<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?><rss xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" version="2.0"><channel><title><![CDATA[Greg Fields]]></title><description><![CDATA[Greg Fields]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/blog</link><generator>RSS for Node</generator><lastBuildDate>Sat, 17 Oct 2026 00:06:12 GMT</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://www.gregfields.net/blog-feed.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title><![CDATA[The Peace of Stale Air]]></title><description><![CDATA[The late afternoon light through the window that faced Addison Street captured the dirt motes that hung in the stale air inside Liam Finnegan’s apartment. There was no gold to this light. None of the soft and wafting colors that could carry a spent day into a quiet night. Instead this light shone through a window too long unwashed and fell onto tatty carpeting worn through in too many spots. The light itself came to Liam Finnegan’s eyes after bounding through the city’s concrete, steel and...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/the-peace-of-stale-air</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6aad71c5d91f794dbe82d9af</guid><pubDate>Fri, 18 Sep 2026 17:20:44 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/823b8d_15f5231d8ff147e09e8d29cab8e0e9e4~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_337,h_225,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Greg Fields</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[International Dublin Writers Festival ---    Why We Write (Excerpt)]]></title><description><![CDATA[…….And now for the real reason, one which becomes more and more apparent every day. Especially during a time when we’re surrounded by...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/why-we-write-excerpt-from-september-international-dublin-writers-festival</link><guid isPermaLink="false">68d2e72abb3ee0c0b362f64e</guid><category><![CDATA[Blog]]></category><pubDate>Tue, 23 Sep 2025 18:39:33 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/823b8d_3e7702cfc3634dd39a4280094b9cfb79~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_656,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Greg Fields</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Rhythm Lost]]></title><description><![CDATA[When she was a young girl Rosie Carter loved to dance.  Her small body would sway to the slightest hint of music – a bird’s song, or the...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/rhythm-lost</link><guid isPermaLink="false">686d39a1f04dc635589aa3e3</guid><category><![CDATA[Blog]]></category><pubDate>Tue, 08 Jul 2025 15:34:17 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/823b8d_90c643d03fd443e891b219db34a7cf57~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_770,h_433,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Greg Fields</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Willie in the Wind]]></title><description><![CDATA[It had been a night of drinking, and an unsuccessful one at that.  The scotch at the first bar had been flat and harsh, and when he...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/willie-in-the-wind</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6845e3793f9d19c9670accfb</guid><category><![CDATA[IWC Stories ]]></category><pubDate>Sun, 08 Jun 2025 19:26:21 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/823b8d_ab4a80d368f740c18e4de31e70c67681~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_454,h_255,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Greg Fields</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Coldest of Places]]></title><description><![CDATA[The snow came bitterly the winter after Willie Meadows buried his mother, the winds blowing so hard that the flakes felt like tiny...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/the-coldest-of-places</link><guid isPermaLink="false">679122b5b64e0286f4334c6c</guid><category><![CDATA[IWC Stories ]]></category><pubDate>Wed, 22 Jan 2025 16:59:30 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/823b8d_0f13bd002f6148a7a740882112572458~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_273,h_220,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Greg Fields</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Stairway to Heaven]]></title><description><![CDATA[The call had come the night before from a voice at once mechanical and practiced at the disbursement of bad news, yet one which still...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/stairway-to-heaven</link><guid isPermaLink="false">65ca2eaef3fd2e5bf4c5ed01</guid><category><![CDATA[IWC Stories ]]></category><pubDate>Mon, 12 Feb 2024 14:47:04 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/823b8d_d39b90252a9f4dc0a57271684d1c19f8~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_349,h_233,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Greg Fields</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Sins of the Fathers]]></title><description><![CDATA[When the door to his room kicked open, Matthew Cooney curled into a protective ball on his bed, tucked his knees into his chest and...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/the-sins-of-the-fathers</link><guid isPermaLink="false">64e50ade526b62bdc33e25ba</guid><category><![CDATA[IWC Stories ]]></category><pubDate>Tue, 22 Aug 2023 19:24:51 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/823b8d_40a582eddc2348aea88da844a5def0f5~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_395,h_222,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Greg Fields</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Cooing of the Mourning Doves]]></title><description><![CDATA[Cooney turned his back to the rising sun and made his way down wind-blown streets littered with shreds of newspaper and fast-food...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/the-cooing-of-the-mourning-doves</link><guid isPermaLink="false">64299e8d67ea117870f6a943</guid><category><![CDATA[IWC Stories ]]></category><pubDate>Sun, 02 Apr 2023 15:28:04 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/823b8d_72a57c47133842b9b1221e556a24f84d~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_782,h_374,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Greg Fields</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[In the Shadows of Moonlight]]></title><description><![CDATA[In the lean years, before the end of it all, before the final curtain, Emma Mannion thought little of her past, little of the rutted and...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/in-the-shadows-of-moonlight</link><guid isPermaLink="false">63cbff43728d991701b5b321</guid><category><![CDATA[IWC Stories ]]></category><pubDate>Sat, 21 Jan 2023 15:18:05 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/823b8d_740fe8210e2b4c428f858a75ca9883da~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_770,h_530,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Greg Fields</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Living in a Free State]]></title><description><![CDATA[Vanity of Vanities; all is Vanity – Ecclesiastes 1:2 Another day to the streets, the crawling, creeping, beeping streets and those who...