Łukasz Drobnik

@drobnik.co

Fiction writer, author of VOSTOK, RIVERINE & NOCTURINE. Words in Split Lip Magazine, HAD, Fractured Lit, Foglifter, etc. He/him. Website: drobnik.co

So writing this novel burnt me out a bit, and for months I didn’t have it in me to read or write or post. This means I’ve got a lot of catching up to do on @anniejowrites.bsky.social’s beautiful writing. Let’s start with this tiny marvel from @bendinggenres.bsky.social.

Anna Vangala Jones@anniejowrites.bsky.social · 2mo ago

I have a new microfiction about grief & beauty & destruction in Bending Genres. read my story “Dishes” + all of Issue 51 🍽️ 🎨 grateful to @rgvaughan.bsky.social & the @bendinggenres.bsky.social editors ♡ bendinggenres.com/dishes/

Journal: Bending Genres, Issue 51
Title of story: Dishes
Author: Anna Vangala Jones

Text of story: “Louisa, my coworker, keeps telling me about this studio where you decorate dishes before standing on the rooftop to fling them at the ground—she says it’s therapeutic. Better than actual therapy. You wouldn’t be the only widow there, she assures me, lots of widows. She explains it’s nice because you get the soothing, artistic activity first and then there is the destruction. The ability to shatter into oblivion the beauty you’ve just created. Before anyone else can take it from you or ruin it. It sounds strange but I’d try almost anything at this point. I insist on going alone. The ceramic pieces are premade. We spend the first visit painting them and then they get glazed and fired in the kiln. We return a week later to admire our finished products before heading up several flights of stairs to the roof and throwing them as hard as we can at the vacant lot below. There’s not a lot of socializing that happens. I paint my teacup periwinkle and white while I lie to the old woman next to me about my husband by pretending he’s at home and still alive. “Does he question why you come here?” she asks. “My kids don’t get it. It’s good for my anger but they don’t understand what I’m so angry about. Neither do I,” she admits, “but I know I am and this helps.” I don’t tell him I’m here, I say. I like being able to tell her some truth. The day the dishes are ready, we don’t speak a word to each other or anyone else. Just indulge in the violence together and alone. I don’t notice anyone else’s debris but my own. I only see tiny periwinkle and white fragments sparkling on the pavement like millions of stars in distant galaxies.”

Obviously going to be spamming ABIDE for the next week, sorry about that. I saw a tweet that someone didn't realise it was live and I still have about 1000 followers who I haven't convinced yet about how freakishly original and exciting this work is.

I’m shit at marketing, and you can tell because I published a book nearly a month ago, and you probably haven’t heard about it. Anyway, NOCTURINE is a surreal novella in breathless paragraphs. You might enjoy it if you’re into dark, voicey stuff.

A copy of Nocturine held against some petunias. The cover features a magenta pixely jellyfish in the style of 8-bit games as well as the title and author’s name (Łukasz Drobnik) in a similarly pixely font against a black background.An open copy of Nocturine held against some petunias.

I have a big request. My baby cousin, 15, is in hospital, non-responsive. I'd like to see her one last time & am trying to fly across the ocean *tomorrow* to make this happen. It would cost about £2500 or £3300 dollars. If you're able to contribute, this is my paypal: paypal.me/riversandfam

Pay Rivers Solomon using PayPal.Me

Go to paypal.me/riversandfam and type in the amount. Since it’s PayPal, it's easy and secure. Don’t have a PayPal account? No worries.

paypal.me

No, Copilot, I don’t want your help with this paragraph. And no, I don’t need your assistance pasting this one word. And it would be great if Word didn’t work so slow like we’re back in 1999, thank you.