tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10026807848865248812024-03-14T00:51:59.992-07:00BOOK LOVERdolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.comBlogger151125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-33776090893463031872023-08-17T02:40:00.000-07:002023-08-17T02:40:37.890-07:00WEP August Challenge: Choclat<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Hello All.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">When I decided to write a post for Write Edit Publish August flash fiction challenge titled Chocolat, I didn't realize what a real challenge this was going to be for me. I forgot to write it over the weekend, so I've been at this for the last three days on the road. With my Samsung Galaxy tablet. No mouse, no keyboard, no works program. I wrote it on my work computer, glanced at the word count, somehow copied and emailed it to myself, and figured out how to copy it here. No small feat for someone still attached to a mouse. Not sure I can post the required links to the host blog here, so refer to my sidebar links to WEP Challenges.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">When I started writing this I had a different direction for the story of prejudice to take. Prejudice is my interpretation of the movie prompt. Then I fell down a rabbit hole of research that led me to Romania (I was looking for gypsies) and discovered the Iron Guard instead. As I read this for a final proofing before I hit publish, I'm nearly shocked at the potentially offensive content. It's the first time I've read the story in its entirety. Well, too late to back out now.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">I hope you're not too offended, and I really hope it meets the basic concept of the prompt. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Title: Guarding The Chocolate</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Word count: less than 1000</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Full critique acceptable </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">In 1952, Anita Fontain was 22. Her journey to the US, to Iowa in particular, began at her father's knee as she grew into adolescence in Fascist controlled Romania.<u></u><u></u></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u> As he relayed to his daughter throughout her childhood, Anri Fontain had migrated to France to become a member of the French Foreign Legionnaires. As an orphaned 15 year old with little education and less ambition for the labor intensive Railroad or River boat industries of Davenport, Iowa he’d become infatuated with newspaper tales of adventure, romance and of course, riches to be had fighting for the French interests in the Sahara Desert. His parents, and grandparents, were proud of their French military lineage dating back to the French occupation of Saint – Domingue, and Anri had visions of military glory.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u> Adventure and romance he’d had, but the riches from war campaigns in Africa and Madagascar never fell into his lap. He’d learned French from his father while growing up, and had become fluent in several languages, including Algerian and German, and was happy enough to be transferred to Romania in 1926 to infiltrate a group of disgruntled Legionaires calling themselves the Leigon of the Archangel Michael. Over the next couple years, Anri immersed himself in the paramilitaryy group’s Orthoodox Christian mysticism, unpopular anti-semetiic, anti-communist views, and abandoned the modern thinking Legionnaires. By 1930 when the Legion had changed its name to the Iron Guard, Anri had become a prominent member of the organization, had married well, and fathered his requisite two children – a boy named Cordrea, named after Anri’s mentor, and Anita, a family name in her mother’s heritage.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u>Of less importance to the Iron Guard’s cause than her older brother, Anita was allowed the indulgence of education, though her father often remonstrated on the folly of the Intellegencia. Anita learned the art of chocolate making from her mother during the family’s exile in Germany, and later earned a culinary degree in the fine art of pastry making. Although Fascism had fallen out of favor with the end of the second world war, Anita’s father and brother maintained military and political ties to the Party. Their Nazi benefactors kept them informed, armed, and financially sufficient. When the Party secretly issued the recall of the displaced Iron Guard to return to Romania in 1947, Anri and Cordrea were well equipped to return to their prior life.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u> Anita and her mother had remained in Germany until her college graduation. Without the constant barrage of propaganda and limited social connections allowed by her father during the Iron Guards ascendency to power in Romania, Anita found herself increasingly open to the rising tide of remorse within the German population. The more she learned about the “atrocities” committed by her family’s political associations, the less sure of herself, and her place in the larger world, she became.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u> In Romania, even as young as 13, she was a gregarious creature, always the center of attention. Parents thrust their children into her life for companions, and many a time she overheard conversations involving marriage between either mother and her society ladies, or her father’s smoking gentlemen. At the time it had pleased her to be so well liked and desired. Her mother had instilled in Anita a sense of pride for their family position, and the obligations that carried, even to the appropriate marriage for both Anita and Cordrea. Cordrea only had aspirations for war and violence; but Anita had her favorites among her potential suiters. She practiced writing her name and title, dreaming of her future children and hosting her own society ladies parties.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u> She was destined to be a socialite, and until her time in Germany, she was blissfully unaware of the darkness surrounding her sheltered life. And she wondered: did her mother know of the nefarious activities of her husband? Did she approve?</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u> So Anita immersed herself in the world of chocolate, avoiding the growing tensions in her family, in world politics, and the increasing amount of bullying she’d started receiving since her father’s return to Romania. Even her mother had become more secluded, eschewing the company of her new German acquaintances in favor of the familiar refugee wives who had journeyed with them to this divided country. Gone were the animated conversations of marriage alliances, of gay spring parties and summer vacations to Switzerland. They spoke in whispers now especially in public, often reverting to French or English to avoid the scrutiny of authorities that their native Romanian language attracted.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u> The news of her father’s murder and brother’s disappearance during a political coupe just weeks prior to her graduation was devastating, but not surprising. And came as almost a relief to Anita. She couldn’t imagine returning to Romania now, but also didn’t fancy remaining in Germany. Her father’s friends had discouraged them from returning for the clandestine funeral, and now her mother had begun wearing a green shirt in her mourning. The apparel was drawing too much attention from their German benefactors, whose continued financial support had begun to wan in the last couple years.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u> Grasping the reins of an uncertain future, Anita decided to take her culinary talents to America. It took a year to secure immigration to Iowa, the birthplace of her father. Davenport reminded her Bucharest with its heavy French heritage and Catholic Orthodoxy. She was comfortable in their anonymity almost from their first day. Her mother’s strange habit of wearing bags of earth around her neck and the green shirts did not cause the stir it had in Germany. She felt no hatred here, only curiosity.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u> “Chocolate,” she asked brightly to a group of young passerby’s at her booth.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u> She was determined to make her fortune in this new world, one bite at a time, as she perfected her own divine recipe that would dislodge the dominant Fudge fanatasicm in this city once and for all. Her father would disapprove of her capitalist dreams; but, hadn’t the life he’d made for his family been rich with oppressive hipocracy?</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><u></u> </p>dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-24688647271656150422023-02-15T03:10:00.000-08:002023-02-15T03:10:18.883-08:00WEP - Gone With The Wind<p> Hello;</p><p>Yeah, its been about 2 years. Had a lot going on in my personal life. And, I'm using a Samsung Galaxy 10 tablet to pack with me on my trips, and I've discovered it doesn't like to do anything but play games. And pay bills. And I'm posting this - late of course -from a motel room that doesn't like to have plug outlets next to the desk. So I hope I can get this post going.</p><p>Yeah, yeah. Excuses . . .</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwJ6qMdYmkuZwQxKNKEKdTcK9iJEsKRfR8sikRbPy4Hn4YbN1F06DTvpFMNVNI3MWi3xlxgNMEfGwraWprtbQMhHWVmwfQlFhO794Q0VlXRSUQZnCRsAtw_9wXzLx6UT6Kamb_gxpp6y77-GI-QtP0_z_VwIpCG5L527o5S4eBR5wRfMIzdSDRmi7EuA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="213" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwJ6qMdYmkuZwQxKNKEKdTcK9iJEsKRfR8sikRbPy4Hn4YbN1F06DTvpFMNVNI3MWi3xlxgNMEfGwraWprtbQMhHWVmwfQlFhO794Q0VlXRSUQZnCRsAtw_9wXzLx6UT6Kamb_gxpp6y77-GI-QtP0_z_VwIpCG5L527o5S4eBR5wRfMIzdSDRmi7EuA" width="160" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p>I've decided to post a segment for WEP (Write, Edit, Publish) bi-monthly blogfest. This first post of 2023 is titled <a href="https://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/2023/01/wep-february-challenge-gone-with-wind.html" target="_blank">GONE WITH THE WIND</a>. Since its February, Valentines, I'm assuming it should be a romance. But, I'm just not there in my mind. So I've taken a different interpretation, and focused on the "Gone" concept. After all, the overall theme of the book/movie is about Loss. Loss of culture, loss of life, loss of dreams. Loss of family.</p><p>Anyway, here goes. Full critique acceptable. This is a one-and-done, not part of a larger work.</p><p>GONE</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I want to talk to Dad.”</p><p>“Why, you got something broken at the house?” My daughter never talks to her step dad without something broken at the house and needing fixed. And, Dad. Real trouble.</p><p>“Something like that.” And her voice sounded quaverly, hurt.</p><p>“What’s up Lori? What’s wrong, really.”</p><p>Desperation. “Just let me talk to Don.”</p><p>Usually he’d already be out on the tractor or sanding that dead jeep in the garage. But he was moving slow this morning so he was still in the house. He looked frustrated when I tried to hand him my phone.</p><p>“Why didn’t she call my phone?”</p><p>“You never carry it on you. She sounds stressed, just talk to her an tell me whats up.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Then silence. “Uhm, yeah.” More silence, with sidelong glances at me. Then he turned his back on me. “Ok.” Then he hung up and handed me back the phone.</p><p>“Ok. So what’s up.”</p><p>“Not sure yet. She’ll call again later.” Then he sat next to me on the couch, reached across and tenderly held my hand.</p><p>He’s a loving man, but not in an affectionate way. He won’t look at me. I squeeze his hand and stare at him until he looks at me. I’m not affectionate either. I can tell its bad. Really bad was nine months earlier when my middle son shot himself. Nothing else can be that bad. Can it?</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Not sure yet.”</p><p>The phone rings and I let his hand go. Its Robert’s best friend. I didn’t even know he had my phone number, but I’m not really surprised. That psychic mommy-vibe has been pinging all morning. Kinda woke me up early for a Sunday.</p><p>“Whats wrong Zack?”</p><p>“Hey Mom.” All my kids’ friends call me Mom. At least the ones that have been hanging out since grade school. Zack is new to the group, only been around five or six years, but he hangs with Roberts long term friends so just fell into the habit with the rest of them.</p><p>“Fu—ing whats up Zack.”</p><p>“Ha, probably nothing. Hey, I can’t find Robert. He’s not answering his phone. Jenna is freaking out because she lost contact during a phone chat this morning.”</p><p>Of course he was texting and driving. Its barely after 9a. “So, how early were they talking.”</p><p>“Well, not talking exactly. She was sleeping, but he sent her a bunch of songs. Love songs, haha. She didn’t get the messenger pings until about an hour ago and the last message cut off mid sentence. He’s not answering, so she called me.”</p><p>I don’t hear well on the phone, so I have it on speaker. Oddly, my husband isn’t staring at me with a look that says “get a hearing aid so I don’t have to listen.”</p><p>“Do you know where he is.” Stupid question, I know, but I’ve already hit the home button and clicked on Life 360 to see where my son is.</p><p>“Well, that’s why I called you. Lori doesn’t know either – sorry I woke her up. And the baby.”</p><p>“He’s somewhere in Yuba City. Weird. Not really sure where he is. Been there since about 5:32 am. Who lives in Yuba City?”</p><p>Silence. My hubby is looking at me now. Hope in his expression.</p><p>“Uhm. Nobody. I don’t think.” </p><p>Zack would know everyone Robert knows. But, since his brother’s suicide, Robert has been drinking himself into a grave, and not all his friends have been willing to follow him down that self destructive hole. Zack is a recovering addict and won’t go everywhere with his best friend in an effort to keep visitation with his seven year old daughter. Zack hasn’t abandoned Robert, but some of his choices have left Zack behind.</p><p>“When was the last time you saw Robert?” I asked, trying to be delicate.</p><p>“Yesterday. Well, I talked to him on the phone after he left for Sac. He was going to a Rave with some buddies of ours. I couldn’t go, had plans with my daughter.”</p><p>“Sure,” I say, proud of Zack despite my growing concern for my son.</p><p>“Anyway, people are looking for him on Facebook, and I’m getting worried.”</p><p>“I haven’t heard anything,” I said, catching my husbands eyes. He didn’t look away. “I’ll call Lori and see if she knows anything.”</p><p>“I called her before I called you. Said her phone was blowing up.”</p><p>“Yes, I know.” I’m trying not to sound angry. Anger is better than fear. Isn’t it?</p><p>“Look, Mom –“</p><p>“I’ll call you when I find him Zack. You do the same, Ok?”</p><p>I hung up and pulled up my Facebook account. I’m not friends with many of Roberts clan, but I might see something. “What did Lori want to talk to you about?”</p><p>“Well,” My hubby said. Thinking a minute. “She thinks Robert may have been in an accident. His phone hasn’t moved since about 5:32 this morning, and people are calling her because they are worried.”</p><p>Just then I clicked on a Newsbreak link Jenna posted with question marks after Robert’s name and asking for info. There was lots of comments telling how he left the Rave. I couldn’t read all the comments because I’m not friends with all his friends. But everything I saw had links to the Newsbreak with updates on the vehicle accident that took a 32 year old Oroville man’s life at 5:32am in Yuba City.</p><p>A car pulled up to the gate just as my youngest son crashed through the front door. He lives in a travel trailer on the property. He didn’t even have his shoes on. “Lori called?”</p><p>“Yes, and Zack,” my hubby said.</p><p>“Zack’s here. We’re going to Robert’s last Life 360 GPS.” He ran out the door, kicking the dog and his ball out of his way.</p><p>Four hours later a Sheriffs patrol car pulled through the open gate. It was open because I already knew. Face book told me my son was gone.</p><p>word count: 1000</p><p><br /></p>
