tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63561668812561641832024-03-13T08:50:10.106-07:00A*MusingsThe Playground of My Writing
by Shelli Proffitt HowellsShellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.comBlogger173125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-66589035931427721502013-04-18T17:09:00.001-07:002013-04-18T17:09:09.470-07:00Moving!I've decided that I'm at the point in my career where I need a real website. So, you can now find me at <a href="http://www.shelliproffitthowells.com/">www.ShelliProffittHowells.com</a>.<br />
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I will continue blogging at <a href="http://shelliproffitthowells.com/amusings">http://shelliproffitthowells.com/amusings</a>.<br />
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Drop by and say "hi!"Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-47891611884947244072013-03-29T06:00:00.000-07:002013-03-29T10:04:35.635-07:00A Different Blue<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: white;"><strong style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: none; color: #505050; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21px;">Book Blurb:</strong><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span></span>
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</span><span style="font-family: Arial;">Blue Echohawk doesn't know who she is. She doesn't know her real name or when she was born. Abandoned at two and raised by a drifter, she didn't attend school until she was ten years old. At nineteen, when most kids her age are attending college or moving on in life, she is just a senior in high school. With no mother, no father, no faith, and no future, Blue Echohawk is a difficult student, to say the least. Tough, hard and sexy, she is the complete opposite of the young British teacher who decides he is up for the challenge, and takes the troublemaker under his wing. </span></span>
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</span> <span style="color: white;">This is the story of a nobody who becomes somebody. It is the story of an unlikely friendship, where hope fosters healing and redemption becomes love. But falling in love can be hard when you don't know who you are. Falling in love with someone who knows exactly who they are and exactly why they can't love you back might be impossible.</span></div>
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<span style="color: magenta;"><strong>Author Bio: </strong> </span>
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</span> <span style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18.1875px;">Amy Harmon knew at an early age that writing was something she wanted to do, so she divided her time between writing songs and stories as she grew. Having grown up in the middle of wheat fields without a television, with only her books and her siblings to entertain her, she developed a strong sense of what made a good story. Amy Harmon has been a motivational speaker, a grade school teacher, a junior high teacher, a home school mom, and a member of the Grammy Award winning Saints Unified Voices Choir, directed by Gladys Knight. She released a Christian Blues CD in 2007 called "What I Know" - also available on Amazon and wherever digital music is sold. She lives in the middle of nowhere with her husband and four kids, and doesn't plan to ever move somewhere, because nowhere is sublime. She has written<i> Running Barefoot, and </i>the Young Adult books <i>Slow Dance in Purgatory </i>and the sequel, <i>Prom Night in Purgatory. A Different Blue</i> is her fourth novel.<i> </i></span></span>
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/authoramyharmon">https://www.facebook.com/authoramyharmon</a></div>
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@aharmon_author</div>
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<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5829056.Amy_Harmon">goodreads</a></div>
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<span style="color: magenta; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18.1875px;"><b>Giveaway:</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: magenta;"><b>I love being creative with my chapter titles. If you've read any of my other books, you already know that! This book has titles that are all related to one word. It is not obvious, at least it wasn't to me! When you download the book, scroll through the chapter titles to figure out what each title has in common with the others. Once you think you've got it figured out, write your answer in a message. No one will be able to see anyone else's response. The winner, selected by rafflecopter, will get a beautiful necklace AND charm bracelet with charms that represent different elements in the book OR a $20 Amazon gift card, whichever the winner chooses, and a runner up will get the remaining prize</b>.</span>
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<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/55e1f389/" id="rc-55e1f389" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a>
<script src="//d12vno17mo87cx.cloudfront.net/embed/rafl/cptr.js"></script>Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-78228290648163108962013-02-08T09:58:00.001-08:002013-02-08T09:59:38.757-08:00Hemet Celebrity Look-AlikesLife gets a whole lot more interesting when you change your perspective.<br />
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The other day, I was waiting in the car while my husband bought groceries. A man who looked surprisingly like Michael Bolton walked by.<br />
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I thought, Huh. I wonder what other celebrities might be lurking in the Hemet Sprouts parking lot?<br />
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I was soon to find out.<br />
