Author, novelist, screenwriter, poet, fiction (and other keywords) David Barlow grew up in the cushy suburban digs of Ridgewood, New Jersey. Graduating up there in his class at Emerson College with a BFA in creative writing he pilgrimaged to Los Angeles for the script business. Skittering through several big Hollywood near-misses David plied a trade in writing copy, PR, and professional collateral. All while honing that edge for prose, verse, etc. Some time now those efforts have been enjoyed from the wilds of New Hampshire.
Characters rendered with depth and nuance, plots that grab hold and don't let go, language rich with color and concision, ideas worthy of further thought, topics that resonate with our times; what more can a short story collection deliver? Variety. Maybe some practical inspiration for daily life. And fun.
Characters rendered with depth and nuance, plots that grab hold and don't let go, language rich with color and concision, ideas worthy of further thought, topics that resonate with our times; what more can a short story collection deliver? Variety. Maybe some practical inspiration for daily life. And fun.
Plots like a screenplay, characters like a novel, prose that goes poetic. Each of these twenty pieces brings you incisively off the map. With sorbets of flash fiction interspersed to cleanse the palate. The short story rules are pretty simple: The faster you bring it the more off you can go, til they’re just flying over all kinds of stuff.
Told from the point of view of a suddenly homeless mental patient wandering the streets as his meds wear off, Stone Flag takes us on a journey into one man's past. From complete amnesia he starts a course that just keeps raising the stakes for 400 pages. Where it will leave him answers so many questions the book continues well beyond its ending.
What happens when getting away with it isn’t enough? Living with yourself can become one too many. Decalog pulls you along at a tenacious pace like the untiring conscience of a good man who done wrong.
Ghosts have no interest in scaring us. None. Of course that doesn’t mean they don’t exist, or don’t have an agenda. What it can mean is their motives are open for interpretation. And there do all the problems start.
What if you could lead a fantasy life, I’m talking big as it gets. Nothing could top being a fifth Beatle. At least til you woke up. Just because you don’t remember doesn’t mean it has no effect. Especially when that dream continues every night for years on end.
Poetry can hold up a mirror, revealing not the poet so much as ourselves. A view far too specific to be found in the verse. Words are launching points for your reflection. The lines are a child’s fist holding the bobbing red balloon that is your lofted view. Conjure beyond me each poem asks; the rest is for you.