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/vkUzCuwAPvM" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe>
dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-38267269902971338652021-07-07T03:00:00.001-07:002021-07-07T03:00:00.223-07:00IWSG: Reasons to Quit<p> Hello.</p><p>Hello Bloggers!</p><p>Nice to see you again. I've been absent from the blogging world for several months and have dropped off EVERYONE's lists. I think I should be more devastated by this than I am. Afterall, I've been blogging since 2009. Like, a lifetime almost, lol.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tuoebqeIc7M/YOKm_zsjvBI/AAAAAAAALmg/kUep9OLXKn8fiikLtcG2bzLwWzDBLP_yACLcBGAsYHQ/s932/Insecure%2BWriters%2BSupport%2BGroup%2BBadge%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="918" data-original-width="932" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tuoebqeIc7M/YOKm_zsjvBI/AAAAAAAALmg/kUep9OLXKn8fiikLtcG2bzLwWzDBLP_yACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Insecure%2BWriters%2BSupport%2BGroup%2BBadge%2B%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>This month's <a href="https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html" target="_blank">Insecure Writers Support Group</a> question - What would make you quit writing? - is apropos to my current hiatus.</p><p>I've been working. Day job stuff. And playing online games. Merge Dragons is my online gaming addiction. I get to a motel between 8-9pm and don't feel like doing anything except veging out. I just want to chill and not think. Not very writerly of me. Writing is not easy when you have day stuff on your mind.</p><p>I'm good at beginnings though. I have a ton of story starts. I get like 500 or 2000 words in, and . . life.</p><p>But, I guess the real beginning of the end for me was losing those three women's fiction novels that I spent about 7 years working on. I don't have the time and dedication to recreate them like I did when I started writing. Starting over is just way too daunting. Especially in today's volatile political and cultural environment.</p><p>I don't know how to be a writer anymore. I 'm worried that I won't be politically correct. I'm worried that I will offend someone and get sued because I just write people in my head as they appear, and the characters don't always follow "diversity" rules. How do I WRITE 100% politically correct as an American Caucasian hetero woman?</p><p>Well, I know I will be back at it again someday. Soon, hopefully, as we begin recovery from Covid 19 restrictions and people return to work. Fantasy is my first love, and perhaps I'll figure out how to write a fantasy novel. At least I can write it well enough for my own enjoyment.</p><p>Thanks for stopping by. Please be sure to visit the IWSG host <a href="https://www.alexjcavanaugh.com/" target="_blank">Alex J Cavanaugh</a>, and July's helpers: <a href="http://www.patgarciaandeverythingmustchange.com/" target="_blank">Pat Garcia</a>, <a href="https://victoriamarielees.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Victoria Marie Lee</a>s and Louise - Fundy Blue.</p>dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-76998197710831178592020-11-03T06:45:00.000-08:002020-11-03T06:45:17.083-08:00IWSG: Why do you write?<p> Happy NaNoWriMo to all those participating. And good luck to you in your creative endeavors.</p><p>I'm not a disciplined or dedicated enough author to participate in this 50K word in one month event, but maybe someday. Not while I'm still working a 40 hour a week job for income though.</p><p>I am attempting to find more writing time, and this IWSG post is being written a week before the publishing deadline. Progress!!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O3M89DKIPRg/X5Z2xT_T9oI/AAAAAAAALBM/RaWLs2M0gDkVNaxzXjxDwMk9CBhrCS7VwCLcBGAsYHQ/s170/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="145" data-original-width="170" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O3M89DKIPRg/X5Z2xT_T9oI/AAAAAAAALBM/RaWLs2M0gDkVNaxzXjxDwMk9CBhrCS7VwCLcBGAsYHQ/s0/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>Since I'm not writing on any of my projects, I have no insecurities or accomplishments to report. I'm just going to post the question, succinctly answer it, and hop around reading everyone else's contributions this month. No, I don't have writers block: I have lots of viable ideas, and sometimes I write those down and save to a word document. Who knows, someday I may have time to expand those story ideas.</p><p>November 4 question - Albert Camus once said, “The purpose of a writer is to keep civilization from destroying itself.” Flannery O’Conner said, “I write to discover what I know.” Authors across time and distance have had many reasons to write. Why do you write what you write?</p><p>Well, I write mostly because I want to explore What If questions. I write to entertain, or to question, or to inform. I write the stories I write because I enjoy the process, and I hope others enjoy reading my thoughts.</p><p>I read for all the same reasons: to be entertained, to explore alternative realities, to expand my world view, to connect with like minded people who are also asking What If questions.</p><p>Thanks for taking the time to read my post. Hope y'all are having a productive End Of Year wrap up.</p><p>Today's post was brought to you by Ninja Captain Alex J Cavanaugh, and his brave co-hosts <a href="https://jemifraser.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Jemi Frasier</a>, <a href="https://kimlajevardi.com/" target="_blank">Kim Lajevardi</a>,<a href="https://lgkeltner.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"> LG Keltner</a>, <a href="http://tyreanswritingspot.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Tyrean Martinson</a>, and <a href="http://rachnachhabria.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Rachna Chhabria</a>.</p>dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-17692991591824280602020-10-24T02:15:00.000-07:002020-10-24T02:15:31.858-07:00WEP: Grave Mistake<p>As usual, I'm a day late for this posting. I missed the deadline to add my entry to the WEP/IWSG flash fiction linky. Oh well; at least I finally finished a story. Wasn't sure I had it in me any more. The last Windows 10 update practically wiped my computer, and I've had a rough time getting my Word program re-installed. I almost had to purchase it again. Long story I don't have time to relate just now.</p><p>Lets get to the fun stuff.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mw9JdYXj2w8/X5PwEq-vO9I/AAAAAAAALAQ/sYvVpuM2R4wLVAF21F1DXiyM_wIUAqYygCLcBGAsYHQ/s1000/Grave%2BMistake%2Bpicture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mw9JdYXj2w8/X5PwEq-vO9I/AAAAAAAALAQ/sYvVpuM2R4wLVAF21F1DXiyM_wIUAqYygCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Grave%2BMistake%2Bpicture.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>I wrote a flash fiction! Yay! I started this a week ago, but had computer problems, and work, and family issues. Wow, who knew writing 1,000 words could take so long? But here it is. I don't have a creative title so you're stuck with the blogfest title. And I'm too tired to give proper introduction to this month's WEP Flash Fiction event: Grave Mistake.</p><p>Feel free to browse the <a href="https://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">WEP website</a> for full posting criteria, as well as<a href="https://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/2020/09/october-21st-sign-up-post.html" target="_blank"> visit other participants.</a></p><p><br /></p><p>GRAVE MISTAKE</p><p>943 words</p><p>Full critique acceptable</p><p>Hump’s feet ran faster than his thoughts. Not unusual; at 28 he still retained his long, gangly limbs and the slim runners body that made him Coach’s pride all the way through high school. Too bad his brain was a bit slower than his distance runners feet or he may have attained a scholarship.</p><p>A cacophony of sirens and shouts followed behind him. Ahead, the general populace hadn’t yet caught on that the clammer of the next block was approaching. Quickly, relentlessly, noisily.</p><p>God! Why can’t they just give up? Its been 10 blocks already.</p><p>The satchel of money cleared the confused market crowd before him. His eyes darted everywhere, not registering anything he saw until –</p><p>A darkly clad shape bending into the rear seat of a car. A kid screaming a protest from within.</p><p>Escape! Finally. If he could just get in before the cops caught up.</p><p>He pounded to the parked car, shoved the being aside, slid into the back seat, and placed the .45 against the screaming kid’s chest. The grounded figure screeched curses and seemed to levitate to its feet. Her feet, he realized, as long nailed fingers clawed at his shoulder in an attempt to pull him out.</p><p>Hump ignored her ranting and yelled, “get in the car and drive. I swear, I’ll shoot you both and boost the car if you don’t hurry.”</p><p>“Mommy?” the said in a quiet rasp</p><p>Mom stared at him for a half a second, and he felt his head filling with a rush of blood and dizziness. Suddenly he felt caught, exposed. Like a deer waiting for the car to swerve into him. Then she slammed the car door on his foot. He groaned, blinked in pain and surprise, pulled his foot all the way into the car, and forcefully latched the door. They were moving almost before he’d realized Mom was in the drivers seat.</p><p>Traffic was starting to back up the intersection as the sirens grew more intense. Still, they were three blocks away from the hijacking point before he thought to ask where she was taking him.</p><p>“Where do you want to go?”</p><p>“Uhm,” he said, trying to think past the sudden headache. Adrenaline, he thought. The crash after the runners high. It happened frequently after after a long, grueling competition. The race is over, he thought. Just need to eat and get settled somewhere.</p><p>“Home,” he said, the wondered why he would want to go there. “Your home. Where do you live?”</p><p>“OK,” Mom said, not taking her eyes off the traffic.</p><p>The kid seemed to nod agreement. Hump looked at the child closely, a girl. Like the mom, she wore a dark hoodie pulled over her head, patched jeans shorts, and nothing but dirt on her tiny feet. Dark eyes drooped in a pale, nearly luminescent face. </p><p>He looked up to see that same creepy looking face gazing at him in the rear-view mirror.</p><p>“Hey, eyes on the road,” he yelled, and lifted his hands to massage his temples.</p><p>Headaches after competition had kept him out of classes too often, but he had never experienced one this intense, or this sudden. Migraines his doctor had called them. He sat back in the seat to rest his throbbing eyes.</p><p>The gun! Was his first thought when the sound of the car door woke him. And then “Where are we?</p><p>“Home,” Mom said. She turned her back on him and followed the kid to the front door of a run=down mobile home.</p><p>Hump blinked to clear his eyes and head. He was dreaming about his family, his home. The memories were so vivid he was disoriented for a moment. Then he remembered. He looked frantically for the gun, found it on the floor, then scrambled out of the car to catch up with his hostages as they entered the dark home.</p><p>He wondered how it got so late; it was late morning when he’d robbed the Loomis van, surely they could not have driven through the afternoon, into evening. He checked his cell phone for the time but it was dead.</p><p>Loomis van! He turned suddenly to the car, a wave of dizziness nearly knocking him off his feet. But there it was, the money satchel, in the front seat. He grabbed it, held the gun out in front of himself and raced for the house.</p><p>Glowing orbs of movement made his eyes and head throb. “Got any food? Juice?”</p><p>“We were out food shopping when you interrupted us,” one of the glows said. It sounded like Mom.</p><p>Hump shielded his eyes with his gun hand. “Turn on the lights.”</p><p>“No power,” Mom replied.</p><p>The smaller glow glided to a back door and opened it. There was still enough daylight to dampen her glow, and Hump realized one of his hostages was making a break for it.</p><p>“Hey, get back here,” he called, pointing the gun at her back.</p><p>“Grandpa needs fed too,” the girl replied.</p><p>She kept moving, so Hump followed. IF there was another person on the property he needed to know.</p><p>“Yes,” Mom said, gesturing for Hump to follow them out the door.</p><p>They hadn’t gone far into the woods, Hump struggling to keep up, before they entered a mausoleum like cave. The two glows nearly merged, blinding him with their brilliance.</p><p>An explosive pain knocked him to his knees. Hump felt himself passing out. Another light appeared behind him as he was passing out.</p><p>“Thanks,” nearly echoed through his skull.</p><p>“Can we go home now Grandpa?”</p><p>“Not for a while Little One. We need more power.”</p><p>“He has people, family, nearby,” Mom said.</p><div><br /></div>dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-42241537227470444862020-10-07T03:00:00.001-07:002020-10-07T03:00:06.858-07:00IWSG: Working Writer<p>Hello.</p><p>Yay for October - Fall is my favorite season. Love the cooling days and warm soil. I just wish I had grass (meaning a lawn) in the back yard. One day . . .</p><p>So many things going on in the world its hard to know what one day to the next will bring. Being the ultimate pessimist, I'm not seeing an end to this pandemic. I don't know exactly where the large numbers are coming from, at least not in my area, but it sure is fueling controversy and fear. Should make it easier to write a horror store this month at W E P. </p><p>Is anyone out there forced to work from home? I'd like to work from home. Would certainly help me do some actual writing - I think. Which brings us to this month's <a href="https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/" target="_blank">Insecure Writer's Support Group </a>optional question:</p><p>October 7 question - When you think of the term working writer, what does that look like to you? What do you think it is supposed to look like? Do you see yourself as a working writer or aspiring or hobbyist, and if latter two, what does that look like?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3nvoKjT2lFc/X3q2FofKDwI/AAAAAAAAK3g/UDgtWr9kzQ0KytPPcckCUiqobIfJnsztACLcBGAsYHQ/s170/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="145" data-original-width="170" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3nvoKjT2lFc/X3q2FofKDwI/AAAAAAAAK3g/UDgtWr9kzQ0KytPPcckCUiqobIfJnsztACLcBGAsYHQ/s0/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>I'm sorry I missed last's months IWSG post, I really wanted to answer that question, something about the author to meet or emulate. But that also ties into the concept of "what a working writer looks like." Stephen King is the author I choose to be like. I know he put in his time as an aspiring author, and worked a day job while waiting to be discovered. He wrote short stories, published in all kinds of magazines and contests, and eventually was able to quit everything except writing. Awesome.