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Uncharted Territory by Jacob Malewitz, on F Scott Fitzgerald Age of Manhattan

 Uncharted Territory: Or, A Mission Statement by Jacob Malewitza F Scott Fitzgerald In Manhattan, 100 Civilization Empires, 2 2 2  Columbia, 2 shirt Uncharted territory is like a lion being let out of a zoo: he may be unsure of where to go, but he sure knows he is hungry and these two legged things look tasty. We writers are thrown to the lions sometimes. Listen, draftsman, because this map shows you uncharted territory, one more important than finding water in a barren desert. It can be almost a comedy to see people ask, “Can I be a writer?” online. I hate being rude to those, because I may have asked the same questions. Yet, I see the lions forming up around them. “Writing is hard. You can’t spell. Think twice.” I once didn’t know my TOs from my TOOs. I still have trouble with commas. I try to sway them from the lions, without stepping on too many toes. I try, in so many words, to tell them that writing is like going on a voyage. Then, I get down to business and say exactly ...
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Archangels of the Sword, a chapter of a novel, on F Scott Fitzgerald Age of Manhattan

 Archangels of the Sword, on F Scott Fitzgerald Age of Manhattan by Jacob Malewitz A Novel Mercenary Sword, 5 notebooks fifty game Columbia, 2 vest Champions Wordpress, 500 We went all the way to the sea. Went to the sea through Norman lands. Castles seemed to dot every few miles of land, crossing with farms and small hamlets. I was well traveled for a man of Europa, but it thing seemed different in the lands: It was as though the people were broken toiling around doing the same things.  The conversations were minimal; Rochelle seemed busy humming out words to the flowers, while Francis kept toying with his arrows. I busied myself with thoughts on my father, and waited to see if Rochelle would bring up the Green Knyght again. How could he know? I didn’t have the gall to ask. Archangels of the sword, that’s what he had said, and it reminded me of the painting behind the Knyght.  I had always thought my visions were mine. I was learning that I wasn’t the only one touched by...
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A Really Good Richard Yates Story, a short story on F Scott Fitzgerald Age of Manhattan

 A Really Good Richard Yates Story by Jacob Malewitz RimKnights, a World of Rim, 2 short story Blue Jacket, 100 100 100 Civilization Empires Wordpress, 2 mill “Where can I find him?” “You wish to read the— “No.” “You do not wish to read Richard— “I would like to meet him.” He began laughing; a fact that angered me more than my mother throwing me out of the house after I almost set the living room on fire with a couple cigarettes lit at the same time. I was down to fifteen a day before that, but let me tell you how I met Richard Yates. “Richard Yates is dead.” “The novelist?” “Yes. A good writer but dead.” “So your saying I can meet him.” “Perhaps a dead Richard Yates would meet you.” My imagination was on fire. I could meet the one writer whose books and short stories I had never read.  This is going to be a really good Richard Yates story. A man who had much in common with me, except for the fact all I knew of the man was a brochure I had received from Virginia Woolf, whom I ...
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Gideons Sphere, On F Scott Fitzgerald Age of Manhattan

  Gideon’ Sphere By Jacob Malewitz 2nd draft 5/4/07 A new blog, Cities of New York Columbia, 200 Blue Vest, 2 short stories “Gideon,” he looked perplexed, “that’s my name.” “Gideon,” he looked confident, being a shadow this could be called odd,“that’s my name, too.”  “You don’t look like you belong here.” “I don’t belong anywhere.”  “Are you dead?” “Time is fleeting.” “That doesn’t answer my question.” “Yes, it does.” Gideon was the only person in the room with a shadow, an archaic thing, confusing for those unfamiliar with the process involved in a man’s own shadow speaking. Gideon’s shadow had evolved into something less benign.  The place was full of people, just standing in a circle, there eyes all white, no hints of any other color.  They had a blackness of the soul that would make one sick if they looked close enough But no shadows beamed to the sides of them, no clues as to whether they had a soul. Is the shadow a gateway into the mind? Or just a web of l...
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The Short Story and the Essay

 The Short Story and the Essay     By Jacob Malewitz Escaflowne Heir to Swords, 100 Blue Vest, 500 2 Black Jacket, 200  Where does the short story end and begin? You must call building. You are always building with short stories. You are always selling with short stories. You must always call the balance with non-fiction, especially creative non-fiction. If you call creative non-fiction, you call the essay. If you call the essay, you call the book. If you call the book, you call profit. Profit is fleeting. Hope is not. How much do you want to make off your short story? What can you get from writing this short story? You get broken essay hope; you get some fear; you get some demons calling you out to write endlessly. You can experience emotion far better with writing than with television. All things should respect the short story art. The short story art is divine. If you call the short story too much, you call emotions to much. You live off the emotions. It brin...
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