![\"Narratives](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.everywritersresource.com\/selfpublished\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/12\/NIPF_cover_small.jpg?resize=410%2C641\" "\\"Narratives")
Author<\/h2>\nWilliam Olmstead<\/p>\n
William Olmstead is a writer who ponders the greater philosophical questions like if a phone rings in the forest, is anyone really calling? His stories are a bemusing look at the absurdities and poignancy of life.<\/p>\n
Working as a cartoonist and animator, Olmstead created and animated dozens of characters for comics and computer games. His stories often have the snap and pop that those art forms typically generate.<\/p>\n
He originally hails from New Hampshire and began his career as a cartoonist and writer after moving to Los Angeles. He then made a move to Seattle to work as an animator.<\/p>\n
All the while the stories in his first collection of fiction were germinating in notebooks and drafts. Upon returning to Los Angeles in the mid-aughts, Olmstead set about bringing them to fruition, publishing several in venues like Caf\u00e9 Irreal, Everyday Fiction, and Nomos Review. They are now assembled in “Narratives in Pill Form.”<\/p>\n
His diverse areas of residence have uniquely impacted his voice and vision: the dry wit and sarcasm of New England; the lotus-eater mythology of L.A.; and the quirkiness of the majestic Northwest.<\/p>\n
Olmstead currently resides in Los Angeles with his wife, a nationally recognized jazz vocalist, and their cat, Maxwellton the Third.<\/p>\n
This wickedly funny collection of fiction can be savored individually over days or imbibed whole in one sitting. Poignant, bewildering, or laugh-out-loud funny, whole worlds come together and sometimes fall apart in these very brief stories. Narratives in Pill Form is literary fiction that skirts many genres.<\/p>\n
William Olmstead brings to life scenarios like these:
\na mysterious stranger confounds the residents of a small village;
\nan entire family is jinxed by a mongrel dog;
\nthe evil eye manifests itself on an unwary car salesman;
\na man indulges his final wish to the horror of his family and friends;
\nguided only by his internal organs, a native seer offers his prophecies;
\nan average day in the life of a Norse god;
\ngunmen from another world shoot up a bar in St. Louis;
\nmedieval warriors haze a newcomer;
\na man in ancient Galilee searches for a good carpenter.<\/p>\n
There are also encounters with mimes, artists, nuclear powered motorcycles, rhinoceroses, shoot-outs, gangsters, and, of course, yams.<\/p>\n
Olmstead pokes fun at the human condition while maintaining its heart. His characters are animated and recognizable, abiding in a concise, impactful prose. His writing often blurs the line between stand-up comedy and experimental literature.<\/p>\n
\u201cWorking in short forms is actually a lot of fun,\u201d Olmstead says. \u201cEstablishing a setting, characters, and a fulfilling narrative in one or two pages is a challenge I enjoy. Although I work with longer forms of writing, too, I\u2019ve really enjoyed creating the stories in this collection. My hope is that readers will find something that stays with them.\u201d
\nReader comments:<\/p>\n
\u201cThis collection of vignettes is a big return on a short investment of time. Olmstead showcases his dry, unique brand of humor with his skillful prose and development of nutty characters. Where the heck does he get all those crazy names? He sucks you in and then dumps you with his deadpan last line deliveries. Even though I exceeded the recommended dosage there were no adverse effects. This is a great read for a quick laugh and a brain tangle.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSometimes I smiled, sometimes laughed and sometimes scratched my head!\u201d<\/p>\n
Narratives in Pill Form is an indelible restorative for a busy world.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll Be Seeing You<\/p>\n
I was gardening in my front yard when the man came walking by. \u201cI\u2019ll be seeing you,\u201d he said and waved. I gave a slight wave back.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, I saw him, too,\u201d Herb Kelp told me later. \u201cI\u2019ll be seeing you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Others along Screed Row saw him that day. There was Mrs. Murch and the two workers who were repairing her stone wall. \u201cOh, yes. That’s just what he said. I’ll be seeing you. I think he had a dog with him.\u201d<\/p>\n
I spoke with several people at the pub that evening. With a wave of his hand he had uttered the same thing to each of them as he passed: \u201cI\u2019ll be seeing you.\u201d<\/p>\n
We never saw him again.<\/p>\n
McHughie\u2019s Wake<\/p>\n
When Brian McHughie suddenly dropped dead of a heart attack at the age of forty-two the community was stunned. McHughie was a golf buddy of ours and the most successful car dealer in town. His ads and billboards were legendary \u2013 there he\u2019d be with his big, square, crew cut head, wearing a pair of sunglasses with broad white rims, and an enormous grin. His teeth were huge. His right arm was always raised high at a ninety degree angle, giving a manly wave.<\/p>\n
Jonesy and I walked into Beaver Brothers Funeral Home that Monday to attend McHughie\u2019s wake and were stopped in our tracks. I actually gasped. There was McHughie sitting up in his casket grinning, his arm crooked up in a waving position, wearing those crazy sunglasses, just like on the billboards. Only he was dead. He looked waxy.<\/p>\n
The room was filled with local luminaries. Most of those in attendance appeared, for lack of a better word, uncomfortable. I heard someone utter the word \u201cgrotesque.\u201d<\/p>\n
We saw McHughie\u2019s wife, Tammy, sitting in the corner sobbing, her two teenage kids perched on each side of her. As we approached she shooed the kids away.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you see this idiot?\u201d she sputtered. \u201cHe stipulated in his will that this is what he wanted. I had no idea. My mother nearly had a stroke when she walked in here. And his Aunt Heddie from Minnesota? Fainted dead away. We had to carry her out.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m so sorry, Tammy,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
Jonesy cleared his throat. \u201cI\u2019m sure he meant well?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd that\u2019s not all. Now he wants to be buried in his 1957 Thunderbird — you know, the bright red one? Well, I\u2019ve got news for that bastard.\u201d<\/p>\n
We said our good-byes and sidled away from the grieving widow.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe seems angry. I hope she doesn\u2019t start drinking again,\u201d Jonesy murmured.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, that\u2019s right. I forgot that she used to have a drinking problem.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI guess it\u2019s no wonder. She spent all those years putting up with that,\u201d he said, nodding towards the happy corpse.<\/p>\n
On Friday we stood with eight of our other golf buddies on the ninth green at Pummel Hill Golf Course, one of McHughie\u2019s favorites. We had been called together by Tammy, who sent emails to all of us saying she\u2019d like to have a short memorial service at Pummel Hill before the burial.<\/p>\n
Shortly after noon the thunder of a powerful internal combustion engine blasted away the serenity of the links.
\n(continued)<\/p>\n
http:\/\/www.billolmstead.net<\/a><\/p>\nBest place to buy your book<\/h2>\n