</p><p>I consider him brilliantly talented, even though he has written what I consider some epic fail stories and novels. But I like how he just shrugs it off and keeps going. Proving that just because you make it to "working writer" doesn't mean you'll never see a rejection, or bad review. I'm also a character driven writer, and I think I learned that love of ordinary characters in extra-ordinary situations from reading Stephen King novels. There are plenty of other authors who are my idols, but King is the ultimate fan crush.</p><p>Personally, I'm a hobby writer. I don't have the s kill or dedication to put in the time and effort of "working writer." But I enjoy writing stories, and its been gratifying to see some of my stories published. Its a hobby though, much like people who joint pool teams, bowling, display quilts at fair's, You don't have to earn a living at something to enjoy doing it.</p><p>Although I'm not blogging much, or writing for publication at this time, I still sit once in a while and work on some of the ideas in my head. I've even finished a few short items, but no editing. Just having fun. One day maybe people will not be allowed outside their homes for travel or shopping. Then my employment will end, and I might take a stab at "aspiring" to be a "working writer" again.</p><p>I hope everyone is staying safe and taking care of themselves and their families.</p><p>Be sure to thank (by visiting) our IWSG host <a href="https://www.alexjcavanaugh.com/" target="_blank">Alex J Cavanaugh</a>, and his co-hosts <a href="http://jemimapett.com/blog/" target="_blank">Jemima Pett</a>, <a href="https://bethandwriting.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Beth Camp</a>, <a href="https://beverlystowemcclure.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Beverly Stowe-McClure</a>, and <a href="http://gwengardner.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Gwen Gardner</a>. Check out the <a href="https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html" target="_blank">IWSG linky</a> for posts, and to sign up if you haven't already.</p><div>Oh, P.S: I didn't have any trouble creating a blog post since the Google changes, but I do have issues posting on Word Press blogs. Sorry, still trying to get my Disquis and Word Press ID's to work.</div><div><br /></div>dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-74583449675200088682020-08-05T03:00:00.001-07:002020-08-05T03:00:06.856-07:00IWSG: Unplanned Writing GenreHello all;<br />
<br />
August is here - oh my oh my! And boy, its hot in my area. Made even hotter and more uncomfortable while working with the face covering requirements. Uck. But, we are all suffering - unless you are working from your home, in which case I have no sympathy for you. Envy abounds though.<div><br /></div><div>This post might be a bit of a mess cuz I'm writing from my Samsung tablet and not used to the small screen and one finger tapping. How do people live without full screen, a mouse and external keyboard. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cNK-EBb24Z8/Xye4y35OUII/AAAAAAAAKuY/ouCTcDKOm8s1pwmVNkJTtPaXW88QnDBnQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="145" data-original-width="170" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cNK-EBb24Z8/Xye4y35OUII/AAAAAAAAKuY/ouCTcDKOm8s1pwmVNkJTtPaXW88QnDBnQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Since I'm not working from home, I'm picking up slack from all the in-store workers who are at home due to Corona-virus lay-offs, and not getting any writing time. So, I have no writing insecurities - except perhaps that I'm still struggling with considering myself a "writer" since I haven't written much even before the pandemic. I'll try to answer this months question. Its quite unusual, that's for sure.<br />
August 5 question - Quote: "Although I have written a short story collection, the form found me and not the other way around. Don't write short stories, novels or poems. Just write your truth and your stories will mold into the shapes they need to be."<br />
Have you ever written a piece that became a form, or even a genre, you hadn't planned on writing in? Or do you choose a form/genre in advance?</div><div><br /></div><div>I think most of my writing sort of "found me." I don't think I knew much about genres and story classification before writing my first real novel. A short story that begged to be longer and became a book. I thought I was writing something in fiction that Nobody ever wrote outside of nonfiction/biography. </div><div><br /></div><div>It wasn't poetry, mystery, romance, horror, historical, sci-fi, or fantasy. Definitely not porn, children's or Christian. So it had to be new, never seen before. I was a creative genius! The next Great American Novelist. After submitting to several publishers and getting my first vanity agent, I figured out my genre was Women's Fiction, still haven't entirely settled into a subgenre, and the field is overflowing with aspiring authors just like me.</div><div><br /></div><div>On the plus side I discovered a new realm of books to read and authors to envy, emulate, and treasure.</div><div><br /></div><div>With the discovery of blogging (recommended through an offline writing group) I was introduced to even more writing forms and genres. I credit blogging, and several writers groups both on and offline, with the majority of my knowledge and experience.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Just write your truth and your stories will mold into the shapes they need to be." This quote truly summarizes my writing experiences since I started blogging (2007?2009?). I get story ideas, usually a specific character thumps on my forehead with a specific scene, setting, or issue, and I just write it. The characters choose which form or genre the storyline follows, and I don't worry about pigeonholing such minor details until the second rewrite/editing pass.</div><div><br /></div><div>Gotta know what genre to adher to for submission, even if you are self publishing.</div><div><br /></div><div>And for a blog post on the busiest Wednesday of the month this is getting rather long. Time to thank our host Alex J Cavanaugh, the IWSG team, and this month's co-hosts: Susan Baury Rouchard, Nancy Gideon, Jennifer Lane, Jennifer Hawes, Chemist Ken, Chrys Fey.</div><div><br /></div><div>Have a good one y'all; see ya 'round the blogverse.</div>dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-54362954442186283662020-07-01T20:12:00.000-07:002020-07-01T20:12:18.283-07:00IWSG - Industry ChangesHey Everyone!<br />
<br />
Well, its Wednesday July 1, 2020. Time for the monthly first Wednesday of the month IWSG post. I missed last month's post. And I'm late this month. Not doing well at keeping a schedule, lol. This month's co-hosts: <a href="https://jennienzor.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Jenni Enzor,</a> <a href="https://bethandwriting.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Beth Camp</a>,<a href="https://www.roamingabout.com/" target="_blank"> Liesbet</a>, <a href="http://tyreanswritingspot.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Tyrean Martinson</a>, <a href="http://sandracox.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Sandra Cox</a>.<br />
<br />
The July 1 question is very interesting, but I could not really answer it. There have been many industry changes in the last decade, so what are some changes you would like to see happen in the next decade?<br />
<br />
I guess I'm too stressed over the state of the world right now to hope for much good change. And I'm thinking my of MY WORLD - meaning in America, California, my employment and family. I have been working through all the "shelter at home" orders, traveling state to state, always in the public. Now everyone is allowed out, but has to wear a face covering (unless you fall into a ton of exceptions). And yes, I'm protesting because breathing my own toxic respiration is NOT keeping me healthy.<br />
<br />
Then there is all the rioting, protests against police and demands to de-fund and discontinue police departments, the destruction of monuments and statutes, and people taking over public facilities so they live off handouts from the system they vilifying.<br />
<br />
Yep, lots to write about. But that "industry changes" question still haunts me. What types of story will be acceptable in the near future? Historical and Classic books are already being destroyed or rewritten to reflect today's politically correct society, not the era they were written in. Soon, I can see the criteria for publication being a bean count of diversity, not the description of the story.<br />
<br />
Every time I read this post, I'm sure its offensive to someone, or everyone. That is certainly not my intention. I delete and rewrite and rethink what I want to say. Nothing is making any sense. So I'll stop here before I work myself into an unintended, politically incorrect rant.<br />
<br />
Be safe out there everyone. The world has gone insane.dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-25089700219372427622020-05-06T00:13:00.000-07:002020-05-06T00:13:59.423-07:00IWSG: Getting into the Z O N EHi Everyone,<br />
<br />
The first Wednesday of the month has snuck up on me - so much going on in my world. Sadly, its not writing. And being on-line is just about the last thing on my mind - well except to check my bank account and see how close to the red zone I am.<br />
<br />
I'm going to jump right into the IWSG question of the month because its very late, I'm tired, and my brain is fuzzier than the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Outer_Limits_(1963_TV_series)" target="_blank">Outer Limits</a> beginning credits.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-okBIqpn7WPw/XrJcgwUdx-I/AAAAAAAAKgE/dWb2vrSR8IkznxIr8YLCBPZcK9GQ2s6bACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="145" data-original-width="170" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-okBIqpn7WPw/XrJcgwUdx-I/AAAAAAAAKgE/dWb2vrSR8IkznxIr8YLCBPZcK9GQ2s6bACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
This month's fabulous co-hosts: <a href="https://featherstoneauthor.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Feather Stone</a>, <a href="https://beverlystowemcclure.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Beverly Stowe McClure</a>, <a href="https://playoffthepage.com/" target="_blank">Mary Aalgaard,</a> <a href="https://www.blogger.com/"><span id="goog_1116294913"></span>Kim Lajevardi<span id="goog_1116294914"></span></a>, and <a href="http://hogwartssabbatical.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Chemist Ken</a>.<br />
<br />
May 6 question - Do you have any rituals that you use when you need help getting into the ZONE? Care to share?<br />
<br />
Like, oh boy do I!!! Not all are productive - I've been known to let the "getting into the zone" become procrastination and distraction.<br />
<br />
If I'm creating a new project, I usually do a bit of research on names (name meanings can be a source of personality traits for characters) and location/setting. Sometimes I have to look up a monster, hero, legend, ethnic group and the like to make the story authentic. I have problems with "voice" and tone, so frequently I have to just free-write a while to settle into the world and character. If that fails, I occasionally need to watch movie/TV snippets to get a certain voice in my head, or read some passages from my favorite books.<br />
<br />
Its harder to get into the "zone" with a continuing project. At the start of a session I read several pages of previous writing to remind myself where I am, but also to get into the mood of the story. Sometimes I put on music to fit the over all mood or world setting. If I get REALLY stumped on wording, or the next scene, or how to type the video playing in my head into into a word document I will free write a bunch of nonsense, read a thesaurus, talk to myself, or clean house.<br />
<br />
Yep, you read that right: clean house, or other mundane, mindless chores that take my mind off the immediate frustration. The tactic actually does help, unless I get too involved with the cleaning project and forget all the insights I gathered before I get the computer turned on and the story so far loaded with blinking curser announcing its all ready get back into the Zone.<br />
<br />
Happy Wednesday Y'all. I'll be around to visit your blogs over the weekend mostly; this is my busy week of long driving and almost no time for sleep or anything else. Stay safe out there, and remember to remain six blogs away from where you really want to be to practice social media distancing.<br />
<br />dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-3238890608343056602020-04-01T00:16:00.000-07:002020-04-01T00:47:12.440-07:00IWSG: How are things in your world?This month's<a href="https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/" target="_blank"> Insecure Writers Support Group</a> meeting is on April 1 - April Fools Day. I don't know about you, but I'm feeling like I'm not getting the joke. Sad, sad times all over the world. And I appreciate the IWSG crew for acknowledging that sentiment in this months optional question.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T7M_Ur-wAjU/XoRG6xi-QnI/AAAAAAAAKb0/dkK1iSAU28gfoLO55KP17c_K5-lUt0h8QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Insecure%2BWriters%2BSupport%2BGroup%2BBadge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="918" data-original-width="932" height="315" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-T7M_Ur-wAjU/XoRG6xi-QnI/AAAAAAAAKb0/dkK1iSAU28gfoLO55KP17c_K5-lUt0h8QCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Insecure%2BWriters%2BSupport%2BGroup%2BBadge.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
April 1 question - The IWSG’s focus is on our writers. Each month, from all over the globe, we are a united group sharing our insecurities, our troubles, and our pain. So, in this time when our world is in crisis with the COVID-19 pandemic, our optional question this month is: how are things in your world?<br />
<br />
Well, as much as I hate to admit it to those out there suffering, I'm doing pretty much the same as before. I still have my job, my home, my paycheck, and me and all my family are fine. Wish I could work from home!<br />
<br />
Anybody out there working from home on decent COVID-19 apocalypse stories?<br />
<br />
Happy April Fools Day - just kidding :)<br />
<br />dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-435548018855454582020-03-13T02:30:00.000-07:002020-03-13T02:30:07.303-07:00Warrior Muse Blog Hop for BRUISED SOULS releaseFriday the 13th! Pretty cool, yeah? A great day for a horror writer to have a blog tour for her Indi published Short Story collection. Shannon Lawrence at Warrior Muse is celebrating the release of her second Short Story compiliation BRUISED SOULS with a blog hop.<br />
<br />
For this Blog Hop, Shannon requests we post one of the following, followed by her book info:<br />
1. Your favorite urban legend<br />
2. Your favorite old wives' tale<br />
