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(Fark)   His prepositions are preposterous. His adverbs have an adverse effect on adjectives, and his cat has subjunctive claws. His metaphors are like similes and his similes are not. He is the strangest writer on Fark, and this is your Fark Writer's Thread   (fark.com) divider line
    More: CSB, Collective bargaining, Cascading Style Sheets, Metaphor, Comment, Washington Redskins, adverse effect, collective bargaining, best short fiction  
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637 clicks; posted to Main » and Discussion » on 15 Jul 2020 at 3:10 PM (1 year ago)   |   Favorite    |   share:  Share on Twitter share via Email Share on Facebook



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2020-07-15 3:02:01 PM  
The 2020 Fark Fiction Anthology is open for submissions!  We're looking for the best short fiction up to 10,000 words in any of the following genres:

Fantasy
Science Fiction
Humor
Horror
Mystery/Suspense/Thriller


As always, entries will be judged by our crack team of editors and farkers, and the best submissions will be published in paperback and Kindle e-book editions!  Best of all, all proceeds will go to St. Jude Children's Research Hospital, so it's all for a good cause!

Have a story to tell?  Want to show your fellow your literary genius?  Send us what you've got!

Submissions close on July 31, so get them in quick!

The 2020 Fark Fiction Anthology Official Entry And Submissions Page


Previous anthologies:
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2020-07-15 3:03:55 PM  
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2020-07-15 3:14:24 PM  
Go home, Jackie Chiles. You're intoxicated, inebriated, sloshed, soused and smashed.
 
2020-07-15 3:20:09 PM  
And every word is a lie, including the "and" and "the".
 
2020-07-15 4:43:27 PM  
While on staycation this week, I hope to get my main story critted. Also reached the halfway mark on Deflection Point, 25 stories, only took 7 years. Got to start publishing those suckers.
 
2020-07-15 4:56:25 PM  
Really, there was no point to it.  But there he was, sitting as his keyboard, typing away.  He fantasized that what he was writing had a point, but in his heart he knew that in the long run it really didn't matter.   Because of his extensive library, he felt compelled to add his particular synthesis.  In fact, he had once shocked a friend by merely saying "I don't know".

Yet he persisted, rambling on as if he were going to eventually tie his stream-of-consciousness thoughts with some sort of intellectual ribbon into a neat little package.  But like life itself, there was no identifiable plot.  No story arc that makes sense.  It was simply random words that made coherent sentences, but as a whole, they were wanting of coherence.

The low hiss of the air conditioner.  Someone a few doors over mowing their lawn.  The 'clink' of a dish being put in the sink.  The high wailing creak of a door hinge.  The "chuff" of a radio breaking squelch.  He smiled, as the radio, sitting on a quiet frequency, conveyed no more intelligence to its listener that the sporadic clacking of keys on the keyboard.

Why decided on this course of action he really wasn't sure.  Was it random?  How far down that rabbit hole would he go?  Was it some high-level thinking that brought him to this situation, or was it some neurons firing randomly?  Perhaps it was down at the level of quantum mechanics.  Did it go that far?  Certainly, it couldn't be ignored, but at what level does thought become thought?  Perhaps more importantly, does it matter?

Pausing, he remembered the frog that had been a sort of mascot/class room pet in third grade.  It had a very definable set of behaviors.  For example, when it noticed movement, it would orient itself towards the movement, then jump towards it, and if the parameters were right (size and distance), it would flick it's tongue out.  It was something you could actually put into pseudo-code.  Was his behavior like that?

"Nah".  His behavior was far more complex.  You couldn't write pseudo-code them.  He wasn't pre-programmed.  He was more subtle. less predictable, capable of making higher-level judgments.   Of course, not all of them were necessarily the best decisions, but humans aren't frogs.  Humans being human will make mistakes, but rare was the person who, when grabbing a hot dish as a youngster, didn't learn to stay away from things that are hot.

