Erin Slade

The Méxican Navy marching band practices several mornings a week near a local elementary school. I fall into step with the drums on my way back from the swimming hole. They are slowly slowly improving, coalescing into uniform pitches and tones. I admire their tenacity.

I, too, have been practicing something difficult, though I used to do it well. I recently found a place to skate, and slowly slowly muscle memories awaken. Today featured seven continuous circuits of the nicely level and mostly clean racquetball court. Times two, at that! Yes, I swaggered home, thanks for asking. The wave-board only has two oscillating wheels, so it’s all about balance. Rock-hopping at the swim spot helps with that, too.

Sea Change, my collection of short and flash fiction, is coming apace. When not working on the book, I read crappy novels in an effort to distract the militant editor in my brain. As if the argument is, “Look! She’s published! Of course I can do this!” It seems like the closer I get to ‘done’, the more I need to read. Must be almost there, because I was up until 11:30 last night.

Here’s a tale from the tome to whet your appetite, Erin Slade:

Erin Slade, PI, spoons Nutella into her coffee. Her partner, A. Mae Zhing, sighs. “You’re going to hell—dental hell. You’ve already lost one tooth, are you trying to kill the rest?” Erin flashes a gap-toothed grin and adds a shot of whiskey to the brew. “Perfect,” she declares after sipping. She offers the mug to Mae, who shakes her head. “No, thanks. I don’t have time for a sugar coma.” She swishes out, gold tango skirt flaring as she exits Erin’s office.

Just published, “Shoulds are for Saints: the true life adventures of Suzy Le Speed

—along with “Dance First …ask questions later: poems and paintings