3. Something scary that occurred in real life and taught you an important lesson<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I don't know much about old wives tales - they usually have some moral lesson involved (boring); and I've had lots of scary situations that did not result in a learned life lesson. Unless that life lesson is "I'm lucky, I survived!) But I do have a favorite urban legend.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Since childhood, anything about Sasquatch interests me - but not in a scary way. I live in Northern California, in the mountains and forests. Recently I moved to the actual foothills, outside the populated urban areas, and so my chances of seeing a Big Foot should have increased from less-than-nil to a-definite-possibility.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
According to <a href="https://www.history.com/news/bigfoot-legend-newspaper" target="_blank">this historical article</a>, The California version of the Bigfoot Legend has its origins in 1958, with a letter sent to Andrew Genzoli of the Humboldt Times, from several Redding CA loggers who discovered " mysteriously large footprints." The article states "Genzoli said that he’d simply thought the mysterious footprints “made a good Sunday morning story.” But it caught the interest of locals, then the National Media, and finally Hollywood. Ever seen the 1987 movie <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0093148/" target="_blank">HARRY AND THE HENDERSONS?</a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Well, my quasi-belief in the huge, shaggy, Wild Man is not so environmentally friendly - I do like horror stories after all. I see him (them) as tricksters, vandals, and predators; but not sexual predators. Unless they have a taste for beer or whiskey, I don't see the Sasquatch race being attracted to us puny, hairless humans. Except as food. Even a bear will chase, catch, play with, and eat a human if they are hungry or angry enough. I've scientific articles that state humans are not tasty to eat. I wouldn't know as I've never been hungry enough to eat human flesh. With the Corona Virus, and the potential for pandemic death, and the end of civilization as we know it, the Zombie Apocalypse could change my menu preferences. Ya just never know, ya know?<br />
<br />
As recently as July 2014, Zoologist Dan Brown was guest speaker at the Lake Oroville, CA, Visitor's Center, drawing a crowd of 160 locals (<a href="https://krcrtv.com/archive/bigfoot-expert-draws-huge-crowd-in-oroville" target="_blank">source</a>), and claims to have personally witnessed, and collected evidence of a Big Foot sighting in the area. In his speech he says "I have actually spotted the animal outside of Oroville with my own eyes." In his speech he goes on to say; "You know, in 1969 on Table Mountain, 11 people saw Bigfoot," he said. "And off of Black Bart Road also. Some people on the lake had sighting, while they're on the lake, seeing it on the shore." Brown also brought with him alleged castings of the elusive animal's feet.<br />
<br />
Well, I'm convinced. My husband is an avid watcher of the program on Discovery or AMC or some such, that deals with <a href="https://screenrant.com/mountain-monsters-dark-secrets-shockingtrivia-facts/" target="_blank">Mountain Monsters</a>. The Dudes spent some time in NorCal, Redding and Siskiyou County, and it was fun to watch these guys chasing a Thing they called a Big Foot. They had infrared blips, obscure tree knocking sounds, and blury distance views of a being they considered Sasquatch. They even had an episode (though not in NorCal) of some rednecks that claim they shot, killed, and buried a Big Foot. Sadly, none of them remembered exactly where they buried the evidence of their kill; they were drunk and high on the hunt, and scared shitless they'd be arrested for murder, so nobody can pinpoint exactly where the Boys hid the body.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Big Foot, aka Sasquatch, is not to be confused by the other, older legend of The Dark Watchers known to haunt the Central/Coastal Valley along the Santa Lucia Mountain Range. Sightings of The Dark Watchers date back to "Spanish explorers making their way to the California Coast." (<a href="https://mysteriousuniverse.org/2018/07/the-mysterious-dark-watchers-of-california/" target="_blank">source</a>) The Dark Watchers are described as:</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
very tall humanoid entities ranging in height from 7 feet tall all the way up to around 15 feet tall, dressed all in black and wearing flowing cloaks and wide brimmed hats, with many sightings also mentioning some sort of staves or sticks in the beings’ hands. Facial features are not typically seen, and they are almost always silent, enigmatic figures usually seen at a distance up on ridges silhouetted against the darkening twilight sky, always at around dusk or dawn, quietly looking over and surveying their domain with unknowable purpose and often vanishing in the blink of an eye, especially if one is to try and draw closer.</blockquote>
I live in Oroville, under part of the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range - a few miles south of South Table Mountain. (Table Mountain, and the cascading Buttes to the south east coast line, were formed by the giant <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Bunyan" target="_blank">Paul Bunyan</a> sitting down to lunch. He chopped off the top of a mountain to form his table, and his blue ox Babe formed the Sacramento Valley while snuggling out a nitch for a nap.) any local legends and tragedies abound in the local bookstores. I think if I were to write them in an anthology it could look a lot like Stephen King's fictional town of Castle Rock, Main. Someday, maybe . . when I'm not working 60 hours a week. But Big Foot is my favorite; and our plan is to set up a digital camera pointing at the downhill creek area of our property in hopes of catching our own distant, blury, mobile figure of Sasquatch to sell to the tabloids for our 15 seconds of fame.<br />
<br />
Don't laugh; it could happen!<br />
<br />
Thanks Shannon for giving me this opportunity to expose my favorite Urban Legend in my home town. I wish you luck in your book launch.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bJMZgCwHlYg/XmtNkqlXjoI/AAAAAAAAKX8/-fNZ4JH7cGkA2RSedExePHBgp1R9Yb8hwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/cream_book_template_front%2Bv2%2BeBook%2Bversion%2B-%2Bcentered.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1063" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bJMZgCwHlYg/XmtNkqlXjoI/AAAAAAAAKX8/-fNZ4JH7cGkA2RSedExePHBgp1R9Yb8hwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/cream_book_template_front%2Bv2%2BeBook%2Bversion%2B-%2Bcentered.jpg" width="212" /></a><br />
<br />
Title: Bruised Souls & Other Torments: Short Stories<br />
Author: Shannon Lawrence<br />
<br />
Amazon pre-order link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B085N7YCZ3<br />
<br />
<br />
The Kindle e-book will be live Friday. The paperback *should* be. It will hit Smashwords and everywhere they distribute within the next week.<br />
<br />
Blurb:<br />
<br />
Fear resides in the soul.<br />
<br />
A welcoming widow with a twisted appetite; a war-time evil lurking behind the face of a child; a father’s love gone horribly wrong; a deadly government solution; a new job with a demonic pay scale; a woman trapped in a mysterious house with no memory of who she is or how she got there. These are a mere glimpse of the terrors that lie in wait in this collection of horror short stories, sure to grip the psyche and torment the soul.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mc-7Qpmx0BI/XmtOlZpIRSI/AAAAAAAAKYE/Ak90r8QS9VUAet45J9ONWEwmvWxdnukAwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/LAWRENCE%2B%252812%2529%2Bc%2B%2528compromise%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mc-7Qpmx0BI/XmtOlZpIRSI/AAAAAAAAKYE/Ak90r8QS9VUAet45J9ONWEwmvWxdnukAwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/LAWRENCE%2B%252812%2529%2Bc%2B%2528compromise%2529.jpg" width="213" /></a>My website and social media links:<br />
website: www.thewarriormuse.com<br />
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thewarriormuse/<br />
Twitter: https://twitter.com/thewarriormuse<br />
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/thewarriormuse/<br />
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/thewarriormuse/<br />
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/shannon-lawrence<br />
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13836289.Shannon_Lawrence<br />
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Shannon-Lawrence/e/B00TDKPOAO/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_5dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-26418681946108043272020-03-04T03:00:00.000-08:002020-03-04T03:00:08.913-08:00IWSG: Customs in stories<br />
Hey Ya'll; I'm back!!<br />
<br />
Yep, I signed up again for the monthly <a href="https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/" target="_blank">Insecure Writers Support Group</a>; hopefully this commitment is my first step in getting back into blogging and writing. Go to <a href="https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html" target="_blank">IWSG sign-up linky</a>, look at the last number on the list (176) and there I am, lol. If you are not already on the linky, do a girl a favor and sign up so I'm not last in line! Thank ya kindly.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uPNSUjJ4E-I/Xl4IhZW8vOI/AAAAAAAAKW8/7fkkfb7-UPcsY4dw8-IDXtxuGVPgLmq8wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="145" data-original-width="170" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uPNSUjJ4E-I/Xl4IhZW8vOI/AAAAAAAAKW8/7fkkfb7-UPcsY4dw8-IDXtxuGVPgLmq8wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Lets get this first Wednesday of the Month started with the optional March 4 question - Other than the obvious holiday traditions, have you ever included any personal or family traditions/customs in your stories?<br />
<br />
My answer: Hmm, I'm really not sure. My home as a child was so strictly regular - or regulated - that I could not breathe. As I grew up, moved out, and had my own children, I slowly tossed away all those harsh family traditions. Until one day, I realized I did nothing like how I was raised.<br />
<br />
In fact, I don't believe I did anything much the same from year to year, season to season. Maybe Christmas and Thanksgiving, and summer clothing buying. I always had an unwrapped Santa gift for each kid that only arrived on Christmas Eve (after all kids went to bed), and stockings had the most prized gifts. And unlike my childhood home at Thanksgiving, when we starved all day, cooked, and had dinner eaten and cleaned up by 3pm, I had all day snacks and treats and dinner around 5p. And every summer, there was a shopping spree for new "play clothes". I never had a separation for "play" clothes and "school" clothes - except clothes too stained or ripped to wear to school.<br />
<br />
Because there has always been such a lack of tradition in my home, I have a tendency to not have set traditions in my stories. This has not been a purposeful oversight; I just forget to write anything typical like: going to church, having a pet (although we've always had a cat at my house), family reunions, and worst of all, not writing friends and social life.<br />
<br />
Perhaps this is why my best stories are short stories and flash fiction. And why it is taking me 10 years or so to edit my women's fiction trilogy: I keep adding some true family life into my characters. Practice practice practice.<br />
<br />
This was an interesting question to explore - not sure my answer was as interesting. But there it is. I'm pretty busy this week, not gonna have my computer much, so I will do most of my blog hopping this weekend. Don't forget to visit the IWSG founder Alex J Cavanaugh, and the March 4 co-hosts: <a href="https://worddreams.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Jacqui Murray</a>, <a href="http://www.lisabuiecollard.com/" target="_blank">Lisa Buie-Collard</a>, <a href="http://thefauxfountainpen.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Sarah Foster</a>, <a href="http://www.literaryrambles.com/%E2%80%9Dtarget=" target="_blank">Natalie Aguirre</a>, <a href="http://thewarriormuse.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Shannon Lawrence.</a>dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-89804004252747376482020-02-20T07:58:00.000-08:002020-02-20T08:05:07.634-08:00WEP: CAFE TERRACEHappy Birthday WEP!!<br />
<br />
This is the first post of the year for the <a href="https://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">WEP - aka Write..Edit..Publish</a>. And look, I managed to make this my first real post of the year 2020. Writing progress, lol.<br />
<br />
I don't have a lot of time for intro - gotta get to work and make that money. So here's the copy/paste details from the <a href="https://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/2020/02/wep-february-challenge-cafe-terrace.html" target="_blank">WEP linkz post</a>. Hurry hurry to create your own submission.<br />
<br />
1. SUBMIT your name to the list below on publication of your entry. Add DL after your name. (DirectLink) We will no longer add your Direct Link.<br />
2. POST your edited entry, making sure 'WEP' is in the TITLE along with the CAFE TERRACE badge within your entry.<br />
3. STATE feedback preferences and word count at the end of your entry.<br />
4. READ other entries, giving feedback if requested.<br />
5. SHARE THE CHALLENGE on social media. Tweets are ready on the WEP blog.<br />
PLEASE NOTE: ENTRIES CLOSE FEBRUARY 21 (NY Time - check WEP blog clock)<br />
ALL GENRES WELCOME except erotica - 1,000 words maximum<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UV8wZ3DK0eU/Xk6sUBJ0uPI/AAAAAAAAKUg/0wILVEb1x845L9zOBSn3MOhy3J_PziTwwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/cafe%2Bterrace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UV8wZ3DK0eU/Xk6sUBJ0uPI/AAAAAAAAKUg/0wILVEb1x845L9zOBSn3MOhy3J_PziTwwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/cafe%2Bterrace.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">LUCID
PAST<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sonia
coughed and spit a wad of bloody mucus into a sodden rag. The rag had once been
her favorite kerchief, the one Carlos had liked so well. Now it was thread
bare, colorless, nothing left to hold onto except the memories of love and life
and laughter. Sonia missed his laughter more than anything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She
was a large dirty bundle tucked into a deep doorway, though she was thin, scraggly
woman of 70 years. Everything she owned was piled under and around her; keeping
her warm and well hidden. More than the foggy night creeped in the dark alleys
of the abandoned old city center. Her tattered scarf itched and moved, and she dusted
a fevered and mittened hand against the knitting, hoping it was wind and not
bugs burrowing into her thin hair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">This
doorway had been her permanent night home for more years than she could
remember. Across the street was a long wooden porch that had seen better years,
but somehow had not fallen completely apart. She thought it once must have been
home to an outdoor market, and reminded her of the Café she and Carlos met at.