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I saw:<br />
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Victoria Jackson<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Victoria Jackson </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K7EKmwwlpqs/URU6SVU5kLI/AAAAAAAAAl0/tkE9tgd-D0w/s1600/john+madden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="126" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K7EKmwwlpqs/URU6SVU5kLI/AAAAAAAAAl0/tkE9tgd-D0w/s200/john+madden.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John Madden</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pat from SNL</td></tr>
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Pat from SNL<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shirley Temple</td></tr>
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or if Mama Cass and Shirley Temple had a baby<br />
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Emo Gabriel Byrne<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S4AhLqAlNTg/URU7SWgqJXI/AAAAAAAAAmU/TtYo_u-We5c/s1600/Gabriel+Byrne.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S4AhLqAlNTg/URU7SWgqJXI/AAAAAAAAAmU/TtYo_u-We5c/s200/Gabriel+Byrne.jpg" width="153" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gabriel Byrne</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tIoy9oDkytM/URU7gApM_BI/AAAAAAAAAmc/hbhuVsd021k/s1600/jessica-simpson-fat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tIoy9oDkytM/URU7gApM_BI/AAAAAAAAAmc/hbhuVsd021k/s200/jessica-simpson-fat.jpg" width="164" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jessica Simpson</td></tr>
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Jessica Simpson before Weight Watchers<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ocFo-TgAX68/URU7pV3eJXI/AAAAAAAAAmk/8a_A8kpCUfA/s1600/up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="173" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ocFo-TgAX68/URU7pV3eJXI/AAAAAAAAAmk/8a_A8kpCUfA/s200/up.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
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The old guy from UP<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZlsMplFuWLo/URU7zwt1nEI/AAAAAAAAAms/N0m4ayo2vdo/s1600/Babara-Streisand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZlsMplFuWLo/URU7zwt1nEI/AAAAAAAAAms/N0m4ayo2vdo/s320/Babara-Streisand.jpg" width="311" /></a><br />
and finally,<br />
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Barbara Streisand's nose</div>
Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-7710786594520049362013-02-04T13:21:00.000-08:002013-02-04T13:21:18.955-08:00I'm Published!My first article went live! Check it out here:<a href="http://bit.ly/XyDsTT"> "Having 'The Talk': discussing finances with your spouse."</a><br />
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Stay tuned for more!Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-89162944757878218062013-01-26T15:04:00.000-08:002013-01-26T15:04:29.436-08:00Exciting News!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NLOIcF5egzE/UQRgpGLtUMI/AAAAAAAAAlU/YwD-CGQYIuI/s1600/Field-of-Dreams-Team4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="146" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NLOIcF5egzE/UQRgpGLtUMI/AAAAAAAAAlU/YwD-CGQYIuI/s320/Field-of-Dreams-Team4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you build it, they will come.</td></tr>
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If you build it, they will come.<br />
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Or rather,<br />
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If you declare it, they will come. Opportunities, that is.<br />
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I declared 2013 "The Year of the Writer." I set my goals, put my butt in the chair, and started to make the motto my reality. And I have been wonderfully rewarded!<br />
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I received a notice this week that I was accepted as a freelance writer for the online site <a href="http://www.familyshare.com/">www.FamilyShare.com</a>. I had applied near the end of last year, but I hadn't heard anything for months. I figured either my application had been lost or I just wasn't a good fit for their program. Happily, I was wrong on both accounts.<br />
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I will be contributing 20 articles a month. That's about one per day, five days a week. I've finished and submitted my first article, and I'm now waiting for editing. I'm almost finished with a second, and have started a third.<br />
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I've already found a pattern for writing that seems to work well for me. I start the article in the afternoon. Then, I go to bed, thinking about problems with it or changes I want to make. I wake up and finish the article. Then, I'm ready to start the next one in the afternoon.<br />
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I believe this will help advance my writing. It will give me the opportunity to write <b>a lot</b>. Practice makes perfect! I'm sure to see an improvement in my writing that will spill over into my fiction. It gets my name out there and builds my resume. Being a paid writer is a little more prestigious than being one of so many aspiring writers.<br />
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I'm excited for this new stage in my writing journey!<br />
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What good news have you received lately?Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-47246062507053421712013-01-19T18:42:00.000-08:002013-01-19T18:43:01.069-08:0025 Words<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XGEXerA4OX8/UPtU8KGNI8I/AAAAAAAAAlE/60Q6ZPUWUgA/s1600/25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XGEXerA4OX8/UPtU8KGNI8I/AAAAAAAAAlE/60Q6ZPUWUgA/s320/25.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">25 Words</td></tr>
