It was a gorgeous day in Brooklyn, a preview of the best of spring. A couple of my regulars came through for me. A middle aged Russian couple bought Royal Occasions, a beautiful coffee table book, and a lady selected Iris Johanson's Final Target. Thanks, folks.
Although I love movies, I won't be watching the Oscars. I'm not big on award shows. I don't see the point in sitting through three+ hours of commercials and hideous production numbers when the results will be in tomorrow's paper. I know, it's Americana, although it sometimes feels like anti-Americana, given Hollywood's liberal bias. Besides, the best measure of a work's value is time. Or maybe that's just the rationale of a failed writer. Still, I'd rather watch the second half of the noir double bill I got from Netflix. Night Editor (1946), of which I'd never heard, was very entertaining. I hope One Girl's Confession is too.
Here's a link to the latest of my stories to be published. It is a simple slice of life, ten-minute-read:
http://www.fictionaut.com/stories/vic-fortezza/meant-to-be
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