Sunday, August 24, 2008

On the Radio: 3 minute stories wanted


Meredith Resnick, on her blog Full Read, reports that National Public Radio will be offering a new feature in the coming months: Dime Stories.

The show will be hosted by novelist Amy Wallen and memoirist James Spring and seems to have strong roots on the west coast.

From their website:
The author Bernard Cooper proposes that shorter stories require "… an alertness to detail, a quickening of the senses, a focusing of the literary lens, so to speak, until one has magnified some small aspect of what it means to be human."

DimeStories are compelling narratives - some fictional, some factual - that measure just three-minutes long. They may be funny, tragic, or strange. We are open to being surprised, so rather than detail what they are, here is a list of what DimeStories are not: essays, commentary, poems, news articles, rants, or sermons. DimeStories do not exceed 600 words.

If you ever find yourself in the fine pueblo of San Diego, stop by The Grove bookstore on the first Friday of any month and be part of our DimeStories OPEN-MIC, where writers gather and drop their names in the bucket to read 3-minute pieces they've been working on. Also check out our showcase DimeStories LIVE reading series, with dates in San Diego, Los Angeles (at Skylight Books), New York, and more.


So, consider submitting your own three-minute story to the show. How many pages add up to 3 minutes? It depends on your own mix of dialogue and exposition - I say somewhere between 4-6 pages. What do you think?

Check it out here: Dime Stories.

Fun, fun, fun.

1 comment:

aoc gold said...

The Bight

At low tide like this how sheer the water is.

White, crumbling ribs of marl protrude and glare

and the boats are dry, the pilings dry as matches,

Absorbing, rather than being absorbed,

the water in the bight doesn't wet anything,

the color of the gas flame turned as low as possible.

One can smell it turning to gas; if one were Baudelaire

one could probably hear it turning to marimba music.

The little ocher dredge at work off the end of the dock

already plays the dry perfectly off-beat claves.

The birds are outsize. Pelicans crash

into this peculiar gas unnecessarily hard.

it seems to me, like pickaxes,

rarely coming up with anything to show for it,

and going off with humorous elbowings,

Black-and-white man-of-war birds soar

on impalpable drafts

and open their tails like scissors on the curves

or tense them like wishbones, till they tremble.

The frowsy sponge boats keep coming in

with the obliging air of retrievers,

bristling with jackstraw gaffs and hooks

and decorated with bobbles of sponges.

There is a fence of chicken wire along the dock

where, glinting like little plowshares,

the blue-gray shark tails are hung up to dry

for the Chinese-restaurant trade.

Some of the little white boats are still piled up

against each other, or lie on their sides, stove in,

and not yet salvaged, if they ever will be, from the last bad storm.

like torn-open, unanswered letters.

the bight is littered with old correspondences.

Click. Click. Goes the dredge,

and brings up a dripping jawful of marl.

All the untidy activity continues,

awful but cheerful.

----- by cheap runescape gold

 
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