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2013: The Year of the Writer has officially hit its first bump in the road. Don't get me wrong, I didn't let writer's block get the best of me. I put my butt in the chair and added to my story every day. But some days, it sure felt like work.<br />
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Then, I heard about this great technique that I think will help me be more successful. Perhaps, ahem, 1000 words a day was a bit, shall we say, ambitious. Some parts of my story just aren't ready for 1000 words. Sometimes I need to take a step back and get a little more research done before I can make a scene work. <br />
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Like yesterday, for example. I needed to craft a knife fight. But, you see, I've never been in a knife fight. The closest I've been is watching my sons whittle with their pocket knives, or chiffonading spinach for an omelette with my chef's knife. I needed to learn a thing or two if I wanted to make it authentic.<br />
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Needless to say, it took me awhile to eke out my 500-word scene.<br />
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I decided I needed a more manageable goal. And a friend of mine came up with the perfect solution:<br />
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25 words.<br />
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Now there's a daily goal I can manage!<br />
<br />
It makes perfect sense. Twenty-five words is just enough to get your creative juices flowing. It's like a piece of chocolate or Lay's potato chips: you can't eat just one, you can't stop there, you have to keep going. And if not? Well, it's still an accomplishment. <br />
<br />
So what tricks do you use to jump-start your muse?Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-20362964002111132222013-01-11T16:44:00.001-08:002013-01-11T16:44:29.482-08:00Good Things, Good TimesLadies and Gentlemen, drum roll please........<br />
<br />
I have made it eleven days into the New Year with my resolutions intact!<br />
<br />
(pause for vociferous applause)<br />
<br />
Why thank you, thank you very much. *bows*<br />
<br />
It has been an exceptionally good week for me. I have been putting my "butt in the chair," and it is paying off. I have made some great progress on my current project, my second short story in the Freeborn series. <br />
<br />
You know, I was having some trouble with it at the beginning of the week, and I couldn't figure out what was wrong. Then, I was reading a book on editing, and the topic was point of view. It suddenly dawned on me that the fast pace of this story required a first person present point of view. I need Nick to tell me his story as it's happening. Once I stepped out of the way and gave him free rein, Nick completely took over. I found his voice, and my story is so much more interesting and entertaining. That Nick is pretty funny.<br />
<br />
My second victory came from my new online writing group. We met this week to choose a name. I groaned inside; I'm terrible at this sort of thing! I sat back and let the others brainstorm a few ideas, thinking that they were so much more clever than I. Then, someone mentioned the name Cyber Scrawlers, which I really liked. My brain took a walk, playing with the word "scrawl," and I thought "Scrawl Space." I typed it in, nervously, I have to admit. Well, they loved it! We voted unanimously to adopt "Scrawl Space" as the name for our group.<br />
<br />
Dang, I felt so proud of myself! And I really do believe The Universe was reinforcing my determination to make 2013 The Year of the Writer. I needed that small validation. I am a writer, and I am creative. The Universe said so.<br />
<br />
I've noticed that I have a tendency to do other writing exercises when I'm feeling blocked on my projects. So, I guess it's a good thing that I didn't really have time to do much blogging and exercises this week. I'll still dabble from time to time, just to keep me on my toes. <br />
<br />
So, how are you doing with your New Year's resolutions? Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-75250805770662829502013-01-08T17:45:00.003-08:002013-01-08T17:47:09.140-08:00Chocolate<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f1Q1n7fq9KI/UOzLqptWzBI/AAAAAAAAAk0/ax-XutDZHoM/s1600/sees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f1Q1n7fq9KI/UOzLqptWzBI/AAAAAAAAAk0/ax-XutDZHoM/s320/sees.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mmm, Chocolate</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br clear="all" />
<br />
I open the top of a brand new box of See's. Good quality
chocolate even smells different -- richer, deeper, not so cloyingly
sweet.<br />
<br />
I scan the varieties, looking for my favorites. I choose a round
dark chocolate with swirls on top: a pineapple truffle. I take a small bite
and let the sweetness melt in my mouth. I taste a slight kick of sour
mellowed by creaminess. I hold it for a moment on my tongue, then let
it slide slowly down my throat<br />
<br />
I take a second bite through the crunchy dark chocolate shell; more
eager now, I allow myself to chew. Only for a second, because it melts
away blissfully.<br />
<br />
I have one bite left, so I pop the last morsel into my mouth, knowing
I need to savor this one. Chocolate melds with lemon in perfect
harmony, and the flavor lingers even after I have swallowed. I run my
tongue over my teeth, across the roof of my mouth, teasing away every
last hint of chocolate.<br />
<br />
I put the lid back on the box and slide it under my bed. I think tomorrow I'll choose a butter cream.Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-74666550913615083662013-01-05T11:42:00.002-08:002013-01-05T11:42:19.693-08:0031 Simple PleasuresWriting exercise:<br />
