apocalypse radio
some flash fiction and a February recap
Looking backward; looking forward
Hello there! After a January that seemed to last approximately 87 years, February seemed to pass in a flash. A smattering of highlights included:
Reading most of The Wake by Paul Kingsnorth - a truly unique reading experience
Making my first short story submission in a while
Getting outdoors to walk and read in some unseasonably warm weather
Drooling over the Elden Ring DLC trailer that dropped on 2/21 (who else is hyped?! Hit me with your speculation and theories!)
Listening to The Decemberists on repeat
Cooking this honey ginger lime pork
I'm ready for a new month, though! March is already bringing some things I'm really excited about, and after the gray post-holiday slog, I'm ready for them. As of this posting, I've just returned from travel to Iceland, my first trip abroad since 2015. I'll share a bit more about that trip in my March recap, but I'm happy to say that the time away from paid work and my day-to-day routine was nourishing, and that I got to spend a lot of time in nature - snowy slopes, foggy coastal mountains, black sand beaches, and so. many. waterfalls.
I’ve returned to an abnormally early spring, where everything is starting to bud and bloom. The weather was unseasonably warm even before I left, and I have to say that it’s doing wonders for my mental health. There’s a reason I always feel more alive at this time of year.
In terms of writing updates, I'll be getting back to Project Alchemy this month. I can't wait to dive into revisions! Despite some questioning of my path with regards to writing this winter, I am really loving working on this project, and for now that is enough. I'm trying to take things one step at a time, and right now that step is getting re-acquainted with my book. I'll do that by re-reading it, summarizing it, and making some analytical decisions about what to focus on and develop in this next draft.
A while back I signed up for a free revision mini-course from Olivia Helps Writers, which suggests an approach that loosely follows these steps. It begins with a journaling exercise that has you reflect on what you love about your story, what you want to make sure makes it through your next round of revisions, and what your ideal reader will get out of reading your work.
I completed these reflections and found them really helpful for pinpointing and prioritizing elements of my story that I want to emphasize at this stage of the process. Getting to write about that was a gentle re-entry to the headspace of this project, and I'm really looking forward to getting into a re-read of my draft, which I’ll analyze and make a game plan for revising over the next few weeks.
Some flash fiction
Since I was on the road, I thought I'd continue my tradition of sharing a snippet of flash fiction in lieu of a longer update. I'm always surprised what comes out when I go into a flash fiction exercise with little idea of what I’m going to write. The outcome often rambles a bit; it’s often possibly more a vignette than a story, as with this piece. But no matter what happens, it somehow comes to life. So, without too much fuss or editing, here’s what came out when I completed a prompt to write a story of under 750 words comprised entirely of dialogue. For reasons that will become apparent, I'm calling it Apocalypse Radio.
Enjoy!
Apocalypse Radio
“What’s on the menu tonight, Sullivan?”
“Looks like baked beans, circa 2054.”
“A fine vintage.”
“It’s one of the last ones. Lucky for me, whatever they preserved it with should last until…well, it should last. What about you?”
“Beef ravioli.”
“Meat! Whoever stocked your bunker knew what they were doing.”
“I’m not sure I could call this meat, in good conscience.”
“It’s a delicacy, and you know it.”
“I’m breaking out the good dishes.”
“As you should. Candles too?”
“Of course. The generator is on its last legs anyway.”
“How many candlelight dinners do you think we’ve had this way?”
“Must be hundreds by now.”
“Cisco?”
“Hmm?”
“Say all of this was over. Say we could go out for a real dinner, in the same place. No setting up a ham radio on the table next to a spoon and a can opener.”
“Like a date?”
“You know what I mean. Like if restaurants were still a thing, and the world hadn’t gone to shit.”
“Say it hadn’t. What are we having?”
“Have you ever heard of Noma?”
“It’s a food?”
“No, a restaurant. In Copenhagen. One of the best in the world, fifty years ago or so.”
“They serve a killer steak or something?”
“Mostly vegetables, actually. Everything locally grown. Pickled. Fermented. Quail’s eggs served on a little bed of hay. I saw it on a TV show once, and I really wanted to go. Everything just looked so pristinely prepared. Like art. I think I’d like to experience that once, even if it cost me an arm and a leg.”
“Well, I hate to disappoint you, but there’s absolutely no way I’m surviving the apocalypse and then choosing to go out for salad.”
“No? Where are we going, then?”
“Lenny’s Burger Bar. Downtown Philly. Forget the cheesesteak; you want the cheeseburger. Filthiest grilled onions you’ve ever tasted; patty is just shy of bloody. Tillamook cheddar, the works. Ahhhh, Sullivan. What have you done? I was looking forward to this ravioli, but now that I remember what food used to taste like…”
“Is it sad that neither of us picked anything our families cooked?”
“I think this ravioli is better than most of what we used to get at home.”
“Same here. I wonder if any of them are left, now. Our families.”
“Do you ever pick up signals from any of the other Outposts?”
“I can hear Boise sometimes. Sometimes Reno. Just intermittent chat.”
“No candlelight dinners with anyone from Boise?”
“None of your business.”
“Yeah, me neither. I used to hear New York sometimes, but they’ve gone dark. Nothing the last couple months.”
“Sometimes I think about going above. Everything could be ok by now, you know?”
“That’s not a good idea. They said to wait four years, to be safe.”
“No sense starving ourselves in a bunker if it’s all clear up there. And if it isn’t? We’re just prolonging the inevitable.”
“Four years is four years, Sullivan. I don’t want to risk throwing away time I could have had if the air’s still toxic.”
“I’m not sure I can take another two years of this.”
“I’m hurt, Sullivan. I thought we had a good thing going here.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah. I suppose I do. Never pictured this was how I was going to spend my thirties.”
“For real.”
“Hey, when we get out maybe we should head to that restaurant of yours. They’d probably be the first to figure out the food situation if they were already serving mushrooms and pickled birds’ nests and shit.”
“Rude. But possibly accurate.”
“I think I’m gonna go. Have to get my pushups in before the hour of staring at the ceiling before bed.”
“Alright then.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow. No above-ground excursions, at least tonight. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Goodnight, Sullivan.”
“Goodnight, Cisco.”
I loved this, Greta! I am so jealous of Iceland (I want to hear ALL about it) and I am rooting for you in your next steps for Project Alchemy. Also, I absolutely loved your flash fiction piece!
Loved this. You hit all the right notes with these characters. Makes me feel sorry for them and love them and hopeful that it all works out in the end. It probably won't, and that makes the moments you captured feel precious and bittersweet. Thanks!