Author: Christopher Winterberg

So Many Questions

Howdy. Hello. Heya. What’s up? What’s happening. It’s a new day. The sun shines, birds sing, flowers bloom. The pandemic is gone. Hold up. Wait a second. That can’t be right. *checks calendar. checks new calendar* Shit. Fuck. Shitfuck. Fuckshit.

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Goodbye 2021, You Filthy Bastard

It’s cliché as hell to say the lonely writer. Ehhh, it’s expected, even. The words go together like fired and chicken. Peanut and butter. Happy and new year. Yet, it’s sticks better than super glue to flesh. And it’s true.

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2020: The Year That Made You Wanna Kick People In The Nuts

So yeah, 2020 was just one big jizz face. It was stepping on Legos with bare feet. A three-finger prostate exam. A complete fuckery. An Ikea store. We moved from the teens to the twenties. The transition was smooth. Fine.

WHAT TO DO DURING YOUR PANDEMIC-QUARANTINE-ISOLATION-SELF-DISTANCING-DETACHMENT FROM SOCIETY

I dunno, maybe you were planning on building a social-distancing pillow and blanket fort. Maybe you were gonna watch Contagion because, you know, the current global pandemic isn’t scary enough. Or, and this is a hypothetical, you’re set on perfect

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The COVID-19 or as I’m calling it, THE TOILET PAPER SHORTAGE OF 2020

  *looks over shoulder while hugging remaining Charmin rolls. shifty eyes feel someone’s watching* I write this wondering what‘ll happen if there’s a real apocalypse. First, we‘ve come to know how Americans really feel about toilet paper so that’ll disappear

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You Wanna Write?

So… You wanna be a writer? Why? All joking aside, really though, why? Do you really need less sleep? Do you want more stress? Don’t you have enough misery in your life? What, you don’t loath yourself enough already? You

The Flashing

No, not the DC comics character. And NO, I’m not flashing anyone. Ever. Mostly, anyway. Flash Fiction. Not just really short fiction either. Flash fiction IS its own genre. I thought of the regular cliches when writing this: tell, don’t

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The Art Of Ambiguity

Which way does your writing go? I’ve said it before, Don’t be afraid to have an ambiguous ending. Allow the reader to imagine more; get all up in their kitchen and paint a picture in their headspace – and then

Writing IS Hard

I could just leave it at that. One singular sentence to sum up writing. Fits perfectly. Very apropos. But, no. There’s more. Lots more. It’s hard like getting out of bondage. Or a straight jacket. Or an insane asylum. For

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Today I Climb My Everest

I wanted to blog, then I didn’t. And this went round and round until, yeah, blog. I have reasons. Some real, others well… Anyway. Why the long road to blog? Because blogging takes work. It steals from other work. Writing

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