<br />
Write down 31 simple pleasures. Each day, write about one pleasure for 5 minutes.<br />
<div id="entry_body">
<ol>
<li>chocolate</li>
<li>bird watching</li>
<li>sunshine on my face</li>
<li>swimming</li>
<li>foot rub</li>
<li>massage</li>
<li>sex</li>
<li>smelling flowers</li>
<li>bath</li>
<li>baking cookies</li>
<li>listening to the kids laugh</li>
<li>playing a video game</li>
<li>finger painting</li>
<li>listening to good music</li>
<li>yoga</li>
<li>meditating</li>
<li>watching a movie</li>
<li>reading a book</li>
<li>dancing in the rain</li>
<li>comedy club</li>
<li>taking a nap</li>
<li>dancing</li>
<li>doing a puzzle</li>
<li>cold water on a hot day</li>
<li>a long shower</li>
<li>hiking</li>
<li>watching stars</li>
<li>walking on the beach</li>
<li>finding seashells</li>
<li>opening presents</li>
<li>holding a baby</li>
</ol>
I really enjoyed making the list, because it reminded me of the simple pleasures in life. It was a little hard to come up with 31 of them. </div>
Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-35492871175796646462013-01-04T20:03:00.001-08:002013-01-04T20:03:16.700-08:00Fess Up FridayAh, it's always nice when you have nothing but good to confess, doesn't it?<br />
<br />
The Year of the Writer has started off with a bang. I've done my morning pages each morning, and I've certainly kept my butt in the chair. I've written at least 1,000 words a day, and the creative juices are flowing. I've gotten invaluable research done on my current project, and I'm ready to bust out the next few scenes. <br />
<br />
I'm happy.<br />
I'm excited.<br />
I'm a writer!Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-82677245554215713532013-01-01T10:25:00.000-08:002013-01-01T10:25:37.603-08:00The Year of the Writer<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ThB4whICF_I/UOMp4VDpXZI/AAAAAAAAAkY/ZMQwqRNTcTI/s1600/typing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ThB4whICF_I/UOMp4VDpXZI/AAAAAAAAAkY/ZMQwqRNTcTI/s400/typing.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2013: The Year of the Writer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Happy New Year all, and welcome 2013!<br />
<br />
I have decided that this will be The Year of the Writer.<br />
<br />
I will put my butt in the chair.<br />
<br />
I will work on projects old and new.<br />
<br />
I will write 1,000 words a day.<br />
<br />
And I'll invite you all along for the ride!Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-76715972054455909692012-10-10T12:08:00.000-07:002012-10-10T12:09:23.467-07:00The Blue ForestIt was autumn in the blue forest. The trees stood nearly bare, limbs outstretched like spindly arms trying to touch the sky. Crimson leaves carpeted the floor, a breeze occasionally lifting one to dance around the cobalt trunk of its most recent home. Quieter now, the chatter of summer long gone as squirrels found burrows and sparrows migrated south for warmer weather. Hungry wolves slunk silently through the shadows, looking for one last meal before laying down in the warmth of their den. Soon, skies would turn gray and snow would fall, smothering the colors in a blanket of white, and the blue forest would wait, on ice, until the spring thaw.<br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
I found<a href="http://www.ugallery.com/photography-a-walk-in-the-woods"> this picture today</a> on Pinterest (I don't want to post it on here for copyright reasons). It stuck with me, and I thought I just had to write about it.Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-42435786889466524462012-10-01T09:19:00.000-07:002012-10-01T09:19:55.876-07:00Freebie Alert!!! MythologyI'm a reader.<br />
<br />
I was the kid who holed up in her room reading all day. The one who stayed up until three in the morning to finish a book, even though I had a big test that day. And I'm the one who was so engrossed in a book in the library that the librarian had to literally walk to my table and put her hand on my shoulder to get my attention (the library was closing and she was trying to get out of there).<br />
<br />
But now I'm a writer, too.<br />
<br />
And that changes things somewhat. No longer can I just get lost in a good story. There are so many booby traps to pull me out of it now. Shouldn't there be an inciting incident here? Hey, that's a blatant deus machina! Can you please stop jumping in and out of all those characters' heads?<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1iCa9Dek2Zs/UGnB6gbieUI/AAAAAAAAAj8/aB39dtKLXEE/s1600/mythology-helen-boswell-paperback-cover-art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1iCa9Dek2Zs/UGnB6gbieUI/AAAAAAAAAj8/aB39dtKLXEE/s1600/mythology-helen-boswell-paperback-cover-art.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mythology by Helen Boswell</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Recently I read a book that appealed to both the reader and the writer in me.<br />
<br />
Mythology by Helen Boswell is a YA novel that, like Twilight, will appeal to audiences of all ages. Here is the description of it from Amazon:<br />
<br />
Hope Gentry doesn’t believe in Fate. Born with an unusual power to see
the dark memories of those around her, Hope just wants to be a normal
teenager. But on the first day of her senior year of high school, she
finds herself irresistibly drawn to a transfer student named Micah
Condie. At first glance, Micah seems like a boy that most girls would
dream about. But when Hope's powers allow her to discover Micah's
darkest secret, she quickly becomes entangled in the lives of mythical
entities she never dreamed existed<br />
<br />
