Share The Dare Of The 99 Cents.

Long-reads, long form, really? Hows bout that Long Goodbye, youse guys.

No more pithy preachy paragraphs on politics, or eye rhymes rinsed in culture and closure like scribbles on keepsake bar napkins damp to share but only to stare, and stare at some more, and all the while, all alone. Woe, wallow, whatever, me.

Share is the operative word, as well as the guiding principal for these two damn decades of web postings, but enough of this nonsense, as all those doings are done, and all that divvying up has dried out.

If I’m going to key the board, tell the tale, rhyme the orange, set the scene, only to just give it all away, then why not play, “.99 cents is the new free.”

So it seems to me that caution is the only thing preventing me from capturing all that less than a dollar a pop golden ring. Cha-ching.

That’s the sound resulting from 35 to forty thousand words of genre garbage gussied up with some contemporary Beltway speak, conspiracy forum doomsday scenarios, a hero with a serious flaw, and a leading lady with legs as long as the Washington monument is tall.

I’m calling this endeavor, not the aforementioned book, but this effort, “Writing Fallow Fiction To Quit The Filter Tips Once and For All and Forever.” Catchy ain’t it. And is it blowing smoke to suggest that it all has a, self-help trying too hard to be semi-hip, e-book kinda ring to it. Cha-ching.

So first things first. Mirror the content of this site, to a name appropriate other to better pimp the book(s) and highlight style, and display old work, while offering a modicum of new post concerning the inside “slow biz” of the authoring process, all in the hope of hustling a few to feel vested enough to download my digital telling and then they, hopefully, retelling others to do said same. I can already feel that fat and fresh five dollar bill flying my way. Which is five dollars more than I’ve received in giving it all away, anyway. Woe, wallow, whatever, me.

And other possibilities speak to the promise of a big payday. Like Flash Fiction, leads to prose poems, leads to poetry collections, and how to’s as in how to spin the yarn, manage the muse, put the I in Eye Rhyme. Cha-ching. Cha-ching. Cha-ching.

So step one is done. Site mirrored. And culling is underway. And on December 31, New Year’s Eve, after almost twenty years of posting on the web to simply share, I will post, with that understand and intention, for the very last time. And then, Snz and I will raise a glass and toast to, “Writing Fallow Fiction To Quit The Filter Tips Once and For All and Forever,” and bid, adieu.


I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.

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You Know You Want To Opine

Subjects Matter

last legs 4

sharing marginalia of the moment
with poesy pretensions on parade–
for over a decade


r.douglas & Snz

Timely Post Here

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