Lynn Fenske
Bio
I've always been a writer. Copywriter. PR writer. Journalist. Sometimes I make stuff up.
Stories (12)
Filter by community
The Evening News
On the screen is a country on fire. Relentless firestorms devour the landscape and all it contains. A brave few control the view. Others are firefighters, evacuees, or casualties. In-studio reporters interrogate survivors. Helpless millions watch. Change the channel? No way. This is reality they think they want to watch.
By Lynn Fenske2 years ago in Critique
Jaws
June 1975. Millions of moviegoers flooded theaters. They clung to their seats, startled as a big Godzilla-style shark incited bigger fear. A young Steven Spielberg directed part monster thriller, part deadly chase. It does for ocean water what Hitchcock’s “Psycho” did for showers.
By Lynn Fenske2 years ago in Critique
Painkiller
Opiods kill, especially when avarice doctors are rewarded for over-prescribing them. Be shocked when you read journalist Barry Meier’s PAINKILLER, a riveting account of how Arthur and Richard Sackler’s greed and marketing ingenuity caused death and destruction with their creation of Oxycontin. They lied. People died.
By Lynn Fenske2 years ago in Critique
New Life for an Old Gardener
The only thing Ian Downey knew about marigolds is they partner well with tomatoes. Every year Ian planted a border of marigolds around the tomato patch that centered his kitchen garden. He loved how short clusters of golden flowers protected tall, lanky tomato plants from hungry critters, destructive insects and parasites in the soil. He always considered marigolds and tomatoes an unlikely duo yet envied their perfect, symbiotic relationship. He’d never known human collaboration to be as steadfast.
By Lynn Fenske4 years ago in Fiction
Anticipating Joy
I found my mother’s diaries two weeks after she died. I found the hidden package twenty minutes later. The discovery came after an emotional six months of caring for mom at home and seeing her through her final hours in hospital. She was frail and grey. As I held her hand, watching her slip away ripped a never-healing tear in my heart.
By Lynn Fenske4 years ago in Fiction
