I didn’t know him very long. I only just met him, in fact. But in a few short months he got inside my head, that Finnegan Flawnt. His stories, his characters, the color of his brush on the page, each word shaping shadows and light and just the right amount of brightness. He was at times weird and strange and funny and sad and always very human and warm.
And now, on June 16, he’s stepping off the stage, he’s Bloomsdaying it right out of here. Is Bloomsday an exit strategy? It is now… Off to write a novel, our Finnegan. Leaving us in his wake.
Farewell Finnegan Flawnt, a fictitious writer who captured my imagination and became my friend. Prost!
As a tribute to Flawnt, Metazen magazine created a space on its blog for writers to honor him. Writers chose stories they especially liked and commented on them. Mine’s below, and you can read the beautiful words of Frank Hinton, Drew Parker, Sheldon Lee Compton, Heather Vaulkhard, Cyn Kuhn, Katrina Gray, Susan Gibb, Sam Rasnake, Martha Williams, and Hzar Worth at the Metazen Blog.
One of Flawnt’s stories I love, and why I love it:
– From Flash by Flawnt
Flawnt, how can I tell you why I will miss your stories? Take this one. It is the simplest thing in the world, an old man with his grandson at a garden. Nothing happens: no action, no dialogue. Yet a whole world exists here, between man and boy and circling bird. There is loneliness and connection. Love and sorrow. Life and death. Holiness and space. A flash of moment and eternity. These are essential things that I find at the heart of your stories, Flawnt. Essential things at the heart. Essential things. And the grey here too: it’s one of the reasons I love this so. The scene is clear enough, but it’s no neat black-and-white portrait. And yet, I feel comfortable in the grey here. I am huddling under the man’s heron wings with the boy, and I’d like to stay just a little while longer.