Jim the Writer

Main Content

Welcome to Jim’s

www.jimthewriter.net
Click to enter

Forever Hold Your Peace

Tony shuddered when the tinkling started. He sat in a sparsely populated corner of the hall, far from the head table, closer to the keg, drinking beer out of a plastic cup. As the tinkling grew in volume, Tony kept his eyes on the wet rings his cup had made in the paper tablecloth. A cheer arose. He knew she was kissing him, and the thought ate him alive. …

Grant’s Last Campaign

On a porch near Saratoga Springs, he gathers his forces from a rattan chair. The Great Captain, bundled in blankets against the summer air. Death is close, tasting like a damp cigar. “Grant’s Last Campaign,” the newspapers call it. He scratches away. Shiloh, The Wilderness, Cold Harbor. Has he said …

The Tiny Shop of Hope

She was a writer, working on a book about antique furniture restoration. Her research was a collection of disparate facts. No theme, no center. Would it ever come together? Would anyone care if it did not? Aside from her publisher, of course, whose deadlines were scratched in granite.She went on …

Ranson’s Beard

Ranson's beard was older than his daughter, the corporate attorney who'd moved to Oregon to get as far from him as North America allowed. He wasn't shaving without due consideration. He'd grown it the summer of Lillian's pregnancy. He was teaching philosophy in Ohio, and working on his book. One …

[Read More...] about Ranson’s Beard

Ship

"Ship, tell me a story," the traveler commanded. "Long or short, sir?" asked a disembodied contralto. "Short. I grow sleepy." "Happy? Sad?" "Happy. I desire a pleasant hibernation." "Very well. There once was a gentle woman who loved a man from Autumn World." "I …

[Read More...] about Ship

Timing is Everything

Fellowes, carrying orders for the 3rd Division, stood in the sandy track, clutching the dispatch case against his side like a talisman. Across the field, smoke rose from a distant blue tree-line. Small groups of men moved about the field. Fellowes started toward one group. All around him, dark …

Love and the Summer Night

He was a peasant, a man of the soil. Or so he claimed. She never believed him. He owned a farm house, but someone else owned the barn and fields. His hands were huge and strong, but sensitive. A potter's hands. "You're an artist," she said. "Admit it." They were in bed, katydids singing through the …

About me

As you have probably figured out, my name is Jim and I am a writer. For many years, I was a college writing teacher, too -- among many other life roles. I have another, more popular blog called Life After Carbs. It's about losing weight on a reduced carbohydrate diet. And it's about me -- my favorite …

[Read More ...] about About me

El Morro

The Desire to Leave a Mark ... El Morro (the headland) stands in western New Mexico, and is also known as Inscription Rock. At the base of El Morro is a pool of water that for centuries attracted parched travelers to the spot, many of whom carved dates, names, and messages (including petroglyphs) into the …

[Read More ...] about El Morro

Main Content

Welcome to Jim’s

Tags