A Shout to the Void

I haven’t visited this website for almost a year! Where does the time go?

Maybe I should change the title of this blog to “I Wrote.”

Times are strange, humans of Earth. It looks to me like the planet has had enough of our shit and is in the beginning stages of exerting a little push-back. Countries that know the sound of existential threat have listened, and in those places, fewer people have died of Covid-19.

In places like United States of America, greed and hubris rule, and people are dying in a preventable catastrophe that takes as many lives each day as the September 11th attack. Well, there’s really no place like home, is there?

I’ve found it hard to write fiction for awhile, but I have been writing, and especially editing, for Content Workshop. I’m grateful to be in a situation that allows me to work from home during the pandemic. And, as Jason Isbell sings, I’m just lucky to have the work. I’m also fortunate to work with great people.

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I sold a reprint a few weeks ago, a welcome small victory. Thanks to Fresh.ink for picking up my short story, “The Grove,” which first appeared in print back in 2015, in Issue 3 of Bridge Eight Literary Magazine. Fresh.ink tells me to expect it online sometime in June.

My work-in-progress is another short story. It’s science-fiction this time, which is my true love. Many years ago–and I turned 54 three days ago, so when I say “many,” believe me–I read the great Nathaniel Hawthorne’s story “Rappaccini’s Daughter.” It stuck with me, and when I read it again more recently, it inspired an idea for something new.

I’m still running, four or five miles every two days. Lately, I’ve been running with a mask. Usually, it’s so early that I don’t see many people, but I slip the mask on before I pass someone on the sidewalk. Self-conscious as a tall man in a black mask, I make a point of wishing each person a cheery good morning. That also helps not to scare people when I’m coming up behind them. I hope. Although this morning, a large shaggy dog lunged at me when I spoke.

Thanks to that pet owner for having a good grip on the leash.

I’ll be back sooner than you have any reason to believe, dear readers…both of you. In the meantime, I wish you all the best in adapting to our new, not-so-fun reality. Hang in there. If you’re lonesome, send a message here, or on Twitter @steventhowell.





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