Before the war, and death, and so many failures left her just as abandoned and
bereft as the city she streets she haunted. Not the same city, not even the
same country.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Between
the remnants of the farmers market, and the old school like building down the
street that resembled the orphanage where she initially made her simple vows.
Sonia’s hand fell limply to her side, her breathing slowed, and her mind
slipped into a memory of the day she met Carlos. The clatter of broken glass shifting
in the wind became the sighing tink of a tambourine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Carlos
was known as The Gypsy Boy, even though everyone knew he was no Gypsy. Tall and
lean, in too small, patched breeches and a woolen shirt several sizes to large,
Carlos frequently entertained the lost ones and Nuns who ran the orphanage.
Sonia’s family just sent her Convent Dowery, assuring another year’s
comfortable existence as an initiate, but already the Reverend Mother was
expressing doubts about Sonia’s suitability to the religious community. She
loved people too much to be effectively cloistered, but the church needed the
income, and Sonia had a gift with the children’s education.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Dance
with me pretty Sonia,” Carlos begged, waving his tambourine in front of
himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
tinkling symbols made her giggle. The warmth of his hand made her heart skip a
beat. He took her bread basket and set it on the grass, then bowed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But
no, that wasn’t quite right. Not on that day. That day the Café was just opening,
the owner was washing tables and setting out flower vases. Now it was busy with
smiling patrons, women and children were dashing across the street to laugh and
talk with each other, and Carlos was dressed in the Khaki’s she’d last seen him
in. She grinned at him as she had that day, only now trying not to remember he’d
been shot as a deserter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I
don’t think I shall,” she said, now as she had then. “The Reverend Mother is
watching.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He
looked around, as he had on that day, and smugly replied, “But we are alone.
And the day is fine, and you have inspired a song in my heart.” He danced
around her, singing something non-sensical about love and undying devotion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Her
heart leaped with him, and she felt the years of toil and despair fall away.
But that was wrong too; she was young, only 17, lush and fully developed
beneath her habit. Her tunic was new, her grey veil had been freshly cleaned.
She spun around as she watched him circling her, her bare feet relishing the
feel warm grass.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“I
should be wearing shoes,” she thought. Before her first initiation rites she
was the family disappointment, always shucking her expensive shoes and tramping
barefoot through the freshly cut grass with the servant’s children. It was
hoped life as a Religious Sister would calm her wildness, give her life purpose
since she had shunned all the arranged marriage proposals. Unexpectedly, Sonia
had agreed to the terms of service with enthusiasm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Until
Carlos. It had taken months of mischievous meetings for her to succumb to his
charms. A bouquet of wild flowers appeared in his hand. She took them, inhaled
deeply, absorbing the colors and fragrance. He frequently offered her gifts of
flowers, bites of pilfered chocolate, pebbles that shinned like crystals, if
only in his eyes. Once he wove a ring out of fine twigs and asked her to marry
him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">She
looked at her left finger, and there was the woven ring. “Not on our first
meeting,” she reminded herself, but still smiled at the inaccuracy of her
memory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Except,
it didn’t feel like a memory anymore. It felt like a new meeting, in a familiar
setting. Everything about their affair was mixed up, but fresh and new. He
laughed again, a sound that she loved and craved. More years fell away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sonia
let them go easily.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“This
day will never end,” Carlos promised, pulling the veil from her hair. He’d said
that often, and meant it every time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Stars
burst overhead in brilliant rainbow streams, the cloudless day not dampening
their brightness. Sonia remembered the New Years celebration before he left to
fight a war he didn’t believe in. The promises, the night of romance. She didn’t
believe any of it then.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sonia
believed now. She stepped into his arms, swayed with the shimmering tambourine
and the sweetness of his voice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Yes,”
she agreed. Willing it to be THAT day, everyday.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">word count: 949</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">full critique acceptable</span></div>
</div>
<br />dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-59058936169450763032020-02-05T03:00:00.000-08:002020-02-05T03:00:09.908-08:00NOTE TO SELFNote to self: Make a blog post to get back into blogging and writing after a super long hiatus.<br />
<br />
Ok, I've created a new post. Mission accomplished, lol.<br />
<br />
Now I can go hop around the <a href="https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html" target="_blank">IWSG linky</a> and read what's up with everyone else. I'll post something more interesting soon.<br />
<br />
Thanks for visiting.dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-91168047662476564542019-10-28T19:18:00.000-07:002019-10-28T19:18:06.234-07:00TROLL INFESTATIONHey Y'all<br />
<br />
Sorry I've been absent. Missed a few postings I wanted to participate in. My focus has not been on writing lately. Sold my home - got a great profit! But been in escrow for three houses and still living with family - yuck!!!! Work sucks - doesn't it always?!? Family drama. Did I mention living with family? Not cuz I'm destitute - far from it - but just haven't found a new home to close escrow on. So frustrating . . .<br />
<br />
Just too much going on at home to write on anything, or even to blog hop around.<br />
<br />
I miss it all though.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0-AeNQWHbUU/Xbegq82mlcI/AAAAAAAAJg0/QsJVZakPTFcwKKxZJGh1EkdW9Jj7v3JTACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Comment%2Btrolls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1100" data-original-width="1100" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0-AeNQWHbUU/Xbegq82mlcI/AAAAAAAAJg0/QsJVZakPTFcwKKxZJGh1EkdW9Jj7v3JTACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Comment%2Btrolls.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
And . . since I followed some really good advice and secured my blog so all my friends and in-linkz postings can be seen on my blog - not to mention letting the blog go stagnant for a couple months - it seems I'm having more TROLL COMMENTS than friendly visitors. I deleted at least 12 spam comments from the last IWSG post. Seems the more secure you make a site, the harder it is for the regulars to visit.<br />
<br />
Don't we love our electronics.<br />
<br />
Anyway - the TROLLS have discovered my blog again, but that's not the reason I've all but abandoned the Community. I have just been otherwise occupied, and expect to be lax here for the rest of the year. Seems a good time to fix my life.<br />
<br />
And perhaps I will come up with some good Troll stories while I'm not minding my blog for a couple months.<br />
<br />
Good luck to all of you . . .<br />
<br />dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-92034685332391094372019-09-04T03:00:00.000-07:002019-09-04T03:00:03.826-07:00IWSG: Writing SpaceHello!!<br />
<br />
I am, again, almost late for a post day. Time just got away from me, so I'll make this short and simple. I hope.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3uWDgI-ZjHc/XW9gX4uxKKI/AAAAAAAAJbQ/pF3GmrpNRuoaCK_kpIojOB8yPp_VqBdqwCLcBGAs/s1600/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="145" data-original-width="170" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3uWDgI-ZjHc/XW9gX4uxKKI/AAAAAAAAJbQ/pF3GmrpNRuoaCK_kpIojOB8yPp_VqBdqwCLcBGAs/s1600/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" /></a>Today's <a href="https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html" target="_blank">IWSG</a> is brought to you courtesy of founder <a href="https://www.alexjcavanaugh.com/" target="_blank">Ninja Captain Alex J Cavanaugh</a>, and his co-hosts: <a href="http://gwengardner.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Gwen Gardner</a>, <a href="https://doreenmcgettigan.com/" target="_blank">Doreen McGettigan,</a> <a href="http://tyreanswritingspot.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Tyrean Martinson</a>, <a href="http://hogwartssabbatical.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Chemist Ken</a>, and <a href="http://cathrinaconstantine.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Cathrina Constantine</a>.<br />
<br />
September optional question is: If you could pick one place in the world to sit and write your next story, where would it be and why?<br />
<br />
This is a more difficult answer than it should be. I always thought my favorite place to write is home; then it was a beautiful setting like the beach or some other resort. Somewhere alone, no distractions like work or kids or husband, or cats, or cleaning.<br />
The truth is though, it really doesn't matter how alone I am, or where. I can get distracted by simply turning on my computer - with or without internet. There are games in there, and photos, and old unfinished stories to review that might relate to my current writing<br />
I suppose my favorite writing place should be alone, in a room with nothing to eat or drink, no cell phone, a computer with nothing on it but a word program - - oh look, I wonder what that button/feature does! OR - I could open another document and also write on that new character that just entered my head and doesn't belong in this story.<br />
OR - -<br />
<br />
I love writing stories. I really do! I love being in a character's head, creating their world, making up all the rules, making stuff happen, or not. The more twisted the concept, the more I enjoy it. Writing is my favorite way to spend time, or waste it. All I need, is to stop letting myself get distracted. And a beautiful setting to write in, would just make me want to explore my surroundings.<br />
<br />
So where is your favorite place to write? Are you easily distracted? Or do you immerse yourself and have to be dragged out of your writing time kicking and screaming, lol. Did you get a submission in for the IWSG Anthology contest?dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-71018274428163789972019-08-22T23:15:00.004-07:002019-08-22T23:15:30.536-07:00WEP/IWSG flash challenge: Red WheelbarrowHey y'all<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dELaG-EbRaI/XV-DHkJemCI/AAAAAAAAJak/QthS2HZDlKYeC0zOTarG17wtMdPfz9qRQCLcBGAs/s1600/RED%2BWHEELBARROW%2BGOOD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dELaG-EbRaI/XV-DHkJemCI/AAAAAAAAJak/QthS2HZDlKYeC0zOTarG17wtMdPfz9qRQCLcBGAs/s1600/RED%2BWHEELBARROW%2BGOOD.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
I've nearly run out of time to post my submission for the <a href="http://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Write Edit Publish/IWSG</a> August challenge; Red Wheelbarrow. I had a story started for this prompt, a nicely bloody tale that needed some editing and - slashing to fit the 1000 word count. The MC just would not cooperate however, and finally I had to give up on the flash and go with a short story. Ten year old developing serial killers can be so needy and attention seeking!<br />
<br />
So here I am, posting at the last minute with a hurriedly thrown together flash. I don't know where this story came from - I was watching <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0848537/" target="_blank">Disney's Epic</a> as I wrote it. I know, the TV should have been off, but I can't stand silence when I'm writing and music would have been a bigger distraction.<br />
<br />
Hope you enjoy twisted fairy tales. No Denise, no blood in this, hence the lack of reader warning, lol.<br />
<br />
word count: 868<br />
full critique acceptable<br />
<br />
FAIRY JAM<br />
<br />
“What happened next Granny?”<br />
<br />
“Well, that part is unclear. The little Fairy hid a long time under the red wheel barrow. So long in fact, that the sun was nearly set before she dared peek out. But then,” Granny’s voice lowered and she leaned closer to the troll girl’s bed of rocks.<br />
<br />
Gwenda leaned forward, her eyes almost humanly round and wide.<br />
<br />
“Then,” Granny drawled, pinching the blanket of moss for dramatic effect. “A firefly buzzed around the wheel barrow, and then another, and another. And then the voices.”<br />
<br />
Gwenda shrank back with a horrified gasp. “Was it . . Children?”<br />
<br />
