Robert Baker: On S.G. Baker

By Robert Baker

She stood on the pinnacle gazing at the masses in the valley below, the wind blowing her short hair gently across her un-furrowed brow. As she assessed the scene below, she moved her hand to the sword sheath that carried her sword, a mighty ball point pen. Her shield, the words she would pen, matched the chain mail and leather outfit of a worthy warrior. Turning swiftly, she moved purposefully as she approached her desk with fervor, as she continued her quest for life and truth.

Jeffrey Schiller: On Martin Jacobsen

By Jeffrey Schiller

What is the difference between Rock and Metal? Mental refinement–something like properly aged wine that comes with hard work, but sold at a reasonable price. The manifestation of that complex emotional ore vein hammered into something intelligent walks into the room. Pocket protector fully stocked. Too many keys swing from his belt loop. Kind eyes smile out from behind thin framed glasses floating above a beard of mostly gray. 70% of what he says makes sense, but the other 30% feels, looks, smells and sounds like a psychedelic trip into the encyclopedia Britannica. You feel smarter and dumber at the same time. It’s comfortable and inviting. Intimidating and inspiring. You can hear the waves crashing in his past. His triumphs over tribulation are listed in his prideless confidence. He is a friend and you can’t help but be happy about that, because friends like this are priceless.

Jay Gurley: On S.G. Baker

It wasn’t until I heard a subdued cackle at the mention of my character, Darrin The Defenestrator, that I noticed her.

By Jay Gurley

It wasn’t until I heard a subdued cackle at the mention of my character, Darrin The Defenestrator, that I noticed her. How or when she drifted to the table next to ours was unknown, but I couldn’t deny her presence now. She didn’t impose herself on┬áthe conversation, but she fell into step with the campaign discussion easily. She looked like she was made for the coffee shop; her hair matched the wood accents of the furniture, her clothes were cozy, and the gently-held book in her hand was apparently well-traveled.

Dumpster Mimicry

I ran across bait this morning.

I ran across bait this morning.


There are creatures in this world who mimic useful, everyday objects in the hopes that some hapless animal or person will stray too close, or pick it up, and become the mimic’s next meal. I nearly made the mistake of picking up this UPS vest. For what UPS worker would just leave a work uniform hanging on a dumpster? Curious.

It was alluring, attention-grabbing; soft brown and subtle yellow in the dawn light. Out of place enough to pique the interest of human prey. But as I reached for it, I paused. Swallowed the sudden dryness from my mouth as I turned my wide-eyed gaze on the dumpster itself. Only a UPS worker who’d had no choice would leave this behind. Probably one facing the first stages of digestion right now.

When I came back later, intent upon tossing my trash into the dumpster down the alley, I discovered that only my ordinary dumpster remained, UPS vest vanished. The mimic had moved on, it seemed, perhaps having decided that this area wasn’t good pickings after all.

Joshua Edwards: On S.G. Baker

By Joshua Edwards

The first thing one noticed about her was a certain sense of friendly aloofness; she seemed to watch and process the world in a curiously intent manner, spending the spoken word in a rather cautious way that illustrated that mighty currency’s inherent value

Update: Thursday Fiction

In which I update on the future of character descriptions content at Word Nerd Scribbles

The time has come for the Character Description Project, which I began in May of this year, to end. That is to say, I ran out of character descriptions to schedule. For a refresher, over the course of a week of vacation from my day job, I wrote some thirty-odd descriptions of my friends on Facebook as if they were characters in a book. I’ve been posting them here since then to get them outside of my social media privacy settings, and we made it almost to the end of 2017 with Thursday posts for my viewers to read about my awesome friends.

My original post called for Facebook friends to leave a comment if they wanted me to write a description for them. But quite a number of them also took the time to write their own character descriptions about me. At the risk of seeming unfathomably egotistical, I saved all of these pieces and have scheduled them to be posted here each week until we run out of those (with permission and credit). I feel that each of them deserves recognition and a modicum of publication for the thought and hard work that went into them, but most of all for the courage that goes into trying your hand at such an incredibly difficult craft. Each of them is about me, but each writer approaches the task with voices and styles unique to the individual. I’m excited to showcase them here on Word Nerd Scribbles and it will be called The Guest Character Description Project.

I dig the notion of keeping Thursday as the day of the week for posting short fiction, so I’ll  continue posting (if irregularly) my own vignettes and flash fiction under the Thursday Fiction category, which will house any original works, including the upcoming guest-written character descriptions. I’m toying with the idea of opening the blog up to submissions from guest writers and bloggers; more on that in the future. Until then, my readers are welcome to weigh in on whether you think that would be a good idea or not.

Martin Jacobsen: On S.G. Baker

By Martin Jacobsen

Her name is Summer, yet she is a Dame of Fall. Like a deciduous autumn tree, her understated stateliness, firm and reaching upward, presides over her russet hair, and ivory skin in the same way branches undergird similarly colored leaves. Like those leaves, she presents shades of being that detach and give way to the next, hues hewn from her spirit in much the same way she has hewn her thick, flowing hair to herald her ever-active emancipation from the Summer before, a sacrifice descending like leaves to the Earth to nourish the next stage of stately growth, forever firm and reaching upward, seeking the Summer elements from which to again flower verdantly toward the burst of colors she will release and from which she will derive sustenance, the sustenance of her own power.