Poem: Writing Mind

Managed to spend a good four to five hours writing today! This is good news! I worked on a few projects at once, but one project I really got in to today. I realized I could probably submit it to the writer’s digest contest by June 1st, but to do that it needs some serious rewrites.

I got in the writers mindset a lot today and trying to emerge…is like waking up from a deep sleep. (At least it is for me.) I get this spacey expression on my face, and conversation is difficult, because part of me is still thinking about character’s dialogue in my head or planning which way a character is gong to go next.  It is an interesting feeling to say the least, but hey, at least I was productive today!

Pictured I snapped this weekend at the lake.

a writing sort of mood

everything sounds like poetry

blank stare

“Whaa…”

emerge from the world

like a band-aid ripped from a wound

jarred back to the present

words are like poetry

the trees are like poetry in motion

and everything is heavy, heavy, heavy

like a dark blanket

trapping the sun

in its shadows

Random Flash Fiction: Miss Green

Hmm. Wanted to write some fiction tonight. Sat down and this kind of popped out. Not sure I’ll continue…but hey, it’s something. 

Hope everyone is having a great night, and happy writing!

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Miss Green

Her hair was the color of straw; in dreads and pulled up on the top of her head. I loved the way it looked heavy and woolly, like she was carrying some sort of burden that spoke of an adventurous spirit, a need to get a way and explore.

She wore an electric green top, and the jewelry on her nose and ears and hands were a metallic green. She looked like something electric and natural, like a cyborg-computer mixed into the natural environment; something that couldn’t be outdated or out-sourced.

I’d ventured into this club because my friends told me to. Go to The Hollow they told me, you’ll love it. “Eclectic,” another friend had said. “Eccentric,” said another.

I found it to be a place full of oddities – like me. I wasn’t in any position to judge, really. My shy, awkward persona seemed to melt well into the absurd: the guy wearing the golden tights and the black sparkly mask, the woman dressed in garb that looked nineteenth century, and the blonde with the silver bikini and chewbacca tattoo on her stomach. What guy couldn’t resist a woman who had an ode to one of the greatest movies on earth tattooed on her body?

I found Miss Cyborg-Green on the dance floor. She was dancing to a funky beat; something with all drums and a nasal groan. Every one else seemed to be talking or drinking – not the typical mixed drinks and beer, no – mostly ales and wine, and I saw someone drinking coffee.

The lights were dim, but not completely dark. There was an atmosphere of frivolity. If I blinked my eyes, I could lose myself in another world. I felt the magic, the otherness in the air and was certain that Miss Green was a person that I wanted to meet.

Reading Anything Good Lately?

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I always know it’s time to clean my bedroom, when the books start piling up next to the bed. And they do, regularly. Case in point: the picture above. (Apparently the book store clerk thought it was a crime that I haven’t read The Phantom Tollbooth yet. I know!)

But it got me thinking tonight, how much I love books. And I do read a lot.

Because every new book is new inspiration. Terry Prachett and Stephen Baxter’s book, The Long Earth, had me thinking about parallel universes today, and how cool it would be to write a book about a different earth in a different part of the universe.

Kristin Cashore’s, Graceling, reminds me that dialogue is fun. The banter between characters is supposed to be full of tension and then yet equally entertaining but with an end game in mind.

And this new book that I started reading last month, by Genevieve Cogman, The Invisible Library, reminds me that many, many people share a love for books and it is something that connects us in more ways than others. Sharing a good book with someone else is like sharing a gift sometimes. If that book brings joy, well then, yeah, it was definitely worth it.

Anyway, What are you reading? Anything good?! Got any recommendations?

Hope everyone is having a great night!

Cleaning; and Editing My Story

img_20161120_130352703_hdr.jpgObserve the picture at right…my stack of books piled next to my bed.

This happens every once in a while; the books pile up and it is time to do some cleaning. This goes along with the vacuuming, and laundry and yes, being an adult is waay over-rated sometimes.

Along with cleaning, though, I’ve been trying to edit one of my stories today and this becomes its own sort of cleaning…

You have to clean the sentences; trim down the wording until you have clear, precise language and what you are trying to say isn’t bogged down by excessive adjectives or adverbs.

Oh, beware of the too many adverbs! These are the ones that you have to watch out for.

What I’ve learned, though, is that I am terrible at editing my own work! I know that many authors have expressed that it is a major suck-fest to edit and I would have to agree.

It is fun sometimes when you can see the clear direction that a story is supposed to go on the page. Sometimes you know know how things are meant to be…and sometimes not.

This is when the frustration comes in.