“Yeesss! Two boys and three girls. They carried nets, and glass jars with screw top lids. They laughed and squealed at the sight of the fireflies, jumping all around and over the wheel barrow. They stomped, and leaped, kicking the sides and handles of the barrow. It got darker and darker, and only the tails of the fireflies lit the garden area where the Fairy cowered in fear.”<br />
<br />
Granny scooted back into her rocker, picked up a fried human ear, dipped it in sludge and chewed noisily. Mimicking the scared Fairy, Gwenda clutched her favorite petrified rat and tried to sink deeper into the rock pillow.<br />
<br />
“Scared?” Granny asked brushing crumbs from her lips.<br />
<br />
Gwenda shook her head, dislodging an earwig that had gotten stuck in the crevice of her neck. Granny’s scary stories were the best park of spending the day.<br />
<br />
“Good girl. Now where was I? Oh yes. The little Fairy was trapped under the red wheel barrow, the Children racing all around, chasing the fireflies.”<br />
<br />
“Did they catch them? The fireflies? Why can’t they just turn off their tails and disappear into the dark.”<br />
<br />
“Oh yes, they caught them. The fireflies can turn off their lights, but they are too stupid to do so for long. They think the flashes ward off predators. Even us Rock Trolls dare not eat a firefly, they are poisonous even to us.”<br />
<br />
“But aren’t the Children predators?” Gwenda sat boulder straight, pulling her knobby knees into her chest.<br />
<br />
“Not like us. They just don’t know any better. Children think its just fun.” Granny dipped another ear and offered it to Gwenda.<br />
<br />
Gwenda nibbled on a lobe, then asked; “Did the Children run away after they caught the fireflies?” She would be very disappointed if they did.<br />
<br />
“No, no. Once they had the fireflies in a jar they wanted to watch the bugs flash about. So the boys reached down, gripped the edge of the wheel barrow, and flipped it on its wheel.”<br />
<br />
“They let the Fairy escape?”<br />
<br />
Granny laughed, a soothing sound like boulders rolling down a cliff. “They did not know she was there, now did they?”<br />
<br />
Gwenda thumped the side of her head to dislodge the rocks weighing down her thinking. Of course the Children did not know the Fairy was there. They were preoccupied with the fireflies.<br />
<br />
“Luckily, the Fairy was too shocked at her sudden release to immediately take flight. She was still clinging to a paint chip when one of the girls hopped inside, she nearly squished the Fairy with fingers.”<br />
<br />
Gwenda licked her lips at the thought of Fairy jam. Blue Fairies were tastiest, but red ones were rare so worth the faint sweetness. “What color was she Granny?”<br />
<br />
“Huh? Oh, green, I think. Green apple.” Suddenly Granny dropped her half eaten ear back into the gourd and shoved it away. She must have been thinking about Fairy jam too.<br />
<br />
“But she didn’t get squished.”<br />
<br />
“Nope. The Girl Child screamed and pulled her hand away. The Fairy jumped high, flapped her wings twice, and dashed straight into a jar one of the boys had quickly grabbed. Then he closed the lid tight and held it up for all the Children to see.”<br />
<br />
“I wish I could see her in that jar,” Gwenda said angrily, rubbing her fingers together in a squishing motion. “Maybe it was the Fairy that released my butterflies.”<br />
<br />
“Hehehe. Maybe.” Granny peered at the dimming stalagmites above Gwenda’s bed. “Grampy’s closing the cave, dawn is coming. Its time for all good Trolls to get some sleep.” She leaned over the bed to kiss Gwenda’s nose.<br />
<br />
“But the story Granny! I have to know what happened.”<br />
<br />
“I’ll finish tomorrow. I promise.”<br />
<br />
“I get to stay another night? Yipee!!” Gwenda rolled around her rock bed, grinding small stones with her knees and elbows.<br />
<br />
Granny gave a grin the size of a cave mouth and turned to leave.<br />
<br />
Gwenda was pulling the moss snugly around her when the rocks in her head shifted again and she had a sudden thought. “Granny, is this a true story? How do you know about the little Fairy and the Children?”<br />
<br />
Granny winked. “Perhaps, perhaps not. You know how unreliable bats can be. Good morning little one.”<br />
<br />
Gwenda yawned, her thoughts drifting to a red wheel barrow she had seen near a human farm the night before. If it was still there, the little Fairy might still be trapped in the jar.<br />
<br />
She fell asleep dreaming of green apple Fairy Jam, and the gossip the Bats would spread about Gwenda’s great battle with the monstrous Children.<br />
<br />
****<br />
This writing is part of the WEP/IWSG bi-monthly flash challenge. <a href="http://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/2019/08/wepiwsg-sign-up-for-august-challenge.html" target="_blank">Click on this link</a> for a list of other participants and challenge rules.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-52530842100849589822019-08-07T03:00:00.000-07:002019-08-07T03:00:02.940-07:00IWSG: Writing Surprises<br />
Hey y'all - How's your summer going? I'm in sales and merchandising, so my summer is pretty much ended, and I'm already planning winter gear and Christmas. Ugh, I've always hated thinking about Christmas before the Thanksgiving Turkey is even baked.<br />
<br />
Just goes to show how things don't always turn out as you planned, right?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sYFh8uA2VDE/XUpMF76BqYI/AAAAAAAAJaI/cT1MVn9X-X0ZQchEM6J7TCBN8xRFIPrkgCLcBGAs/s1600/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="145" data-original-width="170" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sYFh8uA2VDE/XUpMF76BqYI/AAAAAAAAJaI/cT1MVn9X-X0ZQchEM6J7TCBN8xRFIPrkgCLcBGAs/s1600/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Welcome to the August 2019 edition of the Insecure Writers Support Group, hosted by Alex J Cavanaugh and his minions Renee Scattergood, Sadira Stone, Jaqui Murray, Tamara Narayan and LG Keltner. This month's optional question is:<br />
<br />
Has your writing ever taken you by surprise? For example, a positive and belated response to a submission you'd forgotten about or an ending you never saw coming?<br />
<br />
Well, my first short story submission received its acceptance eight months after submission, and was published nearly a year after acceptance. I had given up on the submission after three months, and forgotten the story - and pretty much lost heart in short story writing - within six months. I went back to writing on my novel, which had lots of good feedback for revision, but seemed just as hopeless for publication.<br />
<br />
When I got a call from the publisher at Bewildering Stories I was stunned into nearly speechlessness. My response was, of course "Is this a joke?" The ezine held onto the story longer than most, had many many staff discussions regarding the content (8 year old boy takes gun to school) and finally the staff decided that if it was that controversial among the staff, it needed to be published.<br />
<br />
And that started me on the path to writing and submitting controversial content. Its still scary, but I believe sometimes you gotta stretch yourself if you want to take steps to achieve your goals.<br />
<br />
Not that I always persevere, or succeed, but I am less fearful of putting my writing out there, and more accepting of disappointments. What can I say - if it can happen once, it can happen twice! And some day, that novel trilogy I'm re-working on might get traditionally published.<br />
<br />
There is hope is accepting the unexpected.dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-69031748508666708562019-07-03T03:00:00.000-07:002019-07-03T03:00:01.869-07:00IWSG: Characterizing MeHello Everyone<br />
<br />
I am happy to be back posting again with <a href="http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html" target="_blank">Insecure Writers Support Group</a>. I haven't been writing over the last couple months, so no awesome or worrisome news to report. Busy busy with the day job. But I'm taking some time off for 4th of July, and that is perfect timing to hop around the blogs. On Friday though, as I'll be working out of town today, and cooking and spending time with family on Thursday. Hope you all have wonderful Holiday plans.<br />
<br />
July's optional question is: What personal traits have you written into your character(s)?<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I think every author writes a bit of themselves into their favorite characters - be they protagonists, antagonists, or secondary/supporting characters. My hero's have traits of myself that I like (mostly) and at the least have the heroic qualities I wish I have. I have them reading my favorite books, listening to my music, consuming foods and drinks I like (or wish I could imbibe). They will have some of my quirks, expound some of my political and social views, and even occasionally raise their children as I did.<br />
<br />
The villains, of course, harbor some of my less than acceptable habits, and act on my anti-social desires. They are the ones that benefit most from my social worker studies into psychology and addictive behaviors.<br />
<br />
My secondary characters, and I think these are more often my favorites than the protagonists, have a whole list of my quirks and off center sense of humor. Their special talent is to be the voice of reason, or conscious, of the protag or antag. They keep the story theme in the reader memory, add light humor, distract from intense situations, or do the dirty work. Dirty work can be immensely fun and satisfying, lol.<br />
<br />
I think writing a touch of myself into my characters is like Alfred Hitchcock, Stephen King, and Stan Lee making minor appearances in their movies. I need to see a bit of myself in the work, as a type of reward for all the hard work of creating the worlds and characters/creatures that make it onto the page and imprint into the viewer minds.</div>
<div>
<br />
Thanks for stopping by today; I can't wait to read everyone's take on this question, and catch up on the latest blogger news.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The co-hosts joining our industrious leader <a href="http://www.alexjcavanaugh.com/" target="_blank">Alex J Cavenaugh</a> this month are: <a href="https://erikabeebe.com/" target="_blank">Erika Beebe</a>, <a href="http://www.literaryrambles.com/" target="_blank">Natalie Aguirre</a>, <a href="http://jenniferlanebooks.blogspot.com/%E2%80%9Dtarget=" target="_blank">Jennifer Lane</a>, <a href="http://mjfifield.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">MJ Fifield</a>, <a href="http://www.lisabuiecollard.com/" target="_blank">Lisa Buie-Collard</a>, and <a href="https://thecynicalsailor.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Ellen @ Cynical Sailor.</a> Please give them a heartfelt thanks by visiting their blogs and leaving awesome comments.</div>
dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-60519503235236699832019-06-15T16:26:00.001-07:002019-06-16T10:05:52.588-07:00RETREAT<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f45fGZks2lQ/XQV7y8XOtcI/AAAAAAAAJY8/6ADH641r54clD58UiM3eASFu6n0WfhHWACLcBGAs/s1600/Retreat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f45fGZks2lQ/XQV7y8XOtcI/AAAAAAAAJY8/6ADH641r54clD58UiM3eASFu6n0WfhHWACLcBGAs/s320/Retreat.jpg" width="180" /></a>Does this look like a fabulous, impromptu weekend writers retreat?<br />
<br />
That's a picture of my motel suite in Elko NV for the weekend. No cats, no cooking, no cleaning, no hubby or family interruptions. Bathroom all to myself.<br />
<br />
My plan is to get some type of writing done - and not just this blog post, lol. Tomorrow; today is mostly over, and I've been away from blogging for a couple months so I'll be visiting around for a little bit before finding somewhere to eat.<br />
<br />
I'll be back to blogging regularly in July, starting with the IWSG. I know, my name has dropped off the list. Knowing how frequently I take two month blogging breaks I doubt I'll sign up again. I still get the IWSG newsletter, and have a half baked idea for the upcoming anthology, but MG has never been my thing, so maybe I'll just work on something else and perhaps be ready for whatever next year's anthology theme will be.<br />
<br />
See y'all around. Have a great weekend.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-79721985965141787802019-04-03T00:19:00.000-07:002019-08-06T21:05:16.260-07:00IWSG: Writing WishesOh hey! <a href="http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html" target="_blank">Its Insecure Writers Support Day.</a> Ya know; first Wednesday of every month. EVERY MONTH.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vGt3Y5ul2iI/XKRUKlv0qhI/AAAAAAAAJXQ/IAg3r-UaOYIoNYRfh4-m487fNjqcq8zVACLcBGAs/s1600/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="145" data-original-width="170" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vGt3Y5ul2iI/XKRUKlv0qhI/AAAAAAAAJXQ/IAg3r-UaOYIoNYRfh4-m487fNjqcq8zVACLcBGAs/s1600/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Like, (face palm) duh, how could I forget? Well, easy peasy, for me. Not like I did not remember - nah, its like, I know its coming, I know what I need to write, I know I need to write a post, answer the question, have something to say . . .<br />
<br />
And then, POOF, the thought flits in and out of my brain. Instantly. There and gone!<br />
<br />
So I'm unprepared; writing this after 10pm Tuesday. I posted though . . right?!?<br />
