writing
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Recently, my publisher reached out and alerted me to a blog contest they thought I should enter. The theme was anything Christmas-related, be it holiday traditions or an original story. I chose to write an original story. It’s short, somewhat poignant, but ends well. I hope you enjoy it. The Roadside Oasis by Michael DeStefano
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For years, I wanted to write a short story in the vein of Robert Lawson’s Rabbit Hill, but with a Fielding theme and a Dickensian vibe. It was one of those projects I thought would remain a wish—an ambition to stimulate my mind on long car trips and sleepless nights, but would never come to
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Often, inspiration can hide in plain sight. Our minds take in thousands of images per day, and our ears pick up clusters of words, whole thoughts, and fragments. Amid such a mishmash, it’s difficult to determine our true influences: that which stands at the forefront of our minds or what lurks in the depths of
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If you haven’t already seen the video, you’ve at least heard about AI’s latest shtick: Keeping grandmothers alive. Give it a watch. It will only take a minute. My thoughts are below. We’ve finally made it! A generation ago, thanks to medical science, what used to require major surgery is solved with an in-and-out procedure.
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Many years ago, alone, I drove from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, to meet my wife, who had flown there days earlier. In Delaware, I merged from I95 onto 495 (Veteran’s Highway), a spur that subtracts several miles from the trip. It was a Saturday night at twilight. I had churned up many
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A fool’s paradise There is a proverbial bridge that leads to a proverbial place. The place is commonly referred to as “Too Far,” accessible by the abovementioned bridge we just mindlessly crossed. And presently, we appear to be standing on Too Far’s threshold, preparing to get drawn into its vortex. Once in its grip, the
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This past Friday morning, while spending time with a client, something occurred to me. It moved me enough to say, “Jim, if it were thirty-five years ago, before diving into business, we would have discussed last night’s Seinfeld episode.” The exchange that Jim and I would’ve had all those years ago would not have been
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It was upon a summer’s breeze that the echoes from a forest beckoned a young lass. Often, from the confines of her mother’s garden or with her elbows resting on her bedroom windowsill, she had wondered about the wood just yonder did our golden-haired youth but never had she ventured into its denseness. Today,
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What to sell, what to sell… mmm, let me think. Should I sell what people want or what they need? Moreover, do we, whether a Boomer or Zoomer, understand the distinction? I want a season pass to Citizens Bank Park. I need someone to heartlessly rid my home of all its junk so my wife
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The following is the first chapter of a novel I hope to complete before 2027. Because it can stand alone, I thought why not post it. A BALLAD FOR WINTER AND SPRING As a passenger train chugs its way northbound from Memphis into the night, a girl, perhaps too young to travel alone, sits
Michael's Corner 