If you like to read, and enjoy quirky, welcome. There are about 30 random things here for you. After you read a short story you may even find some personal comments/insights! The main purpose of creating this blog is for writers. I see so much written about writer's block, and honestly, I don't have it. Occasionally, I write short stories, longer stories, books, plays, one act plays, monologues, and sometimes I even think one is good enough to submit somewhere. Of course, when you submit a story to a magazine that receives 200 stories a month and publishes five, you'd better enjoy the process of writing. I'm not suggesting that I'm a good writer, merely that I can sit down and just start writing.

It is important to write, to constantly be working on your art. If you are constantly plagued by writer's block, perhaps you are being too selective in what you write about. With that in mind, I wanted to share with you some examples of my writing, from someone who can write all the time. Occasionally the topics are a bit strange, but I don't let that slow me down, I love to write and get to a finished product. Hopefully, by looking at some examples, you will say to yourself that phrase that all artists who visit MOMA in NYC say: "Well, I can do this!" That would be good, because you can! One of my posts is about a talking tomato. (You have to be able to do better than that!)

In part I'm trying to get some of my stuff in one place, so keep in mind I never claimed it was going to be an incredible read. You can decide that. I will tell you that occasionally I have a story in me that seems to fit the goal of a publication, and I try to write specifically with that goal in mind. Lately I've been considering publications that publish nonfiction memoirs, so some of the entries you'll find here will have that flavor. Perhaps this is a way to get past writer's block - find a publication looking for something that you'd like to write. It seems like memoir-based publications may be a good place to start, because we're all experts in our own families. I'm using a blog here to share some of the things I've written; the blog format is not ideal, so you need to poke around a little at old posts, to see if you can find a story or something else that may interest you.

Two last items. None of these are finished products. I usually get to a point where I have something written, and then stop. If it is something I may decide to submit for some reason, I'll finish formatting, following the specific rules of the magazine or organization (the rules are alwaysdifferent). If you do see something in here that you may be interested in using, don't hesitate to contact me.

So welcome to my blog. Welcome to my writing. Write, people, write! It feels good.

Please also consider getting a copy of my first book, Saturday Night at Sarah Joy's. All Royalties go to the Hurricane Sandy New Jersey Relief Fund. Please check out the book's blog at:

Thank you!

© 2012 John Allison

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

The Little Girl and her Sailboat

Her first memory is waking up on the little sailboat.
Painted on the side was a sentence she had not written.
" I cannot escape the consequences of my actions," it said.
She hoisted up the sail because she was hungry,
and found a little island, where there was a little house.
They gave her two loaves of bread, in exchange for taking them
to another island and back.
Soon she became part of the great lake, shuttling people back and forth
taking care of them
helping them to live their lives.

Each time she would see a white flag flying, and go to a little island to
take care of its people, she would ask them
"do you know who I am?"
"do you remember where I came from?"
and many of them seeemed to have something to say, but not enough to help.
So she remembered all that they said, to try and figure out
the answers to her

One person thought she was from somewhere else, and that there, she is different.
One person thought that she was a gift to the lake.
One person thought that she was sent to the lake as a punishment.
One person said she should be happy where she is.
One person thought she should go back to a better place.
The people on the islands guessed a lot
and made up things they thought people wanted to hear
Now life must go on at the lake
and on the little islands
and she is an important part of the lake
but one day a question popped out (or in)
"what about me?"
and with that one question
which just popped out
she could not stop thinking of where she came from
and who she was
and she didn't think that going to another lake,
while a nice thing to do,
was going to help her to understand herself.
So she sailed away from the islands
to the end of the lake, where no one goes.
She had bread on the boat to last for two weeks.

When the water started moving so fast
that the sails did not matter
a gnome appeared on the boat, of course.
The gnome pointed into the sun and said that there was a tall waterfall
and that if she wanted to take the little sailboat over the waterfall
there would be a wonderful place at the bottom
or so he'd heard.
The gnome said that there is a lake at the bottom of the waterfall
or so he'd heard
and it is so much different and so beautiful there
but even if it is beautiful
as he has heard
the girl in the boat would still be a girl in a boat.
Perhaps the lake would be wonderful
with free bread everywhere
but you just never know.

Before the gnome disappeared from his visit to the boat
just as he had appeared
he tied a rope onto the boat
that leads back to the lake, and said it could be used

The girl in the boat looked around, and realized that this part of the lake,
the lake she had known for all her remembered life,
was different.
Exploring here would be interesting too.
But the possibilities of the waterfall were great indeed
and late one night  she decided, alone
to point the little sailboat at the waterfall
and over the falls she went.

She did not land in another lake
she did not land at all
she fell with her little boat in the waterfall's water
and fell and fell and fell
and she felt terror
then she felt like she may now be part of
a falls that falls forever
with no lake or no end,
and a day passed, and another day,
and she ate her bread,
and lightly held in her hand
the rope that would take her back
to a part of her old lake that was so different,
a part that looked new.

When she ran out of bread
she and her little boat were still falling,
passing an occasional branch,
but falling alone.
She wondered if there was an end,
if all her questions would be answered there,
if she should use the rope.
If there had been someone with her to talk to,
she'd have felt better about believing that
there was no right choice.
She wished there was something more insightful
than words like
"it's not the destination, but the journey"
but no one could know.
So every choice was the same - something new to learn
with each one,
hoped the little girl in the sailboat.
© 2012 John Allison

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