Stephen L. Thompson’s August 2011 Newsletter

Howdy,

Welcome to my electronic newsletter, covering August 2011.

My publication news for the past month:

None.

* * *

This month I wrote 5,242 words, giving me a total this year of 31,987. Again my goal is to write a total of 50,000 words this year, and it’s starting to look like I’ll make it.

* * *

Here is my story board at the end of August:

The purpose of my story board was to keep track of my stories that I’m not self-publishing.  I have started another list (just on a sheet of paper) for the stories I want in my next short story collection, but to try to keep things simple (ha ha) I’m only putting completed stories on that list.  The whole reason I just told you that, was so I could explain (if you were wondering) that the stories in the photo with a red “B” next to them are to mark the stories that are not finished, but I would like to put them in my next collection.

* * *

I did get around to writing a story for this month. It came about from an experience I had with my moving.  Enjoy.

Steve

A GOLDEN AGE

After kissing her husband Ron on the cheek, April turned to put the jug of milk in the refrigerator.  “What did you do today?” she asked.

“I started going through some of my dad’s stuff.”

April closed the refrigerator and rubbed Ron on the back.  “What did you find?”

Ron shrugged, then chuckled.  “There’s a lot of crap on TV these days.”

April stopped rubbing his back.  “How is that an answer?”

Chuckling some more, Ron explained, “I hooked up his VCR and started going through that box of VHS tapes he had.  I think it was just after the divorce that he started working night shifts and I guess he would put a tape in and record shows like Murder, She Wrote, Northern Exposure, Cheers, The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr.-”

“What?”

“Some scifi western thing, or something.  I never really got into it.”

“So you spent the day watching old TV shows?”

“Pretty much.”

“And they were better than the ones on now?”

“Oh yeah.  Even though the images were fuzzy and the sound wasn’t always clear, but even the commercials were so much better.  There were no commercials for Viagra or for shows like, Who Wants to Marry a … Pig Farmer, or whatever they have now.  It was a glimpse of a pre-Reality show world.  A golden age of TV.”

With a raised eyebrow, April asked, “A golden age?”

Ron shrugged.  “Maybe I’m just nostalgic.  I guess I’m getting old.”

“No you’re not,” April shot back.

Ron smiled.  “I’m not?”

“I’m only seven months younger than you, so no, you’re not getting old.”

“Ah.  I see.”

April kissed him and walked into the kitchen.  Opening a cupboard, she asked, “What do you want to do about dinner?”

Ron began to shrug, but then a devilish smile crossed his face.  “I heard The Palmetto has a decent Early Bird menu.”

April turned to look at him and slowly closed the cupboard.  She walked up to him and poked him in the chest.  “Keep it up buster, and you’ll be staring in a murder, she wrote.”

He kissed her forehead, then said, “Cheers.”

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