Tuesday Fiction: Take the Slow Train to Brooklyn

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In the event you think all I ever do is work blue, drink too much and sling bad musical advice, here’s a chance to peek at my literary life. Of course, this little exercise in flash fiction is all about a caustic, down-on-her-luck dipsomaniac who stumbles into a subway jam fest, but I prefer to think of these as just a few of the many leitmotifs of my life, rather than signposts on the road to Betty Ford.


About WSW

Writer, wife, mother. Toiler in the bottomless, black, soul-sucking coal mine of domestic life. Thank God for the portable bar.

Posted on January 7, 2014, in Fiction and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 11 Comments.

  1. You rock. So I named you in this Word Press family thing. It’s not super demanding. I told everyone that you are coming to my house. Or I am coming to yours.

    • Thanks, Peach! C’mon by. The portable bar’s open 24/7 and there are definite advantages to living over a donut shop. We’ll leave it at that.

  2. I think Tom said it best…. You,lady, can write.

  3. Three dirty martinis, peanuts and popcorn…Grey Goose…Wendie, how’d you know? That was any random night in my life from 2004-2011 and the winter of 2012 (which we shall never speak of again). Loved the writing and rhythm of the piece – just like a sensuous, sultry blues/Marvin Gaye song. Oh…and now I see it’s filed under FICTION…are you…sure?

    • Fictionalized reality (come to think, you could describe most of my waking hours that way) does teeter on the border, but yes, it’s fiction. Thanks for twitting me, SueZ! I’d know those ankles anywhere.

  4. Wendi, holy s**t !! You can write your ass off. I loved it and want to see more. The water and the writing is fine.

  5. Nice piece! (Oh, that sounds dirty.) But I really liked your sharp, crisp writing style. Really invoked the senses, too. 🙂

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