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When A.I. Fiction Zigs, We Zag
Here’s the concrete face I got for Christmas and can’t wait to embed in a stone wall somewhere deep in the woods. Let the moss grow, and someday a stranger will happen across this grimacing little guy and wonder… what does THIS mean?! It’s strange, the power of graven images. In my faux ruins, towering stone walls where I’ve embedded other faces and fragments of statuary, local kids have automatically gathered wild flowers and left them like offerings.
At least I guess it’s kids. On occasion I simply find a wilted bouquet, or a necklace of flowers looped around an old, mossy face. Like pennies left on tombstones.
Which Brings Us to… Harry Truman & a Cake?
Is that Truman, the man who dropped the atom bomb? Going gaga over a coconut cake? It’s a big, studio 8-by-10 glossy, but with no explanation on the back. Whatever we scribble on the reverse side, it’s going to have to go into a good-sized book.
Please, tell me what’s going on here? Who’s the pretty girl? Is this “cake” a secret weapon baked and ready to go into the Pacific Theater?
Which Brings Us to the Brad, Chad & Plaid Challenge!
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Who Wore It Better…?
MRKooper: “We just got matching tattoos.”
Jake Gardner: “We always never talk about it.”¹
Maegan Heil: "You're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?"
Rebecka DavisJohnson: “didn't even ask if he could barrow my shirt.”²
Emory Willis: “How to get rid of fruit flies permanantly.”³
Mia Maeve: “We called it The Wisconsin.”
Dan: “They did it.”⁴
Bryan Wiler: “WE SHOULD HAVE CALLED!”
Peaky Progger: “Poor Becca.”
Rick KC: “I still feel you inside me.”⁵
Martina Courtney: “He was enough.”⁶
And Our Winner Is:
Maegan almost, almost won it. So close, but sad and tawdry takes the day. This week’s package goes to:
Rick KC: “I still feel you inside me
Rick, please contact The Cult and let me know how to inscribe your prize books, and where to mail them.
For everyone else, please chime in below on the Cake Photo. Tell me what I’m NOT seeing in this lovely picture.
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In rereading The Shining this past week, I’m reminded how toward the end the hotel becomes a place where the past and present exist at the same time. Overlaid like “a bad double-exposure,” as it were.
How can the style and language of your story reflect that idea? How can you collapse the past, present, and the future while still making sense?