What I loved about Mythology is that it has wonderful, engaging characters. Hope is a powerful female main character who makes a wonderful heroine. I love how Helen is able to show Hope's powers in a very visceral way. Hope is the one who pushes the action, making her own choices and moving the story forward.<br />
<br />
I'm thinking that Ms. Boswell must have read Save the Cat, because her story structure flows flawlessly. Inciting incident? Check. Increasing tension leading to an action-packed climax? Check. False victory? Oooh, good one, yes check! Deeply satisfying ending? Yep, check that off, too.<br />
<br />
Add to that a wonderful, distinctive voice and a masterful treatment of theme, and Mythology turns out to be an engaging page-turner of a novel.<br />
<br />
And here's the best part: Mythology is free! <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Mythology-Helen-Boswell/dp/1475210752/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1349107269&sr=8-1&keywords=mythology+boswell">You can purchase the Kindle version of Mythology for free </a>today (Monday, October 1, 2012) through Wednesday (October 3, 2012).<br />
<br />
I hope you enjoy Mythology as much as I did, and when you're done, please take time to leave a nice review on Amazon. Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-58335111416328972122012-09-28T16:56:00.003-07:002012-09-28T16:56:43.380-07:00MalpracticeThe orderly pushes me down the hall on the gurney, jogging as fast as protocol will allow. Twin doors swing open ahead of us like the gates of heaven to let us pass unhindered. He swerves to miss a nurse that absentmindedly crosses his path.<br /><br />"Move." <br /><br />She presses up against the wall as we brush past her.<br /><br />The orderly stops in front of a door where another nurse, this one dressed in surgical gear, is waiting. She takes over and wheels me into the room.<br /><br />I don't remember much about the accident, but judging from the amount of blood covering me, it must have been bad. A dull ache in my arm hints that it is probably broken. I can't move, so I think that I might have broken my neck or back or both as well.<br /><br />A masked surgeon waits at the head of the stainless steel table, scalpel in hand, and I look up into his eyes when I am transferred onto the slab. He looks like he knows what he's doing. I think I'm in good hands.<br /><br />A nurse pulls away what's left of my blouse, leaving my stomach and chest exposed. She swabs away the blood with wet cotton, and I catch the acrid smell of alcohol. I wait for the anesthesiologist to put the mask over my mouth and nose, anxious that the unendurable pain might finally end.<br /><br />The surgeon reaches forward and his scalpel pierces my skin as he deftly draws a line from the top of my sternum to my pelvis. I try to scream, but my mouth remains closed, immovable, and the only echo is inside my head. Tears seep out of my eyes. Can't he see the tears in my eyes?<br /><br />He's digging through my organs, pulling up my kidneys and they look so small in his hands. He lays one aside and with a snip severs the other. He turns to an orderly standing next to him, and I now see that the orderly is holding a cooler. The surgeon gently places my kidney in the corner, then returns to the forgotten one. A quick, burning snip and it, too, joins its partner.<br /><br />The orderly races off as the doctor returns his attention to me. One by one, he harvests my liver, my lungs, and something I don't even recognize. Now he's wielding a saw, cutting through my sternum, bone dust wafting in the air. He slowly spreads the two halves and secures them with a retractor. I feel like I am being torn apart.<br /><br />"Lara. Come with me."<br /><br />I don't know how, because my neck won't move, but I look over my shoulder to see Papa there. I remember him giving me piggy back rides and sneaking me soda pop before dinner. But that was a long, long time ago.<br /><br />"But I'm not dead yet." I look back to the surgeon who now has my beating heart in his hands.<br /><br />"I know," he says. "But you will be."<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Today's prompt: Write about your greatest fear.Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-86760599721787840282012-09-19T13:36:00.000-07:002012-09-19T13:36:14.265-07:00As Yellow As...A pirate's parrot? A Yankee traitor? A blazing sun?<br />
<br />
Today's exercise takes the last lesson on similes and metaphors a little further. In poetry, as in all effective writing, you want to use descriptions that utilize all the senses: sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell. It creates more interest, and it gives you more tools in your arsenal. It makes your writing richer and more expressive.<br />
<br />
So, your assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to take your favorite food and describe it using each of the five senses and using similes and metaphors.<br />
<br />
Example:<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VMwVeaXUvOU/UFosiqpSODI/AAAAAAAAAjs/SZoBfk3V1Uw/s1600/orange.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="156" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VMwVeaXUvOU/UFosiqpSODI/AAAAAAAAAjs/SZoBfk3V1Uw/s200/orange.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Orange like a...</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
An orange is...<br />
Orange like a fiery sun<br />
Bumpy like a toad<br />
Hissing like a deflating balloon<br />
Sour like an old maid<br />
Fruity like a bottle of old wine.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
OK, now it's your turn. Take a peek in your fridge if you need inspiration. Share your efforts in the comments.Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-45330443988554851832012-09-14T16:42:00.000-07:002012-09-14T16:42:11.459-07:00An Unexpected Storm
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Lena had always loved the rain.
