Jim the Writer

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Two Boys, a Girl, and a Fire

Paul and I drew water from the lake in plastic buckets and dumped it on the coals. Steam rolled skyward. From her perch on a nearby log, Susie clapped. Paul lifted his bucket as if to throw water on her. "Don't you dare!" Susie darted away across the sand as he chased her with the empty bucket. I guess that was when I knew. So it was no big surprise when she …

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 Parisian Sky

In the Latin Quarter, we were given a dusky room with an alley view. I frowned. I grumbled. "The room is dismal," I told the proprietor. "It looks nothing like your website." He was as old as the cobblestones. …

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The Day After Thanksgiving, 1977

On the day after Thanksgiving in 1977, I was alone in my apartment, writing. Nobody called it “Black Friday” then. It was just the day after Thanksgiving. I don’t know when it became the high holy day of American consumerism. …

How Nan Got Her Maple Trimmed

Nan wanted a bough or two cut off the big silver maple in our backyard. So I hired a crew. Then she was hot to put in her garden and didn't like having to wait. "It's too early to plant, anyway," I said. When the crew got here, she was hot for the climber. "You should see the hunk trimming my …

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 …

If the gods be merciful

The good people of Kal were fixing to burn another witch. The event would close the Festival of the Tyrant’s Demise. “Third one this week,” Proffer said as we watched the wood-stack grow. “They must like the smell. The evil--” “Judge not, lest you be judged,” I said hastily. And in a lower voice: …

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 …

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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 …

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