Monthly Archives: July 2011
No, I am not lying in a ditch somewhere. I promise.
Essentially, here’s the excuses:
- Working second shift. It sucks.
- My computer is virus-ridden and unusable.
- My phone just quit charging.
I’ll have a lovely post for you here in a few days. Maybe.
In the Flash Fiction section up above, you’ll find a 450-word (give or take) short piece of fiction that I hammed out lat night and this morning.
There wasn’t really a prompt that threw me into this subject, really. While I’ve been sitting at home
goofing off hard at work, they’ve been playing old James Bond films. I’m not really a fan of James Bond. Yes, I love Sean Connery, and I understand that the Pierce Brosnan films were made for my generation, but out of all of the Bond films I’ve seen, I’ve liked the remake of Casino Royale the most. Daniel Craig is fantastic, and Judi Dench is the most wonderful woman in the world. I wish I had her as a bonus grandma.
But looking at those old Sean Connery Bond films, there is something that I like: the way the film looks. Now, these were made in the sixties and seventies, true, so it doesn’t quite have that ’50s technicolor look that I was thinking of when I was writing about the woman in her backyard, but it’s close. I was thinking about women like Lucille Ball and Ginger Rogers. I always remember being aware, even as a little girl, of how odd the brightness of their lipstick stood out against their skin, but I remember also liking it, thinking that it was beautiful.
What’s the point of the story, you ask? If there is one, I didn’t put it there intentionally. I freewrote. Yes, I edited a little bit, but for the most part I just pulled that whole thing out of my butt. It’s a little odd at the end, I know, but I couldn’t think of how else to end it – that’s the way it wanted to go.
Care to provide a prompt for next week?