Showers at any time were an invitation to kick off her shoes, run
outside, and dance.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
So she didn't try to escape the sudden,
torrential downpour, though lightning lit the black sky and thunder
shook her bones. She stood perfectly still until her t-shirt was
drenched and her shivering could have been from the cold.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The rain washed the blood from her
legs, washed his stink from her skin, and when she opened her mouth
to catch a few drops on her tongue, it washed away his taste.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
She wished it would rain forever. </div>
Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-69869131002972003842012-07-17T16:14:00.002-07:002012-07-17T16:15:15.072-07:00Similes and MetaphorsHello!... (hello)... (hello)...<br />
<br />
*crickets* <br />
<br />
My apologies for neglecting my poor blog for so long. Health and other issues had me rather sidetracked for awhile. The writer in me has NOT been happy. I've decided I must give my writing a lot more attention.<br />
<br />
Yesterday I wrote a poem. For the first time in over a decade. It wasn't great, but it wasn't that bad, either. I had a friend ask to read it, and he was very complimentary. He then asked if I would help him learn to write poetry. My first thought was, whoa, you don't learn how to write poetry -- you just do it! But then I realized there are some tips and exercises that could be helpful in awakening your inner poet.<br />
<br />
So, I agreed to help him out, and I thought this would be a great place for me to do it. If you'd like to join in the creative writing fun, please feel free to jump in! Any comments and suggestions are of course welcome.<br />
<br />
When searching the internet for ideas on how to proceed, I found a lot of information on structure, meter, rhyme schemes, and the different types of poems. It sounded good, if you were looking for nuts and bolts information. But to me, poetry is about finding the exact right voice to put your emotions into words. Before you start to look at mechanics, I think you need to learn the language of poetry.<br />
<br />
Poetry uses a lot of symbolism and imagery. You say one thing when you really mean another. The easiest way to do that is to use similes and metaphors.<br />
<br />
Both similes and metaphors are used to compare two like things. A simile uses the words "like" and "as" to make the comparison. A metaphor makes the comparison by stating something "is" the other thing.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SGDt7UTMAl8/UAXuaQMuH_I/AAAAAAAAAjA/j0_u2_cDa3A/s1600/metaphor+simile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SGDt7UTMAl8/UAXuaQMuH_I/AAAAAAAAAjA/j0_u2_cDa3A/s320/metaphor+simile.jpg" width="244" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wSoo3hnBZXU/UAXugeDTuwI/AAAAAAAAAjI/TbvmUpMKXss/s1600/sim-and-met.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wSoo3hnBZXU/UAXugeDTuwI/AAAAAAAAAjI/TbvmUpMKXss/s320/sim-and-met.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The trick to effective creative writing is choosing a simile or metaphor that is not cliche -- not overused or obvious. When trying to find the right comparison, the first thing that pops into your head is not likely to be the best or most expressive. Dig deeper, brain storm a little bit, write down everything that comes into your mind. Your best simile or metaphor is probably going to be your third, fourth, or even fifth choice.<br />
<br />
For example, when I say, "It was as dark as..."<br />
<br />
What do you automatically think of? I bet you thought "night," didn't you? I did. However, in one creative writing class, a young girl came up with "dark as a secret." Oooh, how good is that? I love the feeling it elicits. There is nothing darker than my secrets.<br />
<br />
So, here's a little practice for you. I'm going to write a series of adjectives, and I'd like you to come up with your best similes and metaphors. Leave them in the comments section. And if I don't get very many participants, then it's my own dang fault for neglecting my blog for so long.<br />
<br />
Red<br />
<br />
Round<br />
<br />
Flat<br />
<br />
Light<br />
<br />
Funny<br />
<br />
Bumpy<br />
<br />
Smooth<br />
<br />
Blue <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DACBZ8TDE9I/UAXxy0VKOlI/AAAAAAAAAjU/U-OOzj0ejbA/s1600/simile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DACBZ8TDE9I/UAXxy0VKOlI/AAAAAAAAAjU/U-OOzj0ejbA/s1600/simile.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-87678193646684099872011-09-30T19:45:00.000-07:002011-09-30T19:45:58.607-07:00Cleave Trailer (The Swan)Angela Felsted entrances me with her incredible poetry on her blog, <a href="http://my-poetry-place.blogspot.com/">My Poetry and Prose Place</a>. Now, she is getting ready to launch her poetry chapter book called "Cleave." Here is the trailer for her book.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Iv3WGGA46YU?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
A link to pre-order "Cleave" is on her blog.Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-82881135936158334812011-09-30T13:27:00.000-07:002011-09-30T13:27:52.313-07:00Winning!Woot, woot! Well, I can never say I never win anything anymore. Remember that blog contest on Wednesday? Yep, I won a Kindle Touch from the fabulous K.M. Weiland! I'm so excited!<br />
<br />
And I've been reading her book, <i>Outlining Your Novel</i>, and it is fantastic. Exactly what I needed to get me past the hump I hit while working on my WIP. That's easily worth as much as the prize!Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-59624141334395919192011-09-28T10:33:00.000-07:002011-09-28T10:33:33.983-07:00Blog Contest!!!The fabulous K.M. Weiland has just released her latest book, <i>Outlining Your Novel.</i> As an avid fan of Ms. Weiland, I'm excited that she's willing to share the secrets of her success with us. I can't wait to jump in and read this book. To celebrate, she is holding an amazing contest with fabulous prizes. Visit her blog, <a href="http://wordplay-kmweiland.blogspot.com/2010/09/win-kindle-and-over-100-in-writing.html">Wordplay, here</a> to find out more.Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-54867238367763263822011-09-23T08:59:00.000-07:002011-09-23T08:59:17.115-07:00June Gloom<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Another gray day. The sky darkened with low-hanging clouds, but no rain, no lightning to break the monotony of the gray. There was a heaviness in the air that settled into Tammy's bones. She sat in the big armchair, Springer squawking from the T.V., a wine glass in one hand and a near-empty bottle in the other.