jake – Page 58 – The Jake of All Trades

A Year in the Life

Some friends of mine are doing a 365 day art project. Create something every day for a year and post it online. the idea being that you are thinking of and then creating art every day for a year.

And I can think of a thousand reasons why I shouldn’t do this. But one that is why I should: I want to. So I am in. I suspect that in the end my number will not be 365, but I am ok with that. The thought, the intention is to set aside time for what I love, drawing, writing, pictures, whatever, each and every day.

The hope I have is that the creation habits I have now will become even better and I will get a few new ones along the way.

What will you get out of me? Who knows. I’ll be posting pictures on flickr, random lines and such on twitter, longer things here. I plan to do a monthly summary post here about what I have done, but again, I’d not be surprised if I didn’t have 12 of such entries. Not everything will find itself online, a story or poem may live in a notebook rather than the web, but I’ll at least tease you with the title.

I will not be punishing myself for missing days, but that is under a single caveat: I am not backing out either.

So this is how 2011 is going to be.

Moving Day

Well there comes a time in each blog’s life where it is time to move on, to set out on your own. That time for the Jake-of-all-Trades is now moved from here to my own space on my own.

This post will be both the final post on midatlantichorror.org and the first on jacobhaddon.com. Same look, same level of rambling, just a new place to call home. The plan is to start bringing more things online, more creative ventures, and to start this by setting up my site as the hub for whatever strange ideas i come up with.

So if you find yourself at my previous address, think of this as my forwarding address.

https://jacobhaddon.com/blog

Some Short Fiction

I saw this article on NPR about ‘hint fiction’

http://www.npr.org/2010/11/12/131276783/-hint-fiction-celebrates-the-extremely-short-story

Really, Really short stories. Reminded me of Necon books flash fiction (http://www.neconebooks.com/flash.htm) which I have submitted a few things to.

Long fiction has its own set of difficulties. Personally, I have been most successful with a standard short story length to work with, especially in the realm of horror. In horror where mood and atmosphere are so important it is easy for a long work to turn into more action/horror or mystery/horror.

Short, short fiction has a completely different set of issues. How do you convey plot, characterization or even setting in less than 100 words? How do you tell something in less than 140 characters? It is hard, and yet easy too. We already tell these stories to each other as we talk.

I have found it an interesting format to play with, and while none of my stories have been accepted at Necon Books yet, I thought I’d post them anyway. These are 100 words or less, so slightly longer than the ones in the NPR post.

Unbound

He knelt down in front of me, running the edge of the short curved blade over my cheek. The blade had been coated in rust, but a recent sharpening had created a silver edge.
“This is going to hurt,” he said, looking in my eyes.
“You have no idea,” I replied, the bindings on my left hand finally becoming loose enough to slip off.

Father Knows Best

My son stood in his underwear in the center of the dining room. He held a long kitchen knife in both hands near his face and was slowly running his tongue along it.
Crimson covered the blade, his face and body, and splotches could be seen throughout the room.
“How many times,” I started, in my stern father voice pointing one finger at him, “do I have to tell you? This is not what it means to ‘have a friend over for dinner’?”

Trick or Treat

Her high heals made a clicking sound that echoed off the buildings in the alleyway.
“Happy Halloween,” he said.
She turned.
“Are you following me?” She asked. He did not answer.
“Trick or treat,” he asked.
“Trick,” she said, smiling, pulling out a concealed blade and stabbing it deep into his ribcage.
“I was thinking treat,” he replied, grabbing her shoulders and sinking his fangs into her neck.