Skip to main content

Hide and Seek


The first story I actually had accepted for publication was “Hide and Seek.”  It appeared in Danse Macabre XXXIII, Erzählungen (March 2010).  Danse Macabre subsequently changed servers, and my story is no longer available there.  I’m hoping eventually to have some of my short stories republished in a collection, but first I have to get more of my short stories published period.

I remember clearly the inspiration for “Hide and Seek.”  One day during lunch I’d wandered to the space around a vacant building.  It was one of those single-story, multi-purpose monstrosities with no real character or charm.  The parking lot had weeds breaking through the pavement, and the building on either side, probably built by overly optimistic speculators, also stood vacant.  It was rather peaceful.



Having been a writer since a very young age, I habitually carry either paper or a notebook in my pocket.  I found a bench with chipping paint, sat down, pulled out my paper, and began to write.  The story began as a description of the desolate scene around me, explored by a single wanderer.  The loner wondered where all the people had gone.

They had, of course, fled from him.  It wasn’t the most profound story—in fact, it was mostly written in fun.  Nevertheless, the alienation expressed was real enough.  Like these abandoned buildings, our society produces us and alienates us.

Every profession to which I’ve ever expired is now considered obsolete.  I teach, but my fellow professors—some of them my best friends—have found themselves displaced as universities leave behind the liberal arts and become more like unimaginative businesses.  I had considered other careers in my life, but I’ve watched as they’ve slowly followed the brontosaurus into not just extinction, but utter non-existence.

The well from which we draw our fiction is the well within our souls.  My experience of life has been that of the outsider.  The alien.  My hopes and dreams are fairly simple; I’ve never felt entitled to much in life.  Yet even those hopes and dreams frequently remain out of reach.  And so I write.

I’m not naive enough to suppose that my stories will ever find a wide following.  Some of them, like “Hide and Seek,” have already disappeared.  The response of the writer, however, is to stay the course.  Write the revolution.  And maybe some day somebody will listen.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Dusty

  My, this thing is dusty.   My fans—hi, Mom!—perhaps believe me to have perished in the pandemic.   No, it was nonfiction’s fault. Since the pandemic began I’ve had two nonfiction books published and have written a third.   With a nine-to-five job something’s got to give.   Unfortunately it’s been fiction. Well, the groundhog didn’t see his shadow yesterday, so it must be safe to come out.   I shuffled away the rejection notes and began submitting again.   I’ve got a backlog of weird stories and maybe some new publishers have emerged? The thing is, don’t you just hate it when you’re in the mood to submit and some lit journal has its window for submissions firmly shut?   My last story, “ The Hput, ” was published about three years ago.   Oh, I’ve submitted since then, but with no traction.   Well, it is winter. I’ve got a lot of stories lined up.   I’ve been sending them out again, dreaming of making a dime at what I love doing best.   When you’ve been writing for half a century, you l
Post a Comment
Read more

Neglectful Parents

If I was a parent I’d be accused of neglect.   I have to say 2017 was the least published year of recent memory.   Not that I’ve been neglecting my fiction, but I had a non-fiction book accepted and I work full-time and commute to that job—you get the picture. I’ve also had a personal epiphany.   If you can write, you should get paid for it.   I know a publicist (not my own; I don’t have one) and she says she won’t let her authors even write an op-ed if they don’t get paid.   I guess I’d never get published then. My Medusa novel had a flicker of hope for a few moments.   A publisher actually wrote back asking for the rest of the manuscript.   That’s never happened before.   Then the editor disappeared.   Even called me by the wrong pseudonym.   I’ve gotta wonder about that because the second half of the novel’s even better than the first. While looking for an agent for my non-fiction (couldn’t find one of those either) I came across several who said they liked quirky ficti
Post a Comment
Read more

Too Much Writing?

  Has this ever happened to you?   Have you written a story that you’ve completely forgot?   Not only completely forgotten, but made unfindable?   I play games with my stories and sometimes the joke’s on me. Okay, I suffer from graphomania.   I write constantly.   I do try to keep organized—I use a spreadsheet that has all my submissions on it.   It has rejection/acceptance dates (mostly rejection).   Lots of information. I decided to list on it every story, whether finished or in process.   There are far too many (mostly in process).   When I finish a story I often submit it.   If I get burned, I’m shy about resubmitting.   I often rewrite at this stage.   Then, when I feel brave enough, I try again. The spreadsheet is color-coded.   There, in the color that indicates finished and ready to submit is a story cryptically titled “The Password.”   I don’t remember this story.   I can’t recall what it was about or why I thought it was ready to publish. Looking through my electronic files,
Post a Comment
Read more