Jim the Writer

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What Else You Can’t Do

He had no music in him, never had. In fourth grade, before the Christmas pageant, a desperate teacher ordered him to lip-sync "The Little Drummer Boy." Decades later, a grown man, it still made him sad. "You can't dance," a woman told him over the booming bass at a grad school party. "It makes me wonder what else you can't do." A nasty sly smile. A mean …

Notice to Disconnect

When Carly read the notice to disconnect, she couldn't decide whether to go shake Jack awake or strangle him in his sleep. So she just stood there. The front room of the double-wide …

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 …

Details

The professor wore the required shirt and shoes. He expected service. Yes, his pants were missing. So were his underpants, his socks and his wife of 38 years, if anyone cared for details. The girl behind the counter gaped at him, her mouth a perfect O. The professor set down a bottle. "It's all in …

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The rising cost of love

Two years ago, he'd given her a St. Bernard with a cask of peppermint schnapps clipped to its collar. She’d given him a white pickup the size of house. Last year, he’d bought vehicles for both of them. She grabbed the giant black truck, leaving him the little red SUV. This Christmas, he …

Gerald the Underhanded

Prince Gerald had an epiphany. Half-way unto the breach, he feigned a leg cramp. Thus, brave brother Rainer surged ahead and climbed the rubble-pile first, closely followed by a hundred men-at-arms. Rainer tumbled down as fast, an arrow through the eye. The whispers began immediately. Later, the …

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 …

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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Welcome to Jim’s

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