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">She'd lost count of how many days she'd sat like this. Her cat, Mixen, jumped up into her lap and rubbed his head against Tammy's arm. She must've remembered to feed the cat; otherwise he'd be whining and spitting at her. Well, at least that was one thing she could do right. Tammy pushed the mewling ball of fur onto the floor.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I should do something, she thought. Something. Grab a bite to eat. Take a shower. Maybe a little yoga. She could use a few endorphins. She peered into the smoky bottle, watched the red liquid swirl around and up the sides. Maybe there were a few more endorphins in there. She replenished her glass. At least she was using a glass. That was the difference between being drunk and being a drunk.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">She threw her head back and chugged the remaining wine. Then she put down the glass and the bottle and stood up. She stepped over the piles of dirty dishes and clothes that littered the floor. She grabbed her purse and set of keys and went outside, not bothering to lock the door behind her.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">She knew she shouldn't be driving, so she took the side streets and drove at a crawl. Kids would be at school. Safe. Safe from her. The rest? Well, more people died from car accidents than anything else. They knew they were taking their chances when they ventured out that day.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">She arrived at her destination without incident and parked a little too far away from the curb. She slipped off her sandals, leaving them on the floor of the car. She popped the trunk. She dropped her keys in her purse, then threw it into the trunk before bringing the lid down with a snap.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The wind whipped at her hair, raising goosebumps on her arms, and she tasted salt when she licked her suddenly dry lips. The sand felt soft and tickled her bare feet. She walked toward the angry, pounding waves, the roar in her ears growing.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">She walked into the water and felt the icy waves lap around her ankles, splashing up against her calves, making her jeans cling heavily to her legs. She braced herself and pushed out further, turned her back against the breakers so they sprayed her back and drenched her hair. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">When she was waist deep, she dove under a huge, threatening wave, and felt the undulations as the water frothed above her. It was a soft, rocking motion, and maybe it was just then, at that very moment, that she truly decided to go through with it. She wanted to be rocked in the ocean.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">She began swimming away from the shore with strong strokes. She was a good swimmer. She'd be able to get pretty far. But she wasn't a great swimmer. She counted on that.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">*****</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> </div>Today's prompt: Weave a story which uses this cliche – “Drown your sorrows."<br />
To play along, visit <a href="http://wa.emergent-publishing.com/">Write Anything's [Fiction] Friday. </a>Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-71198816051865243332011-09-02T13:04:00.000-07:002011-09-02T13:04:49.619-07:00The Perfect World“Once upon a time, there was a perfect world. In this world, every baby born was wanted, celebrated as a blessing not a burden. Mothers held their newborns in their arms, close to their heart, while fathers stood nearby looking so, so proud. They dreamed great things for their children and promised everything to make their dreams come true.<br />
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“The perfect world was beautiful, but not because it was perfect. Muddy brown birds with speckles, bright colored birds, singers and squawkers, all of them were beautiful. And every flower was welcome in the garden. Can you believe people used to call some flowers weeds?<br />
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“And people were beautiful, too, not because they were all the same, but because other people looked for and knew how to find what made them so.<br />
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“Everyone in the perfect world had a soul mate. Sometimes it was a brother, or a best friend. And sometimes, people fell in love with their soul mate, and they lived together for the rest of their lives.<br />
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“And that's what made the perfect world beautiful.”<br />
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***** <br />
<br />
Today's prompt:<br />
Write a scene using purely dialogue. Nothing else is allowed ( no attributions, narration, description, scene setting etc).<br />
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This is from a previously written scene. I just cut out everything in between the dialogue. It's a rough draft and unedited, so it still follows the rules. :) To play along, <a href="http://wa.emergent-publishing.com/2011/09/fiction-friday-challenge-223/">visit Write Anything's [Fiction] Friday. </a>Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-88374314770255712392011-08-26T09:51:00.000-07:002011-08-26T09:51:53.332-07:00No Good Deed...The gray, stooped man stood at the corner of the intersection. His mahogany cane with the ivory handle trembled in his hands as he reached out as if to enter the crosswalk. He pulled back as a car whizzed by uncomfortably close. He peered back and forth, trying to catch the eye of one of the drivers to see if they'd let him cross. Heads turned away from him and seemed not to notice he was there.<br />
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A cluster of teen boys approached, laughing and talking a little too loudly. A boy in a red t-shirt and backwards baseball cap pushed the shortest of his friends who yelled as he reeled close to the passing traffic. The short boy retaliated with a punch to the shoulder.<br />