Still, there was some deep, nagging familiarity between what he saw in the frog and what he saw in himself.  Too often, he thought, his behavior seemed preprogrammed.  "Maybe it's just the way we learn things", he mused.  After all, humans, while capable of deep thought, are also creatures of habit.  Who, he reasoned, hasn't driven home from work on "automatic pilot", responding to traffic and being alert but all of a sudden finding themselves closer to home than they thought?

Was this how the frog worked too, just at a less complex level?  What made a being intelligent?  Was it language?  Was it recognition of your environment?  Tool use?  Tool creation?  After all, the frog was more efficient at doing certain things than he was.   He shrugged it off.  Again, the feeling was that he was *OBVIOUSLY* more intelligent and more aware of his surroundings than some amphibian with a brain the size of a pencil point.  "I'm sitting at a computer, an amazingly complex human created tool, expressing thoughts that are simply beyond anything a frog can comprehend".

And yet.

And yet.

There was still that indefinable feeling.  The COVID-19 crisis had meant that pretty much everyone had spent the last few weeks between the same four walls.  "Ah, *THAT'S* what it is!".  It's simply cabin fever.  He's spent so long in his house, it's starting to feel like the terrarium Kermit (well, what else do you think third graders would name a frog?) was housed in decades ago in his old classroom.   That's why he had those feelings.

Satisfied with his ability to correctly and accurately express both internally and in writing why he felt that way, he got up and made some dinner, mixed an after dinner drink, and put in "20,000 Leagues Under The Sea", the 1954 Disney version.  It had been one of his favorites as a child.  He started dozing off before the end of the film.  "Probably made that drink a bit stiffer than normal....."

The next day, 14.671% of the Merzeplian students had notes excusing them from his dissection on moral grounds.  The pedagogue thought it outrageous that so many would be absent, but his appendages were tied by the administration.
 
2020-07-15 9:35:28 PM  
His dangling participles have Prince Alberts and a fine chain to leash them to their sentences.
His articles are all definite, and all of his nouns countable.
His interjections are considered fully-realized diatribes in philosophical circles.
His sentence diagrams are fractal.
 
2020-07-16 4:08:55 AM  
Reality is just a metaphor
And that metaphor is a metaphor
For another metaphor

🙈🙉🙊

I heard some poseur in coffee shop saying that years ago, and all the young ladies around him said, "Oh my gosh, that's so deep!" And I had a similar thought, but with a different adjective.

Getting closer to finishing my short story for The Anthology, I keep saying just one more day, then email it tomorrow. But my editing is still in the "fine tuning" phase and not quite into the "just fiddling around" phase, also known as "painting legs on the snake."

But in the last few days, while focusing on hammering down all the rough edges, I've gotten a half-dozen story ideas, which I jot into my little notebook of story ideas. I find that very, very useful as I often have what I call "half an idea." There is the start of a good idea, but it needs fleshing out, or perhaps there might be a key skill I don't possess to develop the idea. But sometimes a second idea pops in your head That makes the first one work.

Also, I ordered a new guitar (acoustic electric) as a belated unbirthday present to myself. I haven't played for years.

I also plan on painting after finishing this story, a couple canvases of my friend's bar that just closed in January, after opening right before Prohibition ended. I wrote an article for the smallville newspaper about its closing, and even wrote myself into it, with my "comedy debut" at open Mic night there, telling pirate jokes. Some of them, I had to admit, were rated Rrrrrr. Anyway, Associated Press "reprinted"  my article, or a condensed version of it that sounded like a book review, and that convinced me to finish my Journalism degree, which led me to move to another city just days before the Shutdown... And that's another story. It fills five notebooks so far.

So that bar, The Silver Dollar Club, now has very special meaning for me, and the development of my writing, so I'm looking forward to making a couple canvases of it for my friends who worked there, from my photo that AP reprinted.
 
2020-07-16 6:43:37 PM  
Using my vast experience as a software engineering release train expert, I decided my new short story was good enough to ship (i.e., the deadline was looming) and emailed it in to FarkFiction.net yesterday.    Do we get any confirmation that the submission was received?
 
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