Make Mine a Guinness

Pegman took a stroll around my favorite city, Dublin, and despite the beautiful and historically significant sites, the stick man found a Corona Light billboard. I try to be culturally sensitive but light beer in Ireland?

Ridiculous!

I will not drink Corona, not with my feet in sand, not with pesos in my hand. I will not drink it any time. Not even with a bright key lime.

That being said, join me for a pint and some flash fiction with Pegman.

Make Mine A Guinness
by T. Delaplain

“Gimme a pint Paddy.”
“I’ll build it for ya Mick, let me get rid of the Yank drinking Mexican horse piss, kids today wouldn’t know their Guinness from their Smithwick.”
“No rush, herself is at a hen party for Mrs. Shea tonight. I told the Mrs. she was too old to be chasing the craic. Not the proper thing at all for an old girl. Imagine remarrying when Declan ain’t been dead but two years. A saint, I say. He never let a man raise a pint alone. They say it was the drink that took him, but I think it was the naggin’. It’ll be a cold day in hell when a man cain’t raise a Guinness without a fuss in Ireland.”
“I can see the bottom of that glass, can I start ya another, Mick?”
“No, thank ya kindly, I promised herself I’d have but one and I ain’t about confessing otherwise on Sunday.”
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I’ll be confessing to Dr. Seuss himself for that bad poetry. We will be raising a pint for St. Paddy’s Day in Loreto, Mexico next week. Believe it or not, we have an Irish born brew master in town so we’ll toast with a stout and dance to a Mexican/Celtic band.


How writing flash fiction helped me write a novel

I couldn’t have said it better. Check out Louise’s novels, The Sister and The Gift.

fabricating fiction

the-sisterWhen I started writing in earnest two years ago I created this blog and stumbled across a weekly flash fiction challenge called Friday Fictioneers. A photo would be posted each week and participants were invited to use the prompt to create a hundred word story.

It sounded fun and a good way to kick off my blog. Writing the first story was difficult. It took me ages to edit it down to 100 words. It was nerve wracking sending my first story out into the world but if I’m honest, I didn’t expect anyone to read it, but read it they did. I was soon enveloped into a supportive writing community who have critiqued with kindness, encouraged and soothed every step of the way on my journey to publication, commiserating with every rejection and celebrating my first two novels hitting No. 1 on Amazon. I am so grateful to those…

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Walking on Water, Fly Rod in Hand

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Photo credit: Ted Strutz

Walking on Water, Fly Rod in Hand
by T. Delaplain

“It’s all in the wrist, Trace.” My Dad’s line whipped behind him, slowly returned and walked across the calm water in a lazy “S”. I swore as my tangled fly drove its hook into my thumb.

“Try again, it’ll come.” He handed me his tattered creel. This relic of his youth held all his truths. They had shared the silent hours of meditation, the lonely farewells to his fishing buddies and the rapture of just being.

The fly rod, his staff.
The river, his bible.
The mountain, his chapel.

I recast with perfect pitch and rhythm.

Today’s sermon,”patience”.

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Some stories write themselves. A voice takes you along for the ride and you write. My Dad was a grand story teller and his advice was always given by example. This is his story. He had no use for churches but had an incredible reverence for our natural world and wild spaces. There was never a problem that couldn’t be solved with a fishing rod in hand. He believed that the best stories are about the one that got away, that the water always flows under the bridge so there’s no time for regrets and there’s always another opportunity around the bend. He believed in feeding any neighbor in need and often fished with that in mind. He had endless patience when teaching me how to fish or do long division. I still look to him for answers and sometimes those answers come in strange 100 word packages.

Take a seat in the chair and write a 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers.

Held In Memory

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Photo credit @Al Forbes

Held In Memory
by T. Delaplain

I slide into the backseat, lie on my back and imagine the moonlight. I’m assaulted with longing so intense that it can only be desire. The taste of your breath lingers still. I run my hand over the discolored upholstery. I can almost smell the vanilla ice cream mishap: kids and dogs and chaos.

My tears cloud the rear view mirror again. Continue Reading

When Faith Becomes Grief

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Thank you for the photo Dale Rogerson

When Faith Becomes Grief
by T. Delaplain

The familiar incense of candle wax, smouldering wicks and desperation forced the bile to rise in my throat. It had been a routine operation, on a common ailment, on a run-of-the-mill day, yet here I am with my extraordinary grief. Continue Reading

Integratron Me (Pegman Saw it Too)

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Integratron Me
by T. Delaplain

“It is my sincere hope that you enjoyed the TED talk and our walk through the electrostatic arc. I expect you to feel renewed and invigorated from your resonance sound experience. Mr. Tassel, having recently returned from outer space will be available to answer all questions concerning cellular rejuvenation and immortality. It’s safe to say having returned to us posthumously that he can be considered an expert in his field.

All participants will receive the usual probe before leaving the geomagnetic fields, so please loosen your undergarments. In conclusion, never underestimate Integratron’s multi-frequency electrostatic charger for the human body, which Van and I can personally attest to, will leave you with youthful vigor. Go forth, be vigorous, maybe consider extra fiber and a stool softener for a few days post probing and give generously to our time travel fund. Please don’t hesitate to donate over and above our usual and customary bargain fee of ten thousand dollars. The men in black are ready to receive you now.”

Call me a believer this is what Pegman and I saw in the sky above the remains of George Van Tassel’s Integratron.

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And these are photos circa 1950’s with the same cloud. Coincidence? I think Not!

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Take a walk with Pegman around Lander California. What do you see? Write about it and share. The challenge can be found here.

Silenced

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Photo credit at C.E.Ayr Thank you Sir.

Silenced
by T. Delaplain

“May I?”, La Señora lifted her wrist to check the time. “A text will arrive on the mobile in your left pocket in exactly twenty seconds. I assume that’s your phone Nando,” she raised a brow in invitation. “Trust me, by then “El Jefe’s” blood will be a faint whisper on the cafe floor and even the gringo’s news will have been sterilized.” Continue Reading