Married domestic by day, dashing secret agent by night, Pamela has done and seen it all. But the years have taken their toll and it is finally time to hand the work over to young blood. In this exclusive exit interview, Pamela describes her closest calls, her greatest exploits, and the trip to Paris that nearly did her in.
…Turn those lemons into a short story complete with a raucous reading by old friends! I wrote this piece for a competition (that I lost), but went on to place it with FIVE:2:ONE and their esteemed audio-centric site. How funny to watch a truly terrible professional experience emerge as belly-chuckles art. Lemons! Lemons, everywhere I say!
This world of lotharios and lovers and cheaters and other people and bigger mattresses and soup, well, that is this world. I sat alone in the same room the following day, on the same floor with the same white walls, christening the place to a holy pureness. Via This Great Society, read more
“A man I know who lived for two years on about seven cents a day was and still is a bonny figure indeed, tall, lean and wholesome. . . physically at least. Perhaps an empty stomach is not a good literary adviser.” (MFK Fisher, How to Cook a Wolf, 1942)
The woman is a very thin woman.
She wears a severe black coat.
The woman hastily enters the train.
She moves between the people like an eel, slithering toward a seat.
The woman glowers into a book.
The nearby paddy fields deepened into an evening glow and I became newly aware I was walking in Bali with an old friend by a beautiful beach. I probably couldn’t be happier. So this is it, I thought. My happiness peak. This is as good as it gets. And I have no end in sight, no plans to leave.