Writing Samples

Excerpt, “Mountain Pass”, Short Story:

And when you take the curves with reckless abandon, there’s a sensation that consumes you, eats you up and spits you back out feeling more alive than before. It’s that tension in your hands, gripping so hard on the wheel the knuckles become ghosts of their former selves. Your arms are rigid planks, so taut that only a tightrope walker could cross. Your feet are doing some sort of senseless dance, tapping pedals seemingly at random. And on your face, you wear a look somewhere between terrified and bemused, not quite cracking a smile yet neither a grimace. All they would really need to see is your eyes, though, feverish cavities flickering to and fro with all the intensity and unpredictability of a raging inferno. 

Such a perfect place to test the fluidity of electric transmission from nerve ending to nerve ending, you think, scarcely allowing time to take in the sights around you. Sheer rock walls rise on either side, encapsulating your little vessel, both making you, as one man, feel diminutive, and as men of the earth, feel like gods for carving mountains out of your path. Bright yellow signs occasionally warn you against doing exactly what you are doing, increasing the sense of danger, increasing the flow of blood and adrenaline to the brain. They flicker briefly in the brights of your headlamps and then fall away quickly back into the silence of the night. A crescent moon peeks her head over the top of a distant rock group, as if too afraid to fully emerge in the blight of your furious run. You feel like an invader, charging her faraway castle on the hilltop, racing ever closer to the distant satellite.

But what they don’t see, what they can’t tell, is that you are not racing towards a destination on a wicked joy-ride, but racing away on a hell-bent furor. What you are racing away from is not a person or a place but rather a feeling. And, although the speedometer wavers at an unhealthy and perilous rate, so far you’ve put no distance between you and that feeling, sinking further and further through your gut. The worst part is it’s not a feeling you can put a finger on or give a name to. It’s not like the anxiety of debt or the heartbreak of some ex-lover, it’s not depression of growing age or anger at career movement. Maybe it’s all of these things and maybe it’s none, but the closest you can come to explaining it would be feeling such as a fly caught in an invisible web. Neither is this feeling new; rather it’s been living with you since you developed consciousness. Most days it’s manageable, cursory and keeps to the back of your mind. But sometimes, like late on certain nights, it becomes unbearable and you must race away as fast as possible, place your life in immediate danger to quell that unbearable sense, that sword hanging always over your head; Damocles. 

It doesn’t happen often, just often enough, that you’ve come to know this particular winding mountain path better than the path to the pisser in the black of night; for there, at times, a miscreant toe finds itself stubbed. Here, the curves are home.

………

Excerpt of a 70 page novella I am seeking for publication, titled “When”:

The old man sits listlessly on the park bench, rheumy eyes fixated on a distant spectacle or apparition. One would say it is balmy, not quite hot, but certainly warm with an occasional soothing breeze—like invisible caressing hands. He is dressed in an old brown suit, his favorite if you care to know, and if he were younger you might think he were prepping for a job interview. Maybe a fancy date. But on this Sunday afternoon—with a clear blue sky occasionally blemished by a few straggling white, puffy clouds—it looks more like he was waiting to meet his maker.

The park is a spectacle, but one could not be sure the old man is looking at any of it. Over there, a trio of young children make mad maneuvers in a game of chase. Nearby, the proud owners of the tots are deeply engaged in conversation with another couple, childless so far. Only occasionally does mama hen throw an apprehensive glance to the playing children. Here a jogger in the latest and most popular brand of jogging gear, fiber technology meant to insulate yet be breathable, moves to her own beat. Across the way another jogger in last year’s attire, moves asynchronously. Both fastidiously tuned into whatever might be pouring from the small white earbuds they wore, immersed in the world behind their designer sunglasses. And there, a young couple, maybe college-aged, strolling aimlessly through the park, drunk on their puppy love for one another. They carefully select a bench and sit down, the boy’s arm seamlessly slipping around her shoulder. They see everything and take in nothing. The old man observes everything as separate planets, orbiting the axis of the park.

What the old man might be thinking, we can’t be certain of. He doesn’t seem to be elated, apprehensive, or downtrodden. In fact, his face is as blank as fresh canvas. Perhaps content is the best and nearest word we can use. No one seems to particularly take note of him, except us, the invisible spectators. And this is the way it has been for years. For exactly three years, nine months, two weeks and five days he has come to this park to sit on this very bench. Unless the bench is already taken, or it is raining.

Every day he usually has the same dull look. Perhaps he is waiting for someone. Perhaps he is waiting for death, cloak and scythe to come walking slowly from the other side of the grassy hill and take him away. Would he welcome it? Is it any longer the park or simply habit that brings him back every day? No one talks to him, and most people don’t notice him. Closing in on four years he has come, and every day bleeds into the next, a vibrant mural of faces and seasons.

But today is different.

……

Writing sample for an online content freelancers website:

The Four Phases of Comprehensive Emergency Management

Whether living in the hurricane-prone states of America’s Southeast shores, the earthquake-primed West Coast, or the potentially snow-packed states in the middle of the country, a government should have a Comprehensive Emergency Management Plan, not if, but rather when disaster strikes. The following will illustrate the four phases a municipality should keep in mind when discussing and planning.

Mitigation is the first step necessary when devising a plan of action. This is an extremely important first step, as it could be the difference between total calamity and more-or-less inconvenience. Mitigation is identifying risks before they happen, which has become entirely a profession in and of itself. Some disastrous consequences can be minimized or even removed entirely if those risks are first assessed and implemented before an emergency situation. These might include buying a back-up generator system for a hospital to maintain electricity, building walls and levees near a coastal town, or as simple as food rations stored in a dry room.

The next logical step, then, is Preparedness. After all the risks have been assessed, now is the time to employ steps to minimize the effects of a disaster if it isn’t possible to eliminate them entirely. Preparedness comes in many shapes and sizes, but an incredibly useful piece of preparedness is working with employees, friends, or family members to ensure there is a plan in place for a variety of scenarios. This might include safety meetings to discuss expectations, to drills effective to training individuals what to do and where to go when the unexpected happens.

Disasters, however, are inevitable; sometimes the outcomes can be unforeseen or greater than anticipated. That is why Response, the third phase, is equally crucial. If the first two phases have been approached with insight, it will greatly assist with the Response phase. During this phase, communication is essential–communication with first responders, disaster coordinators, hospitals, etc. Ideally, a communication infrastructure would be in place with several backups. If towers have been knocked out, alternate ways of broadcasting radio signals can let professionals know areas most affected and respond in a way to provide the most benefit, quickly.

Naturally, the fourth phase is Recovery. Even when the first three phases have gone exactly according to plan, a municipality or group is looking at the potential for structural damage, emotional damage, or other unexpected costs. Preparing financially for disasters is one important step in this phase, whether it be savings “for a rainy day”, a comprehensive insurance plan, or some combination therein. Employees on a governmental payroll, such as construction or debris removal, are also a key piece to this puzzle. As with any smart and efficient organization, these phases should be looked at not as a list, but rather cyclically; thus, as the Recovery phase is undertaken, it would be wise to assess what did or did not work to further reemploy into a future Mitigation phase.

If these phases are thought through effectively, it could make all the difference down the road, especially when considering spending and budgets. Preparedness is the enemy of chaos, and especially chaotic, haphazard spending. Disasters are inevitable, but by significantly decreasing the fallout and trauma, one can more effectively thrive in the world.