A week-long writing workshop got me thinking not only about reading and writing, but also about the tools I have used to write over the years. Then I went out and bought some of them.

The following was a losing entry in the 6th Annual Geist Literal Literary Postcard Story Contest.

“What’s with the bunny suit,” my dad asked, and hearing that got my sister and me pretty excited. Easter had come and gone, but how could a bunny suit be anything but amazing?

Not knowing why you’re doing what you’re doing, while you’re doing it: isn’t that madness? Holding on to a slime-covered rock at the bottom of a lake, pondering the balance between the weight of sodden corduroy and cotton and the buoyancy of your lungs and the water sliding under your belly to wedge you up, under your chest, telling you this is silly, that it’s a little thing, they’re your friends, let go.