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Posts from the “Fiction” Category

Bovary on Fire: A Tragedy in One Act

Posted on March 5, 2010

THE CHARACTERS: REED, a man in his 30s with light brown hair and a long, open face. He wears glasses on occasion, mostly when he’s driving or reading small type. When he’s not using them they rest in the breast pocket of his shirt. He’s reading small type as the play opens, in particular a newspaper, international news section. So they’re not in the breast pocket of his shirt. Also, Reed is dressed casually for a man of his means. Shoes, jeans—but clean and crispjeans, probably ironed. Yet they’re also comfortable and well worn. Basically, they’re the kind of jeans you’d imagine on a guy with the first name “Reed.” This is important to notice, because as the play opens this could be Reed’s first vacation day…

Frank Xing

Posted on February 12, 2010

This is a short story I wrote many years ago. In 2001, it was published in a tiny literary magazine specializing in unusual and strange fiction called “The Missing Fez,” which has apparently gone defunct — probably because it had a ludicrous name. I sent them the manuscript on a lark, and they sent me back an acceptance letter enclosed with a check for $25. Which is breathtaking, to be honest, because should you be lucky to make it out of slush and into print, you shouldn’t necessarily expect money — even at a halfway-decent literary magazine. I don’t recall ever getting a print copy of the actual magazine (also unusual and strange, since your average literary magazine’s standard currency is sample copies). “TMF”…

Write-by-Numbers: “Golden Goose”

Posted on March 31, 2009

I woke up one morning around 2:30 a.m. last month having dreamed about a man who suddenly developed the power to shit money. I got no further than that. I could sense on some subtle emotional level that a book about a man who shits money wasn’t the sort of idea that would lead to a rich vein of wealth, praise, artistic freedom, book tours, &c., &c. My guess: the constant descriptions of shitting money would be a stumbling block. But maybe I’m wrong. Perhaps in these troubled economic times, shitting money is just what people want out of their literary entertainment. So what say we brainstorm this one together? 1. There’s a man living somewhere in an average mid-sized city in America at a regular…