and I did break my shoulder blade after falling on the way to the bathroom. And — true to the story — I still managed to come in second place that night.

    Jason Arnett

    How much truth is in my story? Enough that hopefully you believe most of it COULD have happened, but not so much that it would get me in trouble with anyone named in the story. Essentially, the beginning is true. Then there are some bits from other stories mixed in that are also true. The only part that’s not true is the one about — ah, you already know that.

  • To Your Garden

    There’s a little bit of wine left, but I’m supposed to be sobering up now. I worry my tongue between my teeth as I roll the joint. (Grandma says I get that from my dad – the tongue thing, not rolling joints, though it wouldn’t shock me.) I’m trying to be precise, but I’m still not good at this part. Especially when I’m drunk. I lick the gum on the edge of the paper. Its a suitable distraction from more pressing thoughts, except that it isn’t at all.

    When I’m done, pleased with my rudimentary attempts, I slide out onto the porch to light up.

    (more…)

  • Conned

    I suppose there's SOME resemblance but not enough for me to actually be mistaken for Kevin. Right?
    I suppose there’s SOME resemblance but not enough for me to actually be mistaken for Kevin. Right?

    “Is Kevin signing today?”

    The fan was earnest. I thought he was joking. Surely he could see the difference between me and Kevin Smith.

    The artist looked at me, expectant.

    I didn’t know what to do. This was the first time I’d been mistaken for anyone famous. I was sitting down so he couldn’t tell I’m five or six inches taller than Kevin but even so. The fan held his issue of Kevin’s current work which the artist had just scrawled on. The artist smiled.

    “Not today,” I said and smiled.

    (more…)

  • Going for Broke

    In the beginning, the poker game had been my idea. I invited a few guys from the army for a friendly game. No stakes, just a fun way for a few of us from our old unit to kill a Friday night.

    At first it was just Pete, Daniel, Johnny, and me. We pretended we were playing in a big game like those guys in Atlantic City. But we spent most of the night eating and drinking as much as playing cards. Soon I invited a couple of the younger guys from the steel mill, Wyatt and James, to join in. The monthly game became more of a party.

    Then James got sick and we were looking for a last-minute replacement to keep the numbers even.

    “What about Nathan?” Johnny asked.

    Nathan had been one of our crew, but he was also a bit of a blowhard. He’d been married to MaryAnn for about six months. Word was that he was looking for a reason to get out of the house. So we invited him to fill in.

    (more…)

  • Whispering Secrets to the World (Flash Fiction)

    She’d been keeping it secret for so long, and she wasn’t really sure why any longer. At one point in her life, her fears of rejection wouldn’t have been unfounded. But now… now things were different. There was no reason not to tell them. Except that finding the right words were difficult.

    No. The words were easy enough. It would only take three. It wasn’t finding the right words to say. It was finding the right time to tell them. Finding the right time to reveal everything.

    All of her friends knew of course. They’d known for years. There was only a small group of people left to tell. The most important group of people.

    The people whose reactions meant everything to her.

    And she was a coward. (more…)

  • Mom’s Last Ride

    The house I grew up in backed up to a funeral home. As a kid, I had no idea what that meant, really. It was just normal for their parking lot to be filled up on weekends with people in church clothes, and periodically their chimneys would spew smelly smoke.

    I still remember that smell. The smell of burning bodies.

    Looking back, I realize it’s a little morbid, growing up being accustomed to the smell of weekly cremation. We just saw the parking lot as a great place to ride our bikes, and the snow plow made for great heaps of snow to play on. I only went inside the place once, when I was covering for a friend’s paper route. I set the paper on the table inside and ran home as fast as I could.

    That was when I was older. (more…)

  • Leaving

    “I guess you know by now we’re leaving,” he says, tears freely falling down his face. My son, barely twelve years old, stands on a step-stool in front of a bookshelf full of knickknacks, a frayed yo-yo in his hands that he fiddles with, rolling it up and letting it fall before rolling it up again. He keeps his eyes downcast but can’t entirely hide his sobs or the glistening on his cheek.

    Of course I knew. I’m not stupid, despite what my wife thinks. I knew before he did. I’m pretty sure I’ve known for months, ever since I got sick the first time. Maybe I’ve known this was coming for years. But knowing doesn’t make it any easier.
    (more…)

  • Parade Violation

    Shaun wasn’t normally a guy who carried around a lot of hate in his heart, but after the day he was having, he found he had plenty of room for a little want-to-kick-his-ass.

    When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Shaun saw his brother’s suitcase by the door. He took it as a good sign. Maybe Neil understood how serious this was.

    Shaun found the little prick sitting at the kitchen table. His kid brother, a twenty-four year old fuck up whose life ambition was to own a car wash, was fidgeting in his seat, but Shaun suspected it was an act. Neil had a general idea of what contrition should look like, but he lacked depth and sincerity, so he never quite pulled off seeming sorry about anything.

    (more…)

  • Based on Actual Events (Week of February 24)

    Adversity is the universe's way of saying your life was too boring to be a good book.Life is filled with stories. Some lives are interesting because of their historical context, like Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House series. Others lives are only interesting for a brief period of time because of some tragic event that happened — such as Alive, the story of the 1972 Andes flight disaster that led to the survivors resorting to cannibalism.

    The point here — and I do have one — is that our stories are often rooted in the real world. We may build fantastical worlds with flying airships and robot servants, monsters and mad scientists, but even these stories to some extent are built on our lives. Maybe the heroine in the story is patterned after an old girlfriend. Or perhaps the undead creatures coming for the hero are the sticky-fingered, snot-nosed children you babysat last year.

    This week, the contributors at the Cafe have been asked to submit a flash fiction story based on real-life event. We’ve left it to them to decide how much of their real lives are being reflected in these pages. Maybe only the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Or maybe the story has been stretched and mangled beyond recognition (the way Hollywood tends to treat screenplays that are “based on actual events”).

    We hope you enjoy this month’s confabulations. Be sure to give some feedback on your favorite stories.

    Until Next Week,

    The Cafe Management