I’ve gotten into the habit of jumping around and then going back to the point in a story that I find particularly irksome at a later date. This helps because then you come back to the page with a fresh mind and sometimes new ideas.

What about you guys? Got any great editing techniques out there?

Poem: Rain

Sigh, I love rain…how many poems have I written about rain? Too many. Very much a rainy Thursday today. But despite the gloom, I had a rather nice day!

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Big drops in tiny puddles

leaves heavy and wet

cats shaking paws all befuddled

Let’s see if it’s stopped yet

Rain boots and big umbrellas

yellow coats and squeaky shoes

’round a corner, “let’s splash that fella!”

sniffley noses, colds and flus

For me: it’s a good book and hot tea

quiet adventures, all alone

it’s not lonely, my book and me

It’s…a feeling of home.

 

I like writing silly poems like this for you guys. It entertains me…and rhyming is fun even if you’re just doing it for fun. Hope everyone had a great day! Happy writing!

Writing Prompt # 147: ‘Sorrow croons for love…”

Looking for a little inspiration tonight. Liking the new location, but still struggling to become comfortable with new surroundings and this is very important for us writer-types. We need to be able to find our writing voice anywhere, and I want to make sure mine is still there alive and kicking.

Got this prompt off creativewritingprompts.com because the book I usually use is packed away somewhere and I haven’t opened all of my office boxes yet…whoops. Not sure if its supposed to be a short story? A poem? Where it goes, nobody knows…

(Oh, and it totally isn’t # 147 on the website, I lost the number when I clicked away from the page. Oh well, it’s somewhere!)


Sorrow croons for love lost

tomorrow is another day

today is an opportunity

The young woman closed the book in her lap with a snap. “What a bunch of hooey,” she muttered.

Love wasn’t an opportunity for her…far from it. She grabbed her black shoulder bag where it was squashed against her legs on the concrete. She stood up and brushed the dirt off her clothes. Like it would matter. Her skin crawled and her head ached. Her dirty-colored blond hair fell in tangled waves around her pale face.

She walked on. The streetlights cast the street in a strange green type of glow. The road looked like it was full of molten lava, all cracked and glowing as cars rumbled over the potholes.

The librarian she’d met while she was rummaging through the library’s trash bins didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Here, honey,” she’d said. “I was going to take this home and shelve it…but you have it. You look like you could use a little love in this life.”

She’d taken it with numb fingers. She’d never been one of those people to remember gloves. And the old woman had looked so clean and smelled of lotion. The kind that her mother used to wear before she’d had thrown herself out of the window after Daddy shot himself.

She wasn’t sure if she had even said, ‘thank you.’

The woman had given her a weak smile and then had shuffled off. Like she knew already that Sarah didn’t have the words to say what she should have.

Sarah found a more comfortable place amongst the moss and the concrete, and the trickles of water underneath the red bridge which cut across the only dirty water-way in her not-so-small town.

She opened the crinkly pages, ran her fingers over words that were clean and very old but brand new to her. She pondered that for a brief moment, how words were never the proper age to anyone. They were always becoming something new, meaning something different to anyone. Somewhat…timeless.

A frog jumped and she with it, and the croak he left with a splash gurgled across the empty spaces, the cool night, the sound of concrete rumbling, cars and artificial light.

“Words are timeless,” she read.

age is but a number

crawls across space

and time, and I with it

“Don’t be just another number,” she continued, eyes glued to the page.

be the delicate words

you are reading so much about.

 

 

Flash Fiction: The Proposal

I write a lot of notes in my phone’s notebook. Grocery lists, dreams, story ideas, names, blog ideas…you get the picture.

Found this in my phone written about a year ago. I guess I was going to submit it somewhere, but had forgotten about.

Going back and reading my dreams, too, are a hoot, but I think that’s worthy of a post all on its own. Anyway, enjoy. 🙂


The Proposal

A man leans against his black SUV in the early morning chill and stares down at his burning hands. His girlfriend left him, or maybe she died; it doesn’t matter now.

He thinks it might matter when he can get back inside and finally warm his hands, but he can’t decide what to do. His thoughts are jumbled, and panic ignites in his chest. He fumbles with the door handle behind him and climbs back in the SUV, rubbing and blowing at his hands.

He eyes the velvety box sitting in the glove box, which has spilled open, papers sliding down to the mat on the passenger side floor. He calls 911 and starts to sob into the receiver.

“Fiance,” he gasps. “Floor. Not breathing.”