<br />
April 3 question: If you could use a wish to help you write just ONE scene/chapter of your book, which one would it be? (examples: fight scene / first kiss scene / death scene / chase scene / first chapter / middle chapter / end chapter, etc.)<br />
<br />
FIRST CHAPTER!!! I have a completed trilogy (counting the two books I lost in a computer transfer and need to re-write) and just have never been happy with the first chapter of the first book. This has been through more changes than a baby in their first year of life. I've submitted the novel too many times, to all manner of Agents and publishers, and have yet to garner any interest in the novel. Its the first chapter, I'm sure.<br />
<br />
My MC is just not likeable in the first chapter - or two. She is not heroic, funny, goth/emo, bitchy. She is just - Amy. Boring, recluse, scared. Not YA angsty or dramatic. This is a Women's Fiction novel. A bit of romance triangle, domestic violence, addiction, an abusive childhood, and lots of regret and future hopes.<br />
<br />
I think the novel lacks hair flipping, furrowed brows, clenched jaws, and a first person POV. (LOL, yes, that was meant as a joke - mostly.)<br />
<br />
I read (audio book) on impulse by a novel by Tami Hoag. I have read several of her mysteries, and I like her writing style. There was an audio book staring at me the last about four months at one of my Golden Gate stores, and finally I bought it. I should have known it would be a category romance by reading the title, TAKEN BY STORM. I guess I just could not believe it would be a romance. But yeah, it was. Now, I like Tami Hoag, one of my favorite mystery authors. TAKEN BY STORM was seriously your typical category romance. All the furrowed brows; clenched jaws/fists; furrowed brows; dual hot, head jumping perspectives; main conflict a job the love bad guy won't give up, distrust of promises . . . ya know, category romance.<br />
<br />
And I'm wondering: if I really want to be Traditionally Published, do I need to adhere to all the YA/Romance lingo? Do I need to have more drama?<br />
<br />
No, I'm not disrespecting the Romance genre. I happen to like several aspects of the genre (uhm, RomComs are a secret guilty pleasure), in its various subgenre's; but I'm not sure I want to write it.<br />
<br />
And thus, the problem with rewriting the first chapter to make my main character more likeable to today's reader. Or write it as an action novel from the man's POV. Which negates the fantasy of "women writing for women, about women" category.<br />
<br />
I'd like to use this quandary for my excuse for not writing at all right now. But sadly, even I know that's pure BS.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Co6vnuvlyt4/XKRQB06vW1I/AAAAAAAAJXE/PJH62k-ahyYQ5RRX4i6250scPznfG8tvQCLcBGAs/s1600/jewel%2Bbox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Co6vnuvlyt4/XKRQB06vW1I/AAAAAAAAJXE/PJH62k-ahyYQ5RRX4i6250scPznfG8tvQCLcBGAs/s200/jewel%2Bbox.jpg" width="200" /></a>Oh yeah, the <a href="http://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/2019/03/april-wepiwsg-challenge-sign-up-jewel.html" target="_blank">WEP/IWSG linky </a>is open for the April Challenge - Jewel Box.<br />
<br />
While I'm driving, I come up with several story starts, then forget them by the time I get to a hotel and have a few minutes to think about writing.<br />
<br />
The wine and sleep usually win out.<br />
<br />
I know - I should be re-writing that first chapter instead of wishing on the magic writing Genie for a quick fix.<br />
<br />
I'm late this month for everything. It may be early in the month for most of you dedicated authors; but in my sales world, I'm a month behind. Spring is great weather wise, but it brings on a lot of extra time servicing my stores, resetting programs, counting credits for returns, restocking with tons of product. Seasonal changes are not fun, or easy. This week is worse than most others. I think. It could be normal and I'm too tired and addle brained to know any better.<br />
<br />
I'll get around to commenting this weekend. Sorry for the delay. Good think IWSG is this week and not next week or I would not be able to post/comment at all. And while I hope to write something for WEP, this and that are the only posts for this month. Its A-Z blogfest month, and this is not the time for me to make my first commitment. But congrats to all who are participating.<br />
<br />
Thanks Ninja Captain Alex, who is the IWSG creator, and his co-hosts: <a href="https://www.jhmoncrieff.com/" target="_blank">J.H. Moncrieff</a>; <a href="http://www.literaryrambles.com/" target="_blank">Natalie Aguirre,</a> <a href="http://patsy-collins.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Patsy Collins</a>, and <a href="http://hogwartssabbatical.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Chemist Ken</a>.<br />
<br />
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZbaISyL2bNc/XKRWQ3jXIAI/AAAAAAAAJXg/-QylECmfhL8SvtqLh9LH68UW38a6-M3kQCEwYBhgL/s1600/Masquerade%2BOddly%2BSuited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="268" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZbaISyL2bNc/XKRWQ3jXIAI/AAAAAAAAJXg/-QylECmfhL8SvtqLh9LH68UW38a6-M3kQCEwYBhgL/s200/Masquerade%2BOddly%2BSuited.jpg" width="133" /></a> IWSG Anthology MASCQUERADE, Oddly Suited, available April 30, 2019. <a href="http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/parallels-felix-was-here-insecure.html" target="_blank">Click here</a> for purchase links and details.</div>
<br />
<br />dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-83026285776185361202019-03-11T23:09:00.000-07:002019-03-11T23:09:05.283-07:00NARRATIVE MAGAZINE- Job OpportunityHi Peoples;<br />
<br />
This is a legitimate job opportunity at Narrative Magazine for someone with experience in publishing and web management. Not something I can take advantage of; but someone out there might.<br />
<br />
Narrative Seeks A Content Coordinator<br />
<br />
<br />
Position Description<br />
Location: San Francisco, CA<br />
Requirements:<br />
Narrative magazine seeks a motivated, outgoing, team-oriented applicant with a background in publishing and/or web management for the position of Content Coordinator. The Content Coordinator will work directly with the magazine’s editors and art director in planning and executing the magazine’s weekly presentation online and via email. The Content Coordinator will be responsible for creating and programming the magazine’s email communication and will be the point of contact for authors, agents, and publishing houses with work in the magazine. The role requires excellent organizational and written communication skills, a deep love of words and an active interest in literature, a strong internal drive toward excellence, self-motivation, an ability to inspire confidence and trust and for team play, as well as superior prioritization and time-management skills, diligence, creativity, and an appetite for challenges.<br />
<br />
Experience in marketing is a plus.<br />
<br />
Must be proficient in Adobe Dreamweaver (HTML), CSS, and Photoshop.<br />
<br />
Responsibilities:<br />
Manage all aspects of website, including home page, banners, ads, story pages, and special purpose pages, using Content Management System (CMS)<br />
Create emails communication in HTML in relation to weekly website updates, advertising, special events, and fund-raising drives<br />
Develop strategic plan for acquiring advertisements for online and email, and strengthen relationships with existing and potential advertisers<br />
Communicate with authors, agents, and publishers throughout the publication process<br />
Plan and design promotional images for the website and email<br />
Write and negotiate agreements for new content for the magazine<br />
Respond to queries from readers and provide technical support<br />
For additional details or to submit your experience for review, please send a detailed cover letter, salary requirements (a range is fine), and resume in an email with the subject line “Content Coordinator” to <a href="https://www.narrativemagazine.com/jobs?uid=76368&m=f2d51aa2203db8a4ff13f20b1801e929&d=1551218531" target="_blank">us here</a>.<br />
<br />
- - Anyway, I hope someone can take advantage of the opportunity. Good luck.dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-58571794577424488252019-03-06T03:00:00.000-08:002019-03-06T03:00:03.970-08:00IWSG: PerspectiveHi Everyone!<br />
<br />
Hope the last of Winter is treating ya'll well. Bad storms have been hitting Northern Cali, Nevada, Oregon. Seems like Winter is just revving up here. I guess I won't remember all the snow and rain when I'm enjoying all the water activities and green grass this summer. But boy, am I ready for sunshine, with or without warmth! Spring must not be too far away; that damned fruitless Mulberry in my front yard is already starting bud. I won't be complaining about the over-abundance of big green leaves this summer either.<br />
<br />
Perspective can be a fickle friend, at least in my POV. Hate the snow in winter - unless you are a snow bird) but love the run-off in summer; hate the unforgiving rain and wind in winter - love the filled levies during summer; hate the crazy drivers and slow moving traffic during the spring/summer construction months - love love love smooth easy roads on my commute that let me listen attentively to my favorite radio stations during the drive. Or a totally engrossing audio-book.<br />
<br />
I think for every one (maybe 2) drawbacks to something, you can usually find several good things. Even if those good things take a bit a patience for them to appear.<br />
<br />
Lately I've had a lot of lessons in "perspective" both through my job and with my home life. Who is the "villian" or "hero/victim" in any conversation - oral story telling - a lot of time is a matter of perspective.<br />
- Side note: if you watched the last episode of Walking Dead, where the council and Judith are all at odds with each other, you'll get a perfect example of "perspective" through several conflicts between acknowledged good guys and bad guys.<br />
<br />
But, back to the original topic, I've had to take several steps back over the last couple months and really look at things from another person's perspective. In my job, I seem to be playing moderator between our Regional Manager and a couple fellow employees (nothing like being the odd man out on both sides), and between my company and the stores I provide Rep services. Store says "yes you will take that winter stock back" and HiWay says "nope nope its a sell through, here's your new summer product to replace it." I say at my store "I'd love to return that, but HiWay won't let me." Who's the villain in all this? Nobody, policy is policy, everyone knows their role to play, everyone fights it. Fun, huh?<br />
<br />
At home . . well, lets just say I don't always have to spend a night or more at a motel in another state, but its sure easier than sitting in a room full of people who all think they are RIGHT. I can play the role of Hero in one conversation, Villain when they all want different things and I throw my hands up as I run out of viable arguments, and unwelcome instigator when I have my own perspective (opinions) to add.<br />
<br />
I'm sure YOU have been here before yourself. At work, home, and of course, juicing up your characters and plots in your writing. At least in writing, Authors know who is supposed to win an argument, and why.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H7D_8JU39uM/XH9f3fkaTfI/AAAAAAAAJWM/aIh942dd3l4bmqJKUJFWwO3Q8_D7DYpsACLcBGAs/s1600/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="145" data-original-width="170" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-H7D_8JU39uM/XH9f3fkaTfI/AAAAAAAAJWM/aIh942dd3l4bmqJKUJFWwO3Q8_D7DYpsACLcBGAs/s1600/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
This month's <a href="http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/" target="_blank">Insecure Writers Support Group</a> question is: Whose perspective do you like to write from best, the hero (protagonist) or the villain (antagonist)? And why?<br />
<br />
Honestly, lol, I love to write the Villain perspective. Maybe I'm just a natural born antagonist - always playing devils advocate in my personal/work life. I think my profession as a social worker helps me see all sides of a conflict and ~usually~ set aside my own biases. Writing the antagonist as an intelligent, passionate, likeable being is a lot of fun. I've been known to giggle maniacally while writing nefarious scenes and conversations for them.<br />
<br />
A Byronic Hero is almost as intriguing to write, but sometimes that whinning gets on my nerves. Perhaps it is a bit too close to my own personality at times. And maybe my problems with writing a Hero's perspective is - I just don't believe in true Hero's in real life. I'm a cynic. Even though I know that GOOD always, eventually, wins the overall battles. As it should.<br />
<br />