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/living-in-a-free-state</link><guid isPermaLink="false">634361886ba5943767e0792e</guid><category><![CDATA[IWC Stories ]]></category><pubDate>Mon, 10 Oct 2022 00:13:08 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/823b8d_c86bdac632804d1792a558e2b899e21d~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_362,h_227,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Greg Fields</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[To See Through the Dark]]></title><description><![CDATA[For Conor Finnegan, the drive north was a drive into his past.  Out of Washington on Interstate 95 and through the mangle of Baltimore on...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/to-see-through-the-dark</link><guid isPermaLink="false">62cadd14e96fadfa35ca890f</guid><category><![CDATA[IWC Stories ]]></category><pubDate>Sun, 10 Jul 2022 14:11:38 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/823b8d_90ab802c6ac84774bc08638b38b9d556~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_393,h_172,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Greg Fields</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[A Bit of Heat, A Bit of Light]]></title><description><![CDATA[Winter swept into an April night like a vapor, crawling under doorways and wafting itself into the air, chilling what it touched and...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/a-bit-of-heat-a-bit-of-light</link><guid isPermaLink="false">62766241d2a14538ddc05f7f</guid><category><![CDATA[IWC Stories ]]></category><pubDate>Sat, 07 May 2022 12:16:49 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/823b8d_e2d3c0fbc27e41a3a85548cf0b475012~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_300,h_199,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Greg Fields</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Notes of an Invisible Man]]></title><description><![CDATA[‘A man could live for years in this swarming mass of streets and time and never be seen,’ Cooney thought to himself.  The blinders that...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/notes-of-an-invisible-man</link><guid isPermaLink="false">622ca0efed6dd844e0ff8596</guid><category><![CDATA[IWC Stories ]]></category><pubDate>Sat, 12 Mar 2022 13:46:49 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/823b8d_59c3118849ca4fd491c00c0f03f88e16~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_915,h_915,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Greg Fields</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Black Hand, and Nothing To It]]></title><description><![CDATA[The glass was almost empty now, nothing but the crispy bits of ice chips floating in the final puddle at the bottom.  Donal Mannion...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/the-black-hand-and-nothing-to-it</link><guid isPermaLink="false">61e0c1c6123ea400164785b5</guid><category><![CDATA[IWC Stories ]]></category><pubDate>Fri, 14 Jan 2022 00:23:18 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/823b8d_77721ef012b04a489768187495907c04~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_845,h_634,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Greg Fields</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Cleaning the Shattered Bits]]></title><description><![CDATA["I’ve something to tell you, Gina.” Donal Mannion took a sip of his scotch, the pathway to his courage and the herald of his greatest...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/cleaning-the-shattered-bits</link><guid isPermaLink="false">61412b32e364e200169fb22e</guid><category><![CDATA[IWC Stories ]]></category><pubDate>Tue, 14 Sep 2021 23:13:32 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/823b8d_ef2069bf1d9a425ea955f71e2e72a6ae~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_289,h_288,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Greg Fields</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[In the Blurring]]></title><description><![CDATA[It was along 14th Street on a hot summer’s afternoon, and Donal Mannion needed a drink.  Donal Mannion often needed a drink these days,...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/in-the-blurring</link><guid isPermaLink="false">611d9763143a7b00159ded3b</guid><category><![CDATA[IWC Stories ]]></category><pubDate>Wed, 18 Aug 2021 23:33:27 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/823b8d_a61d3afade8e4616ac2df041c5661533~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_332,h_250,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Greg Fields</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Dancing with Anna Livia]]></title><description><![CDATA[There are fourteen river Gods in Ireland, though, in typical Irish style, one of them is the God of the Atlantic Ocean. Of these Gods...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/dancing-with-anna-livia</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6111c4632028ac0015b36dc9</guid><category><![CDATA[IWC Stories ]]></category><pubDate>Tue, 10 Aug 2021 00:15:17 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/823b8d_b0ce52a9e8184bb69b7c37d3cc112592~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_266,h_198,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Greg Fields</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Summer in the City]]></title><description><![CDATA[A clear day it was with moderate heat under a sky broken with the occasional cloud and a breeze that came and went just long enough to...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/summer-in-the-city</link><guid isPermaLink="false">610b17e79987bb001523706d</guid><category><![CDATA[IWC Stories ]]></category><pubDate>Sun, 01 Aug 2021 04:00:00 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/823b8d_704fc50bb71e4fcb9bc02d5d76b48775~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_325,h_217,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Greg Fields</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[             Angels In The Dark Days]]></title><description><![CDATA[In early April in 1994 a missile shot up from the hillsides near the Kigali airport and brought down a small plane holding Juvenal...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/angels-in-the-dark-days</link><guid isPermaLink="false">606cac0d0483420015dad47a</guid><category><![CDATA[Blog]]></category><pubDate>Tue, 06 Apr 2021 18:48:22 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/71a29a_2b596ba7801944b8ba145c1f97465df9~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_1000,h_740,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>fields1026</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Everything Slips Through These Cold Fingers]]></title><description><![CDATA[Gina Morelli shut the clasp on her carry-on bag, a scarf no longer needed in the warmth of the bar tucked next to a gathering of...]]></description><link>https://www.gregfields.net/post/everything-slips-through-these-cold-fingers</link><guid isPermaLink="false">610b17323c86770015f9f518</guid><category><![CDATA[IWC Stories ]]></category><pubDate>Sun, 07 Feb 2021 05:00:00 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/823b8d_0e2bd939d9cb4841a810343b0e7415b1~mv2.jpg/v1/fit/w_365,h_474,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Greg Fields</dc:creator></item></channel></rss>