Forward, forward, forward.
Always.
Can’t look back; can’t look now.
Forward, forward, forward.
Always. Continue reading
Writing
The Bright Side of Banishment
(Image taken from https://www.pathwaystogod.org/my-prayer-life/daily-offering/offering-those-who-wander2018)
The prompt was “conversation.” I took it a bit further and made a short story entirely out of dialogue because dialogue is my jam.
“You know, this could be worse.”
“Oddsballs, Lawrence! We’re scheduled to be banished. Forever. How could it possibly be worse?”
“Well, I mean, we could have been killed, so….”
“Yes, being taken away from our country, never to see our friends and family again, is much better. I feel so much more optimistic now.”
Pygmalion
(Image taken from: https://www.ecarenphoto.com/Fine-Art/Pygmalion-And-Galatea/5)
(On thirdcoastwriters.wordpress.com, our theme was to rewrite myths….I’m terribly late with my post and not completely satisfied with the end result, but here it is, nevertheless…)
As soon as I finished her, I knew I had created a masterpiece.
She was perfect. From her long, softly braided hair to the tips of her rounded toes, she was wonderfully proportioned and lovely to behold.
Years of inhaling marble dust and whittling away until my fingers ached and here she was – the best that I could have hoped for. Better, even.
Graveyard Gazing
(The prompt was “tradition” this time around).
It was that time of year again.
The time to drag all the members of the household to the local graveyard and stare at the sky.
Andrin hated this tradition.
For one thing, it was freakin’ cold.
For another, it was a freakin’ graveyard.
And for the last, freakin’ Alina always hogged the freakin’ blankets.
But there was nothing for it. November 1st had come and by golly, the parental units were committed.
How to Write a Rom-Com
The theme was rom-com…one of my least favorite genres….and all I can say is, it started out fluffy? #sorrynotsorry
First comes the meet cute,
Boy meets girl or girl meets boy
Or boy meets dog or…no, wait a minute…
Wrong story.
Anyway, they meet. Words are exchanged,
A few flirtations, some warming of the cheeks.
She of the long, luscious hair and he
Of the strong jawline. Continue reading
But for Lack of Evidence…
Our theme at the the Third Coast Writers’ blog this month was Halloween/ghost stories. I can’t write scary to save my life, so here’s my offering instead:
Frederick Crimweather Larkin was not scary.
And that was okay. Many people aren’t scary and they get through life just fine.
But that was the problem.
Frederick wasn’t a people.
Frederick was a ghost.
The End of NaNoWriMo
I did not post last month….I had a vague thought of doing so….but I was running away from that beast: NaNoWriMo.
And guess what? I got away! Glory hallelujah, it is over! So I thought I’d recap my experience during the month of November with quips, anecdotes, and gifs.
For the Love of a Sandwich
In honor of this creepy holiday, here’s a “spooky” short story I wrote a few years ago. 🙂
The Crumptons were your average, happy family with one boy, one girl, three dogs, a ferret, and a toad named Phillipo. They lived in a charming two story house, complete with a delightful brick fireplace. The father would work, the mother would teach her children, and the animals would wreck good-natured havoc throughout the day. They lived by routine, right down to the very sandwiches they ate for lunch, which, of course, always consisted of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
The Month of Horrors (And No, I don’t mean October)
It is almost that time of the year again. That time where I feel like Marius up there. That time where I abandon sanity and structure (more so than usual, at least) and attempt to write 50,000 words in a month. Yep, it’s National Novel Writing Month.
Riven
(Image taken from: http://fm.cnbc.com/applications/cnbc.com/resources/img/editorial/2014/09/17/102010093-torn-family.1910×1000.jpg)
The door was open.
I hesitated halfway down the staircase, looking into the yawning cavern. Mom kept the door shut because you could see right into the room.
Soft reminders echoed in my ears.
“Close the door. I don’t want to see.”
“Close the door. I don’t want the reminder.”
“Close the door….just….close the door.”
ali oleary 