I suppose that is why all my hero's have a bit of villainy to them. Or do my villains have heoric tendencies. Like with my last flash fiction for WEP/IWSG; the true antagonists were outrageous villains, no doubt about it; but by the time my protagonist came into her powers, she killed with every bit as much blood lust as the Mayan warriors perpetrated. Aw, sweet villainy on both sides.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5J6zWHrX8Yg/XH9tv20fGzI/AAAAAAAAJWY/t4NUm-qQH9oEjesM1N4pP_0uMPm84c8yQCLcBGAs/s1600/GirlClock5_Dolorah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5J6zWHrX8Yg/XH9tv20fGzI/AAAAAAAAJWY/t4NUm-qQH9oEjesM1N4pP_0uMPm84c8yQCLcBGAs/s200/GirlClock5_Dolorah.jpg" width="200" /></a>And a bonus, I won the Encouragement Award for the <a href="http://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/2019/03/wepff-winners-post-for-28-days-february.html" target="_blank">WEP: 28 Days challenge</a>. The rewards of writing from the Antagonist perspective. Bwaahahahaha!<br />
<br />
This month's IWSG co-hosts are: <a href="http://selkiegrey4.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Fundy Blue</a>, <a href="https://beverlystowemcclure.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Beverly Stowe McClure,</a> <a href="https://erikabeebe.com/" target="_blank">Erica Bedbe,</a> and <a href="http://www.lisabuiecollard.com/" target="_blank">Lisa Buie-Collard</a>. Thank them all, and host <a href="http://www.alexjcavanaugh.com/" target="_blank">Alex J Cavanaugh,</a> with a visit. And, visit the <a href="http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html" target="_blank">IWSG linky</a> to connect with even more awesome bloggers and maybe get a lot of different perspectives on the Perspective question.<br />
<br />
Ok, as Jerry (TWD) says - "gotta bounce!"dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-56688386451010622942019-02-20T01:32:00.000-08:002019-02-20T02:09:48.969-08:00WEP: 28 DAYSHello Folks;<br />
<br />
Well, I did it; I wrote something new, lol. I've been gone from blogging so long nobody remembers my name. Boohoo!<br />
<br />
I've been working a day job, re-writing a couple novels that probably won't ever be published, and wasting time on computer games. Sorry I'm so late in publishing this; but I really didn't have a clue what to write for the WEP/IWSG prompt 28 DAYS.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H5SEvGXuDeo/XG0bdPOCXMI/AAAAAAAAJVw/j-YPeO8d6B0kUggs-yFFHbUDw6D_Sqa0ACLcBGAs/s1600/WEP%2B28%2Bdays.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-H5SEvGXuDeo/XG0bdPOCXMI/AAAAAAAAJVw/j-YPeO8d6B0kUggs-yFFHbUDw6D_Sqa0ACLcBGAs/s1600/WEP%2B28%2Bdays.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Details from the Admins:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
This prompt came up as a contest winner generated by the IWSG gang – we chose the winner from a whole bunch of creative ideas! Congratulations to long-time WEP participant, Toinette Thomas.<br />
Incorporate 28 days in your entry. It can be the time limit for a task or a challenge. The quantum of growth, a journey, a change, and/or healing that happens in 28 days. Come in with a werewolf entry. Or don’t. Tell us about some other moon phase-based folklore instead. Fashion an epistolary flash as a series of 28 diary entries or postcards. Mainstream, fantasy, romance, travel – all wide open. A lot of things can happen in 28 days!</blockquote>
<br />
<a href="http://write..edit..publish/">Write..Edit..Publish</a> joined with the <a href="http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/" target="_blank">Insecure Writers Support Group</a> last year, but this is the first time I've joined the 1000 word challenge, not just this year (this is the first publication) but since the two events combined. Its really late (or early, after 1am) and I'm too tired to add all the relevant links for this challenge. So click on the WEP link above for your hosts, judges, and the linky list of participants. I gotta be up in a couple hours to work. But don't worry my fellow participants; I will be visiting and commenting over the next few days.<br />
<br />
Title: Moon Sacrifice<br />
995 Words<br />
Full Critique Acceptable:<br />
<br />
Rough hands dragged Marta out of her satiated sleep and pulled her from the heavy cloak she’d wrapped herself in the night before.<br />
<br />
“This one’s pregnant,” a harsh male voice growled as she was hauled to her naked feet.<br />
<br />
Barely awake but instantly alert, Marta growled and attempted a fighting stance. Her dark eyes filled with red hatred, nostrils flared to inhale the scent of the enemy, and her feet . . did not stand firm on the ground. Her yelp turned into a grimace of confusion as she lost her equilibrium.<br />
<br />
“Look at the fight in her,” a jovial voice called from behind her. “Turn her around, let me see her.”<br />
<br />
Marta kicked and flailed as she was spun around, mentally and audibly growling threats of retribution for the attack on her as she snapped at the hands and ropes confining her.<br />
<br />
“Beautiful and fertile,” the apparent Mayan leader proclaimed. “She will make an excellent sacrifice to Ix Chel, and our lands will be prosperous in the next months.”<br />
<br />
One of the men holding Marta shook her and spoke angrily to the apparent leader. “Cadmael, when we return the sacrifice to Ix Chel will be over. You intend to keep her til next Waning?”<br />
<br />
“Yes Gabor,” Cadmael replied. “She shall provide much incentive for our warriors to seek out and obtain more young female conquests over the next moon phases.”<br />
<br />
Several men behind Marta howled their approval.<br />
<br />
But Gabor shook his head. “She feels, corrupt. We should kill her now, or enslave her. The Gods will not be pleased by her sacrifice.”<br />
<br />
“I shall be pleased by her captivity,” the young man holding her left arm said.<br />
<br />
Several men behind her agreed with laughter and ribald comments.<br />
<br />
“Be still, Hadwin,” Gabor said to the over eager youth. Then he turned his attention to the leader. “Cadmael, I sense a foreboding within this woman. She is . . not what she seems. No God will approve her sacrifice. I sense she will bring much suffering to our people if we do not . .”<br />
<br />
Cadmael raised a large, red painted hand and the men all fell silent. “Her fertility is apparent; she will please the Moon Goddess, and our lands will be blessed. Bind her with metal if you wish to appease your unease; but bring her alive to the Caverns of Sacrifice. I must hurry ahead and prepare for the rituals.” He raised his eyes to unseen company behind Marta and touched his fist to forehead in salute. “Keep faith,” he said, then turned and vanished at a run across the arid hills.<br />
<br />
Blood sacrifice, Marta thought, as Hadwin and Gabor lowered her to the ground and held her in place until the shackles and chains were secured around her wrists, waist and ankles. Not silver, she encouraged herself, as her senses quickly engaged.<br />
<br />
Ten warriors, all honed and accomplished, dedicated to their Mayan Gods, but more loyal to their leader Cadmael. Marva whimpered in fear while letting her limbs totally relax, forcing her captors to carry her nude and trembling body while her witch’s mind scanned the auras and environment. Ten men and metal bonds were no challenge to her wolf or witch abilities, but she sensed a restraining presence beyond the waning moon. The atmosphere was charged with urgency, an admonition to restrain her desire to escape as she drew in the living energies surrounding her.<br />
<br />
Last nights feast sat heavily within her second stomach, unnaturally distending her belly. Alert but resigned to whatever circumstances the guiding forces were leading her into, Marta relaxed between her captors, and entered a deep meditative state that would allow communication with transcendent beings.<br />
<br />
Nothing came to her during the three days of travel to the Mayan pyramid. The urgency of travel had kept her captors from defiling her during the nearly constant trek; but the lack of food, water and the waning moon quickly depleted Marta’s natural and extra sensory abilities. Despair also wormed into her senses; despair at the lack of contact with the entities that placed her in this predicament, despair at the usual loss of powers during the waning moon, despair at the lascivious thoughts bombarding her day and night without reprieve. And she wondered; how had the men, Gabon especially with his keen eyes and uncanny insights, not noticed the loss of her pregnant belly?<br />
<br />
As she was kicked and dragged into the depths of the sacrificial pyramid, Marta realized that most of her despair emanated from without herself. Locked within the dungeon, the wails of pain and distress nearly drove her insane. She felt the new moon darken and wax to the crescent, and breathed a sigh of relief as her healing powers tingled through her veins. The wails of the surrounding women turned to accolades of love as she healed broken bones, major abrasions, and shattered minds when the guards raped and tortured the sacrifices each evening. She missed her wolf skin cloak; the symbol of her rise to power within her pack and the many kills she’d made securing her position prior to her coven training; but reveled in the energies and gratitude of her captive community.<br />
<br />
Something wickedly vengeful seeped into Marta’s soul.<br />
<br />
As the weeks passed, Marta grew more and more disembodied from herself. An entity grew powerful within her, disturbing and exhilarating. The being possessing her body shared knowledge that would take centuries for Marta to learn. Yet within 28 day, Marta knew more than all her combined tutors could ever impart.<br />
<br />
The full moon brightened and energized Marta’s mind and body. She relinquished control, letting the spirit she now knew as Ix Chel assume control at the height of her season.<br />
<br />
By dawn, the heads and hearts of more than a thousand men rode the salty waves of Ix Chel’s cenote; the wails of captive women turned to laments of devotion; and Marta abandoned her wolfish origins for the hierarchy of a coven.<br />
<br />
All hail Ix Chel.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1002680784886524881.post-35819503019949570412019-01-02T03:00:00.000-08:002019-01-02T03:00:05.094-08:00IWSG: QUESTIONSHappy New Year peoples. I hope you accomplished all your NaNo and end of year goals, and had fabulous holiday parties.<br />
<br />
My goal was to do nothing, lol. And what a surprise, I accomplished it. This year I decided not to make any resolutions around writing. I seem to break all my goals, resolutions, promises. I suppose I'll continue to write occasionally as I have been. I have a couple books to rewrite - I lost two books in the original trilogy, so have been slowly recreating them as time and memory allow. Talk about a work in progress.<br />
<br />
I've also been working on a few old short stories, some of which may turn into long short stories. Gotta write sometimes to still call myself a writer!!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wBF7mwnxAJM/XB8XskXQy2I/AAAAAAAAJUI/rnlej5fHTG4fsEFemWV4yY9C6Oh4zG4ZACLcBGAs/s1600/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="145" data-original-width="170" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wBF7mwnxAJM/XB8XskXQy2I/AAAAAAAAJUI/rnlej5fHTG4fsEFemWV4yY9C6Oh4zG4ZACLcBGAs/s1600/InsecureWritersSupportGroup%2B%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I've been away from the blogs and the <a href="http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html" target="_blank">Insecure Writers Support Group</a> for a couple months, so I might be slow in getting back into the routine. Rumor has it the 2018 Anthology winners will be announced today, so be sure to visit the <a href="http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/" target="_blank">IWSG site</a>, and our host Ninja Captain <a href="http://www.alexjcavanaugh.com/" target="_blank">Alex J Cavanaugh</a>, and the co hosts <a href="https://www.patricialynne.com/blog" target="_blank">Patricia Lynne</a>, <a href="http://www.lisabuiecollard.com/" target="_blank">Lisa Buie-Collard</a>, <a href="https://kimlajevardi.com/" target="_blank">Kim Lajevardi,</a> <a href="http://selkiegrey4.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Fundy Blue </a>for the winners list. Congrats to all!<br />
<br />
This months optional IWSG question: What are your favorite and least favorite questions people ask you about your writing?<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
One of my favorites is: how do you come up with your stories? I love this question. It gets me to talking about and thinking about my writing. So often writing is a solitary, almost secret endeavor. I love talking about my passion.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Least favorite: why do you waste your time if you're not making money at it? My answer to that can be discourteous sometimes. Why do you play golf? Why do you knit? Why do you sing Karaoke? Why are you on a pool or bowling team? Why do you do anything you're not making your fortune off? I write because it makes me happy, I enjoy it. I would sure like to be the next best selling novelist and have instant fame and fortune, you betcha! But hey, if all that comes from my writing is some published short stories in free ezines and a sense of satisfaction at someone else acknowledging I'm almost as good at my hobby as I think I am, then that's good enough for me.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yep, I still work a day job and buy a Lotto ticket. Life is pretty sweet that way too.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
See y'all around the blogs</div>
dolorahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715849844092553699noreply@blogger.com29