Author Profile: Richard Edenfield


How and when did you decide, or discover, that you were to be a writer?

A girl with red hair when I was in kindergarten. I wrote, “I love you,” on a bathroom pass and gave it to her. She understood the poetry of it. The principal did not understand my poetry. Since then, I have strived to be misunderstood by the right people.

What inspired you to write flash fiction?

I saw a first spring flower the other day coming up through some global warming melting snow. Someone approached the flower with a microphone and asked what inspired them to grow and be beautiful. “I am a flower,” was its flat response. By being itself, it was the cause of endless poetry, tokens of affection, and wonderment. Not to mention perfume and bars of soap. The flower signed autographs daily with a signature of scent twisting a name into the bowing April sky.

I think of flash fiction as graffiti. Literary graffiti. It should shock, incite, and move people to unexpected ways of thinking that makes them look both ways but they still get run over. And I want to be the Keith Herring, Banksy, or Baquiat of writing. But like the birth of Rock & Roll – the establishment looks down on anything that rebels. Tries to stop it. Like the manner in which the literary establishment dismisses flash fiction as shallow and slight with no intrinsic value.  I want to spray paint pieces of Rock & Roll writing that will fit onto the subway and doorway of people’s minds that passersby will see when they look into their eyes framed with eyelashes and bookmarked with blinking.

Describe your writing process.

My right hand is my process. Palmistry. I write using the universe. I really have no process unless the soul is considered a process. I download my soul when I create. It is my favorite app. I update it all the time. And I pilot my soul, regularly, through all kinds of weather so I can arrive in Paris surrounded with lights, champagne, and broken golden reflections of love bubbling up through my veins toasting every unleashed moment of a beating sunrise. Then I am carried away on my own shoulders.

Writing is reflex.

What was the inspiration behind what was published on

The yearbook photo.

What are you working on now?

Not a thing. I’m just eating breakfast. Apple Jacks. I am unplugged… with acoustic 6-string butter and blackberry jam.

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