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The old man looked desperately for a path across the street before the boys could arrive. Finding none, he shrunk back, away from the road and into the corner under the shade of a tree.<br />
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The boys seemed too occupied to notice him, and the old man breathed a sigh of relief. The small sound caught the attention of one of the boys. Taller than the rest, he had the awkwardness of his age. He was quieter than the others, too. The old man sucked in his breath and waited.<br />
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The kid smiled and shuffled over to him.<br />
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"Do you need to cross?"<br />
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The old man nodded his head. The boy stepped into the cross walk and beckoned to the gentleman when the traffic paused for him. The boy's friends bounded across the street quickly and walked on, not noticing that he lingered behind them. The old man shuffled as quickly as he could, the teen walking in a slow saunter next to him until they reached the other side.<br />
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"See ya, dude." The kid started to jog to catch up with his friends.<br />
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"Wait." The young man stopped, then looked around with knitted brows. In place of the old man stood a tall, dark-haired man in jeans. The cane in his hand had been replaced with a gnarly, twisted wand. The man approached the boy.<br />
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"Don't look so surprised. You know that there are magical creatures that walk amongst us."<br />
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The boy's eyes widened, and the man chuckled.<br />
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"Look, I appreciate that you helped me out. I'd like to give you a wish."<br />
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"A wish?"<br />
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"Sure, anything you want." The man waited, wondering, trying to guess the wish based on the little bit he knew about this boy. Would he ask for world peace? Or a million dollars? Maybe just a new game system, he thought with a wry smile.<br />
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The boy shrugged.<br />
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"OK. I want a fish."<br />
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"Excuse me?" The man didn't think he'd heard him properly. The boy flashed him a sheepish grin.<br />
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"Yeah, well, I've always wanted a pet, but our landlord wouldn't allow it. We live in a small apartment. I don't think he'd mind if I had a fish."<br />
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The man shook his head incredulously. He nodded, then turned on his heel and walked wordlessly away. When the boy arrived home, he'd find a new aquarium on his desk with coral, wavy green plants, and a few exotic fish swimming around. The man decided he'd throw in a year's supply of fish food, although that was technically against the rules, since the boy didn't officially wish for it.<br />
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But hey, he liked the kid.<br />
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*****<br />
<br />
Wow. I am really rusty! The inner editor was going crazy as I wrote this one. Still, it feels good to get back into Fiction Friday again.<br />
<br />
Today's prompt: Use the images on the dice for inspiration. The images were a cane, a magic wand, and a fish. <br />
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To play along, visit Write Anything's Fiction Friday <a href="http://wa.emergent-publishing.com/writing-prompts/">at their new website here</a>.Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-45133119210256142602011-06-27T09:14:00.000-07:002011-06-27T09:14:40.231-07:00Lazy Days of SummerAll right, I'll just make it official and say I'm taking a sabbatical for the summer. That's better than neglecting my blog and having that nagging feeling of guilt, right? Instead, I'm giving in to the siren call of a crisp, cool pool on a steamy hot day, the 500-piece puzzle strewn on my coffee table, and of course, the story that is itching to find its way onto paper.Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6356166881256164183.post-47211340853264688442011-06-08T10:41:00.000-07:002011-06-08T10:41:41.046-07:00It Is What It Chooses to BeFunny how I like to think I'm in control of things. Take this novel I'm working on, for example. I did a little plotting for a change. I won't say I went as far as putting together an outline, but I knew where I wanted to go. My main story happens on a small island off the coast of Africa. A romance, a washed-up castaway that throws a wrench in the story, and an attempted assassination that sends my MC back home.<br />
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But then I started writing the beginning of my story. You know, the first 25%, the set-up. And I found myself adding certain details I hadn't intended. And I thought, shoot, that's pretty good, but if it's in the first couple of chapters in a novel, it's a promise to the reader. You just told them that these things are important. That you'll explore them further, that your audience will get to learn more. How in the world am I going to do that? Sure, I saw possibilities, but it veered so very far away from my little island off the coast of Africa.<br />
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It hit me last night. My novel has decided to become a series. I never would have expected myself capable of writing a series. I have an idea, and I follow it through to the end. But here I have four individual stories waiting to be told, all tied together with an overarching main concept. WTF (let's choose "fudge" this time; I'd never say that other word)? How did that happen?<br />
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So, here are my four stories: a young boy with unusual powers who becomes a test subject at a laboratory built in a renovated slave plantation; that same boy who grows up to become an assassin; and then goes to work for Doctors Without Borders on a remote island; and finally comes home and initiates the end of the world.<br />
<br />
Tada!Shellihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03068094486297918345noreply@blogger.com8