He relives the scene etched forever into his vision as he begins to describe what happened. Her collapsed body on the sofa, her arm dancing towards the floor. The other one pinned awkwardly underneath her chest. She could have been passed out from drink, she could have been drooling into the sofa cushions, but she wasn’t.

Yesterday, she had told him yes, but today doesn’t feel like an affirmation.

Later, they will tell him that a complication with her medications was the cause; a misuse of sleeping aids. It haunts him to think that maybe she couldn’t sleep because she wasn’t happy, or that maybe she was too happy and sleep wouldn’t come.

Either way the cold continued, and he could never warm his hands.

Friday Night Writing

Already had my glass of wine, and in bed before 9:30 on a Friday night…but there’s some silver lining here; going to try to write some!

“Gonna try to write something,” I told Mike, the other half. “Escape from the shit in the world for a while.”

Isn’t that the case most of the time, though?

When the world gets too much, or when it’s just not enough, we disappear into the fictional one for an adventure, a distraction that gets us out of this dysfunctional funk we find ourselves in half the time.

Maybe this is why I also love Children’s Literature. There’s always an adventure, always something to be learned but usually a positive outcome in the end.

And we could all use a happy ending, every once and awhile.

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Happy Writing!

 

 

 

The Liebster Award Nomination!

Thank you to Dainelle Hunter for nominating me for the Liebster Award! It means a lot to me that you thought of me. 🙂 I hope this gives readers more of an insight into my writing and what this blog is about.

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The rules are as follows:

1: Thank the blog who nominated you and link back to them.
2: Make a blog post telling 11 facts about you.
3: Answer the 11 questions from the blog who nominated you.
4: Prepare 11 questions for those you will nominate.
5: Nominate 11 new bloggers (those who have less than 200 followers) by commenting in one of their blog posts.

11 Facts About Me:

~My favorite TV Show of all time is Firefly. (FireflyThe fact that it only had one season is an atrocity.

~I only write with one with kind of pen. (Gel pen, black ink, pilot G-2 07.)

~I hate memes where the sentences are deliberately spelled wrong, drives me nuts! (Like: ‘he’s doin me a hurtin’….grrrraaggh)

~I like to write movie and TV show reviews.wpid-img_20140602_185717984.jpg

~I love libraries and books stores.

~I am a tea drinker, love tea.

~I love being outdoors; the trees, the quietness.

~I have an obsession with nicknames. A lot of my characters have nicknames. I think its interesting how people/characters are much more than the names they are given, and the ones they’ve grown into.

~I am a dog person. I like cats, too. But if I were to have one pet it’d be a golden retriever, lab, or a mix.

~My favorite color is now purple. (It used to be blue but my grandma passed recently and that was also her color.)

~I own about five different Star Wars t-shirts.

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Answering 11 Questions for being Nominated:

1. Why did you start blogging?

  • I started blogging to get myself to write an least something a day. I wasn’t writing anymore and it worried me. I would go weeks without writing anything. I started blogging just to get back into writing.

2. What do you love/ hate about blogging?

  • I love how freeing blogging is. It really is like writing in a diary, you can feel free to be yourself and that’s that.  I hate that I don’t have the time to write daily or more quality posts.

3.What is your philosophy?

  • I’d say…Live life to the fullest, no regrets.

4.What career are you pursuing/ What is your occupation and why?

  • I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. Ideally a writer, who actually makes money. 😛 Right now I’m in data entry.

5.Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

  • Hopefully published! And working on other projects.

6.Who is your favorite fictional character?

  • I’ve always loved Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. He is supposed to be the bad guy, but by the end of the show you can’t help but love him. He’s so pathetic and amusing.

7. What is your favorite movie?

  • I have a lot. Inception, Star Wars (of course), Princess Bride, Guardians of the Galaxy are probably the top faves though.

8.What is your favorite book/ quote?

  • I am a big fan of Maggie Steifvater. All of her words are great. But I really loved this one from The Dream Theives:

“There are three kinds of secrets. One is the sort everyone knows about, the sort you need at least two people for. One to keep it. One to never know. The second is a harder kind of secret: one you keep from yourself. Every day, thousands of confessions are kept from their would-be confessors, none of these people knowing that their never-admitted secrets all boil down to the same three words: I am afraid.”

9.  What is your zodiac sign?

  • Gemini.

10. What is your biggest fear?

  • Fear of failure is a big one for me.

11. Describe the strangest dream you’ve ever had.

  • I had a dream I was a dolphin once. I was leaping in and out of waves, it was so much fun and exhilarating…and then I woke up.

Questions for Nominees:

  1. What is your favorite book of all time?
  2. Why did you start blogging?
  3. What is your biggest fear?
  4. If you could have a super power, what would it be and why?
  5. What is your favorite kind of food?
  6. What is your favorite movie?
  7. What is your favorite thing to do during the Summer?
  8. What is your Zodiac sign?
  9. Do you believe in the supernatural? (Vampires, werewolves, ghosts?)
  10. Describe your strangest dream.
  11. What would you say is the best thing about you?

And that’s that! I can’t wait to read what you guys come up with!

Hope everyone has a great weekend! 🙂

A Quick Thanks and Writing Prompt, “When I first told…”

Wow, thanks guys so much for your comments and insight on when to kill characters! It means a lot to me that you guys are reading and care enough to leave a few words or two.

I think the plan is to work on my story in the next few days and see what happens. I think I will write my character’s death and see how it works out for the story…and if it seems too much, and not at all fitting for the story, I can always go back and change it.

That’s something that I am still wrestling with…I shouldn’t expect something to be perfect from the get go, because nothing really is, so why should writing be like that? The great thing about first drafts…you can always go back and edit!

I think I’ll try something new for tonight, and do a quick writing prompt. Time to breathe deep, sit back, relax, and get to writing!

Hope everyone has a great night! Happy Writing!


Writing Prompt, “When I first told my family about ___ they didn’t believe me.”  (This one’s from The Pocket Muse, by Monica Wood.)

wpid-img_20150901_200812317.jpgWhen I first told my family about the aliens, they didn’t believe me.

“Aliens? Here? In this dinky town?” scoffed my sister. She rummaged around in her purse and pulled out some lipstick. “Please, Caddie, your imagination is too big for your own good.”

“But there were!” I insisted. “I just got done at the bank and I stepped out on the curb and there it was: this giant red flying saucer hovering over the clock tower on Church Street. I yelled, ‘holy crap! What is that!” and several people came running.”

“Were there police?” said my mother, who was standing at the counter, doing dishes. She didn’t seem too interested in the conversation. No, she looked tired. Like she always looked nowadays after her and Daddy split up.

“I think so,” I said, as I leaned against the kitchen counter next to her. My sister, Teresa, was sitting on a stool at the table in the center of the kitchen, and she was still reapplying her lipstick. “Terese, it looks fine, don’t you care at all about what I have to say? Aliens? Red saucer? End of the world?”

“Please,” she said, as she smacked her lips and emerged from behind her compact. “You’re just being dramatic. It’s probably some hoax, or someone from the city making a movie. You’re always making up little stories of yours, baby sister.”

“Just because I’m a writer, doesn’t mean I’m lying,” I pouted. “Mom, don’t you believe me?”

“Sure, honey,” said Mom with a tired smile and soapy pat.

“Don’t you guys want to hear what they look like?”

“You saw them?” said Terese with a raise of her eyebrows. She made a face. “Were there testicles?” She gasped and put her hands to her face and I knew she was making fun of me. “Laser beams?” she shrieked.

I grumbled as she stomped from the room in her heels, her laughter echoing around our drafty house. It seemed so empty nowadays.

“What’s Dad doing this weekend?” I asked Mom tentatively. I tried not to sound hopeful. Spring break started next week, and I wanted to see him before me and few friends left for vacation. And before I had to go back to classes and studying and more studying.

“I don’t know,” said Mom, “Why don’t you give him a call?”

“Have…you guys talked recently?”

Mom shrugged. “Here and there.”

“So, he’s not coming over for dinner anytime soon?”

Mom scrubbed a pan, although it didn’t really need anymore cleaning. “It was his choice to leave,” she said, I could barely hear her. “He knows where we are if he wants to find us.”

“I don’t think it’s like that–”

“Please honey, you don’t know what its like.”

I eyed my mother but she had that stern, impenetrable look on her face. Something that used to only be softened by Daddy’s laughter, and her babies. But we were all grown up now and Dad was gone.

“Are there really aliens about to run amok among us?” she asked when I didn’t say anything.

My smile was brief. “There was an art show in town today. Someone had painted a red saucer over church street, and the clock tower…it was a good likeness.”

Mom nodded and the smile almost reached her eyes. Almost. “Give your Dad a call, honey…you never know. But he doesn’t want to talk to me.”  She dried her hands on a towel, gave my arm a squeeze and then left the room.

I pulled the phone off the cradle on the kitchen counter, and dialed Dad’s new cell number.

He answered on the fifth ring. “Caddie? What’s up honey?”

“Hey Dad, guess what? I saw some aliens in town today…”