billfriday.com

fictionary… 8 megapixel artist… bloody awful poet.

Archive for the tag “writers”

Misssion

mission

Did you make it through another day? 

If you’re reading this, you did.  Maybe I didn’t.  That’s not the point.  The point is you did.  All I was supposed to do was make it far enough to hand this off to you, and I did. 

My mission, accomplished.  Now, what’s your mission? 

What are you handing off to the next someone?  What will they hand off to the next?  Not my mission, not my monkeys.  I always wanted to say that.  My mission wasn’t to manage yours, it was to finish mine, and I did.  I know that because here you are, with my mission in your hands, making it your own. 

Did you make it through another day? 

If you wrote this, you did.

 

© Copyright 2016 William S. Friday

Advertisements

Bookcase 

The photo of a bookcase is a story. But the sketch of a bookcase a dream.  

What your bookcase says about you is more accurate than your bathroom medicine chest. More intimate than your sock drawer. More real than your worst nightmare. A habitation of ghosts, telling strangers about the who you once were, and the who you have become. 

But it is in the absence of books, in that space occupied by the future, where your one true story lives. In those books yet to be read, and yet to take their place with the ghosts of the past. 

And now, a question for the reader…

What books fill your bookcase like ghosts from your past, and what books would you like to have join them?

 

 © Copyright 2016 William S. Friday

30 Days of Night: #NaBloPoMo on the Graveyard Shift

30-days-pngIt’s been one year.

Three-hundred-sixty-five days, plus one leap day, and a couple thousand cups of coffee, since the last time I stared November in the face. 

And the first time November stared right back.

One year ago tonight, I got lost in something so frightening that, until I lived to see the end of it, I had always been too shaken by the very idea to even let myself speak its name.

NaBloPoMo.

To be asked, no… forced, to go through an experience so life-altering that some I once called friends never recovered.  Just 30 days on a calendar that, coincidentally, begin in the still quiet hours of All Hallows Eve.  When deals are done with whatever tells grown men and women that everything will be okay, if they just keep their hands and feet tucked inside the covers at night.

The name that, if you’re a writer, you know.

NaBloPoMo.  The writer’s boogeyman.

And every writer knows that, on All Hallows Eve, you can’t kill the boogeyman.

So here I am, one year later, and the boogeyman is back.  Only this time, he only comes out at night.  This year, very unlike last year, the world… my world… is lived from dusk till dawn.  And I write for the boogeyman on the graveyard shift, in November, during 30 days of night.

And for those of you who write in the safety of the day, NaBloPoMo is just another word.  Like sunshine, or coffee.  But for those of us who live to write at night, well…

It’s waiting.

 

*for a Facebook LIVE reading of this post, CLICK HERE.

 

© Copyright 2016 William S. Friday    

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: