Tag Archives: writing

Stumped

Wayne took his farmer’s cap off and used his handkerchief to mop the perspiration from his forehead and balding pate.  He stuffed the kerchief into his back pocket and shook his head.

“I don’t know Miss Lydia.  This sure is a puzzle,” he said as he set his cap back in its place.

“There has to be something we can do!  That thing is ruining my plans.”  Miss Lydia lamented.  She was definitely in a sour mood.  In all of her 86 years, she hadn’t let a little problem defeat her.  This one would be overcome as well.  As they stood in Miss Lydia’s yard, a crowd was starting to gather.  In a small town such as Sinippi Cove, anything could serve as an opportunity to congregate.  Each new addition looked the situation over thoroughly before passing judgement.

Harvey, who was a member of Sinippi Cove’s volunteer fire department, offered, “Fire might do the trick.”

“I was thinking we needed some chains,” Tug from the hardware store suggested.  Clyde Parks had seen the group and felt he should be present at any gathering being he was the mayor of Sinippi Cove.

“What is going on here?” Clyde’s booming voice questioned.  Miss Lydia gave him a look that would have turned the average man to stone, but you see, Clyde had survived much worse during the Great War having lost his right leg.  A prosthetic was secured to his stump, and he was proud that he could keep up with all the young whippersnappers who had collected in Miss Lydia’s yard.  Miss Lydia just pointed her finger at the offensive object.

“Dynamite would take care of it,” Clyde asserted.  As mayor, he felt he could offer solutions that others might not have the authority to suggest.

“What?  Blow my house to kingdom come and back?   Humphf!”  Miss Lydia started to mutter which was definitely not a promising sign.  There followed a display of throat clearing, head scratching and shuffling of feet as they waited for another morsel of wisdom concerning the current predicament.

Clarice Travers carried a tray of moisture covered glasses containing cold lemonade handing them out to the conclave of citizens.  Murmured thanks were given for the kind contribution.  The sun was getting higher in the sky, and the temperature was going to reach the triple digits soon.

Suggestions included horses,  chemicals, and Pinterest.  “What in blue blazes is this Pintfester?  Don’t waste my time,” Miss Lydia threatened.  “Humphf, Pinterranets.  Bull puckey.”

“No, Miss Lydia, it’s P…”  The speaker was elbowed and shushed.  No one wanted to get on the wrong side of the octogenarian.  A group of Red Hat Ladies, heading for a luncheon, stopped.  It looked like a party, and anyone familiar with Red Hat Ladies knows they love parties.  It is the whole reason they exist.  The noise escalated to ear drum rupturing levels as the females bestowed their combined knowledge on the assemblage.

The tree stump would have to wait.  Miss Lydia wanted a nap.

Love and Loss

Each story, while unique, has a central theme that the reader can identify themselves with personally.  One of the most poignant themes concerns “Love and Loss”.  Stories, poetry, and songs have paid homage to these tender emotions for as long as humankind has walked the Earth.

I’ve laughed and cried while my favorite characters have struggled as they dealt with love found and love lost.  I rooted for Rhett Butler to win Scarlett’s love and found myself devastated when fortune didn’t cooperate.  Right or wrong, as a teen, I searched for my own hero so that I could live happily forever in a white house with a picket fence.  I ignored the “nice guy” in favor of the “bad boy” FB_IMG_1445913233417_kindlephoto-1998123 (2)experiencing my cycle of stories of love and loss.

The flirty banter between our characters is balanced by the angry and tearful rhetoric in another chapter.  So goes real life.

Over the past few months, I’ve said good-bye to good friends and family as they left this world.  I watched the anguish of love found and love lost knowing I couldn’t change the outcome like I can on the written page.  But comfort can be found in knowing as long as our own stories continue — love will be found, will be lost and will be discovered anew.

 

Looking for Inspiration

2015-06-19_194509000_AADCD_iOSIf you talk about writing with anyone, at some point you will hear the quote — “Write what you know.” — Mark Twain’s famous words.  So does this mean if you are a truck driver you should only write about driving trucks.

No, I don’t believe Twain meant it literally.  I will be sitting at home with my laptop waiting for an idea to pop into my consciousness.  A scene from a day, a week or months ago will come to mind.  A funny story about a friend can suddenly have an influence on how my character will act in a certain situation.

Our pasts and our futures can be the impetus for a story.  I mentioned my canine muse in the blog, The Best of Intentions.  My furry companion and his antics will more than likely show up in several of my future writings.  In Exodus, the protagonist’s yellow lab is an amalgamation of my buddy and some of the dogs I’ve met over the years.

During my walks, I will suddenly have the solution for a plot line which wasn’t working.  I can hear dialog between characters.  When I get home I will grab my notebook and scribble the thoughts on the page hoping I didn’t forget anything.  I have even been known to get up out of bed during the night to jot down a scene.

Obsessive?  Probably, but it’s so much fun when the stories unfold.  The real work happens after the ideas are written.  Then it is up to the writer to mold those snippets of life’s inspirations into an entertaining story.

The Best of Intentions

I admit it.  I’m not good at always following through.  I’ve had diaries, journals and another blog before I started this one.  It had been over a year between posts.

Yikes!  A lot happened…I’ve had my reasons.  Seriously, I have.  Four things occurred in my life which interfered with my blog time.

Oh?  Just four.  Yes, I can hear voices in my head.  I feel I need to disclose to my readers — I do talk back (thought you should know).   Also, I have the privilege of having only sarcastic voices.  I blame my early years in NYC and an Irish Catholic dad from the South Bronx for this issue.  Back to the matter at hand (as you can see I might have ADD too).

The first event was on Thanksgiving eve 2014, my eldest son decided he would like to be the proud owner of a yellow lab puppy.  I felt the spirit of the holiday and agreed it would be great to have a dog around the house again.  We drove over 5 hours round trip that same night to get him.  I know…

Number Two — I developed a severe case of puppy caretaker syndrome.  Every photo I took had a puppy in it.   Every conversation revolved around the puppy.  My daily schedule was now dictated by a small dog.  He didn’t stay small for long.  But that is another story for another time.

Number three is not humorous.  My mom got sick.  Very sick.  At 80 years of age, she needed more help than my other non-medical siblings could provide.  I spent 6 months with her.  Occasionally returning home to assure my husband I still lived there.  My mom is better, is able to live in her own home, and I’m able to live in mine.

I returned home to a half-grown lab and time on my hands.  Here comes number four — I read a lot.  My Kindle has now become two Kindles so I can always have one charged. Can anyone say “Addiction!”?   I joined a writing forum, and  I started to write.  I love it, and spend my time reading other writer’s work, writing on my own projects and occasionally posting on my site.

A yellow lab can be found in some of my books.  I guess you know where I get my inspiration.

How Not to Blog

I think the axiom that “it always looks easier than it is” holds true for blogging.  I didn’t think it would be so difficult to decide on what sort of format I would choose?  Do I add gadgets?  And if so, how many?  I think I changed the template and layout about 30 times!

That calls into question whether or not I am too indecisive or too much of a perfectionist.  I can tell you right now that perfectionism is not something I’m too worried about.  So that leaves indecision… And the main impetus of doing this blog is “What Will I Do Now??”  So it works.

A photograph was necessary for the website, blog, Facebook, twitter, etc.  I am a novice at taking “selfies”.  I don’t particularly like having my photo taken.  So, I am trying to use my smart phone which I hate to admit is smarter than I am at times. There are so many steps to remember!  I have to get the right lighting, try not to get my fingers in the photo or the clutter on the table and try not to look so startled.  Having seen the “selfies” my nieces seem to create daily, I knew I would have to make some choices about whether I should do a “fish face”, open my mouth in surprise as if I didn’t realize I was going to take a photo of myself, or put my hand on my hip like I’m on the red carpet.  I didn’t make any of these choices so I think my photo is unique in its own way.

I haven’t seen this kind of selfie yet 🙂

I’m not sure that my nieces would approve, but I believe that good dental care is important.


My journey of self-fulfillment and actualization was at a standstill today.  I had to run errands.  I worked on my blog.  Oh, and I took a few “selfies”.

FYI

Did you know?

  • You can read Bite Size Stories for FREE if you have Amazon Prime
  • Kindle books can be read on any device just download the appropriate app — I have Kindle available on my iPhone and on my laptop, so I can read wherever and whenever I want
  • If you want to help get quality books published online, consider becoming a Kindle Scout.  You read excerpts from unpublished books and can nominate the ones you enjoy!

The Hungry Games

I plan on posting some of my short stories and excerpts of my novels for your enjoyment.   Watch for future posts of my original stories.

Natalie jumped up and down in front of her mirror trying to suck in her gut.  She pulled the edges of her pants together in the hopes that a miracle would happen and she would get them close enough to zip up her lucky jeans.

At least they used to be her lucky jeans.

“Nat! Come on, we need to leave,” her roommate, Claudia yelled.

“Just a sec, I’ll be out in a minute!”  Natalie hopped to her bed.  One more thing to try.  She flopped onto her back holding her breath while she prayed for divine intervention.

Almost there.  Finally, they zipped.  She lay there wondering if she could actually get up from the bed.  Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

“Nat!  I’m leaving with or without you.” Claudia sounded pissed off.

Natalie rolled onto her side using her arms to prop herself up into a semi-sitting position.  She heard the front door open.  If she wasn’t meeting up with a guy she had a huge crush on, she wouldn’t even go.  Natalie couldn’t miss a chance to catch his eye.

Natalie shuffled stiff-legged towards her bedroom door.  She walked like a zombie in that TV show.  That would draw attention.

As she moved down the hallway, she heard Claudia gasp, “How’d you even get those on?  You can barely walk.  Can you even sit?”  Claudia walked around her in a circle shaking her head.

“These are my lucky jeans and I really thought I needed to wear them tonight, but I guess I’ve gained a bit of weight,”  Natalie mumbled embarrassed by her lack of discipline.  “I’ll figure it out.  Let’s just go, alright.  I don’t want to be late.”

Natalie lurched out to the car and with some maneuvering she was able to close the car door.  She reclined her seat back as far back as possible.  Natalie was positive the blood supply to her legs was cut off.  Her legs felt numb.

“You aren’t going to be able to sit at a table,” Claudia helpfully informed her.

“I can hang at the bar.  I won’t be eating anyway.  I’m on a diet.  Now.”  Natalie paused when she saw her friend’s cynical look.  “Besides my jeans would burst if I tried to eat.”  Natalie’s stomach growled loudly.  She shot a worried look at Claudia.  Her friend laughed so hard she snorted.  “That’s right, laugh.  Ha ha.  I’m starving.”

The car pulled into the parking lot of the bar & grill.  Claudia took pity on Natalie and offered her hand to help her get out of the car.  Natalie’s breathing was shallow due to her inability to take a deep breath.  She promised herself that she’d never ever eat another slice of pizza or have a piece of cheesecake again.

“Do I look fat, Claudia?”

“Sweetie, you look like your jeans are painted on you.  Don’t look now — here they come,” Claudia whispered.    Natalie’s dream guy approached with a smile just for her.

Her jeans were lucky.