by Lynn Lipinski | Aug 26, 2014 | Los Angeles, Profiles, Writing
Ever read that melancholy writing that romanticizes alcoholic, desolate characters as broken geniuses hiding their light under dirty hair and scruffy clothes? I’ve heard it called drunken literature. Charles Bukowski and William Burroughs owned the genre. I just...
by Lynn Lipinski | Aug 22, 2014 | Flash Fiction Friday, Writing
Jacob led the line of second-graders into the east entrance after the first recess bell rang. Even on pizza day, the hallway smelled musty and sweet just as he remembered from his own school days — a nostalgic combination of floor cleaner, old books and pots of...
by Lynn Lipinski | Aug 15, 2014 | Flash Fiction Friday, Writing
The cameraman said “rolling” and the red light over the lens glowed. The blond antiques appraiser slid his mirrored compact into his pocket and looked at Howard expectantly. “What did you bring to the show today?” “Train set. My...
by Lynn Lipinski | Aug 8, 2014 | Flash Fiction Friday, Writing
The heavy bass pulsed through my skin, alchemizing my old bones to stretchy, strong muscle. I danced and whirled and spun and slid, my body melting like liquid into the music. Then, silence. Laughter and the sound of high heels on wood floors echoed off of the dance...
by Lynn Lipinski | Aug 2, 2014 | Flash Fiction Friday
I fell into the dirt and dead leaves on the forest floor, banging my right knee on a rock and splintering my palms on rotten wood. I must have bit my lip too, because I tasted blood when I caught my breath. “Are we having fun yet?” Frieda said with a...
