In my last blog entry, I noted that I had been in contact with a group of English language writers here in Bogotá and that they had invited me as a guest writer to their next meeting. Well, since that last post, they wrote back to task me with a second exercise to do. I gather that they have been working on something they call “flash fiction,” short stories with a beginning a middle and an end. Rather than a story of exactly 100 words, this time they want a story of 250 words (again, not counting the title), about a song. 

So I wrote the attached story today. A Sleepwalker Awakens

I have since modified it slightly and it now runs a bit longer. 

Those of you who follow my blog will know how much the music of John Bottomley has inspired me. This story is an account of that night in Victoria just after returning from my posting to Nairobi where my brother, Josée and I actually met him. It was a magical evening, tinged now in my memory with sadness. I wish this exercise had given me a bit more space to explain that sadness, but one must live within the constraints of the exercise.

I also wish, above all, to avoid giving the impression that John’s playing was awful when covering other artists. I am sure we caught him on a bad night, is all. The contrast of the John we first heard to the John who closed out the night, however, was remarkable.

I later learned after his death from John’s common law wife Angela Muellers that John returned home that night in a great mood, having had an uberfan call out for his, and only his, songs. I remember, at one point he looked up and asked, “Who are you?” We had a great chat with John afterwards and he signed our copy of Songpoet.

I very much encourage people to expose themselves to John’s music. He left us a remarkable legacy. Rest in peace.

http://www.johnbottomley.net

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I have been in contact over the past few weeks with a group of English language writers here in Bogotá. They invited me as a guest writer to their next meeting, but I had an exercise to do. I gather that they have been working on something they call “flash fiction,” short stories with a beginning a middle and an end, of exactly 100 words (not counting the title). The exercise for next week is to include one of the city’s icons, ideally in the protagonist role.

So I wrote the attached story tonight. The Black Prince

It’s the first non-work related writing I have done that’s not in my fantasy world for some time. Those of you who follow my blog on a regular basis (ie. all ONE of me), will instantly know where this comes from (see the picture below and the blog posting of April 17).

I attach it here for your perusal. I would dearly welcome any and all comments.

Pinot, I love you. I miss you so much.

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ian at ianmckinley dot com (written this way to guard against spam … you know how to interpret it) © Ian McKinley 2016