The Ballerina in Battery Park

The building was an older one, just a block from Wall Street in the heart of Manhattan’s Financial District, and its modest ten stories were dwarfed by towering modern skyscrapers.  The rooftop offered an amazing 360-panoramic view of the cavernous buildings that stretched into the clouds.  Their lit windows made checkered patterns against the enclosing walls of the city.  Looking out between the buildings was like gazing into the belly of a deep and narrow cave that stretched back forever into a darkness around the bend.

A grim view from a ferry taken from Jersey City to Manhattan.

About two years ago I made it one of my primary missions to hone my skills working in short fiction.  It was an area I had avoided and feared before (I am “davethenovelist” not “davetheshortstorywriter” afterall) but I decided it could be a welcome change of pace and something I could really dive into between novels.  It’s resulted in many stories and ideas, some of which I’ve now discarded or still linger to be fully fleshed out, others of which I have edited to death and/or submitted in various drafts to select literary magazines in print or online.  Along my journey, I read somewhere that the average writer will make at least 20 submissions before having their first story published.  Well, on the 13th try, I am finally seeing some returns on my investments of time and hard work. 

I am proud to say my short story, “The Ballerina in Battery Park” has been chosen for publication and awarded 3rd place in Scratch’s 2010 Spring Quarterly Contest.  In addition to immediate online publication it will be appearing in print in their annual anthology due out in the Spring of 2011 – stay tuned for details on how to purchase a copy!

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Do Not Make Me Stop This Bus

From the low-brow satire of Sacha Baron Cohen to the high-brow satire of Irene Nemirovsky…from an obscene film preaching tolerance to a museum depicting the obscene cost of intolerance…it was an interesting, albeit low-key and contemplative visit to New York City this weekend.

Here’s the rundown:

Saturday Morning:  I hopped on the bus and endured sitting behind a trio of non-stop nattering nitwits.  Luckily I had my Best American Short Stories  book with me, and I especially enjoyed reading Johnathan Lethem’s hilariously pretentious “The King of Sentences” in the context of sitting behind my unfortunately histrionic and vapidly loquacious travel companions.  If only I could come up with a perfect sentence to describe the situation that would make the King proud! Continue reading