Carlos Orozco

 

FlashdogsHere, Carlos Orozco tells us a bit about himself and his excellent Micro Bookends 1.02-winning story. Carlos runs with the Flashdogs. Check out their blog, or follow Carlos on Twitter.

I reside in the Pacific Northwest. I’m a HUGE procrastinator; looming deadlines are my inspiration. I’m currently binging on Flash Fiction and do not plan to stop anytime soon. Proud #Flashdog. WOOF.

So, great story. How did you get there from the prompt and bookends? For some odd reason facelift made me think of George Washington’s face lifting into the air. Then I thought, who’d want to win a broken typewriter? That question led to the characters’ conception.

100 words ain’t many. How do you fit a story into so few words? By having the reader (hopefully) fill in the blanks. What writers choose to leave out is just as important as what they include.

Why do you like flash fiction? I can read/write it quickly and then get to the best part: thinking about the story, letting it linger in my mind until I’m ready to move on.

Been writing long? Writing on a consistent basis: No. I started back in May. Before that I had written a thing or two here and there.

You write anything else? Not really. I do some poetry here and there, but that’s about it.

Any advice for other flash writers? Read a bunch of flash fiction. Write a bunch of flash fiction. The more you do it, the better you’ll get.

Any interesting writerly projects in the pipeline? The Flashdogs Anthology.

I just finished reading a book. Can you recommend another? I just finished a short story collection that I really enjoyed Tenth of December by George Saunders.

1.02 FACE [micro] LIFT

Lucky

by Carlos Orozco

“Face.”

“You mean heads.”

“Yes, heads,” he says. We both stare at the silver eagle perched atop my thumb. I look at him just before I flip the coin. He is small for an eight-year-old, but his eyes show the anguish of an old man. He’s had a hard life.

I flip the coin sending it up with a metallic ring and hear it perch on my palm.

“It’s heads,” I say and pocket the silver eagle. His eyes go wide and he giggles. This is probably the luckiest thing to ever happen to him. He hugs the old, worthless typewriter. The corners of my mouth lift.

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