Come on, my fellow fans of Horror! Submit your response for this week’s writing prompt–Friday the 13th Horror–to the Community Storyboard!
Author: Marie A Bailey
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Go on … Hug a blogger/writer today. It may just be what the struggling artist needs :)
…by the awesome, omnipotent power vested in me (by myself) I hereby declare the start of the HUG A BLOGGER/WRITER WEEK... the WURLD can be changed one hug at a time… and who better to be on the end of one of yer Beargrabs than a poor, neglected quill-scraper?… one of those solitary, locked-up-for-eons-in-a-virtual-candle-lit-garret producers of penned or laptop-tapped masterpieces for the reading delight of the rest of humanity… what better way to manifest yer appreciation of the expended blood, sweat, tears, computer-batteries, snow-paque typing-error-eliminators, and piles of chocolate biscuits, coffee, tea, and the occasional stronger indulgence that gobbles up a scribbler’s budget?… if ye see one in the street ye’ll recognise them immediately… usually wearing dark glasses, as the daylight is not a common feature of their existence… sometimes muttering to themselves, which in truth is merely a gaggle of dialogue among the characters of their current WURK
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Good argument for being able to describe your novel in a one sentence pitch.
Now there’s a question to get an aspiring writer sweating. Since I started writing in earnest and gradually educating myself about the world of writing, I’ve discovered there are lots of extremely important rules out there. I’m not talking about mere guidelines; I’m talking about make-or-break, tarnish-your-name-forever-should-you-break-them rules.
Naturally it is understood that anybody exceptionally talented can disregard all the rules because the brilliance of their writing will override any other considerations but it is also understood that the newbies listening to the oracle dispensing the rules do not fall into that category of genius.
Last November in the draughty bar of a Co Wicklow hotel with a British soap character giving birth at top volume on the television in the background, a friend of mine leaned across his third cup of tea and told me one of the most basic and sacred of rules of all. Figure out…
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Bridget Whelan offers great reasons for why a writer should join Twitter. It’s not just to promote your writing. Perhaps, more importantly, it’s to build community.
I know writers and readers who embrace every kind of social media but still can’t stand the thought of twitter. I wrote this two years ago on another blog and I still think it’s true…
1) You exercise your writing and editing skills. It’s hard being pithy and witty in 140 characters
2) You can find out what’s happening in the publishing industry – many (most?) publishing houses, editors, publicists and some agents tweet.
Leading London agent Carole Blake (author of From Pitch to Publication) tweets. Chances are your favourite contemporary author tweets.
3) Feel part of it – I once got tweets from a dinner table at the Booker. It was fun to know what everyone was eating or being too nervous to eat (lamb) and who won before it was on the news.
4) Make contacts and friends
5) Increase your blog readership
6) Promote your writing…View original post 266 more words
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Best news ever … Ionia beats the Big C!
For four long years the woman battled the demon. The demon known only as “C” violated her body, dimmed her future and messed with her mind.She fought this demon with the strength of her army. When she was too weak to fight, too tired to resist the demon’s advances or too negative to be positive she relied on them to battle it for her. Were she the soppy type, she might be wiping her eyes on her chain mail at the moment. *Hold on I have something in my eye…
Okay, all better.
So back to the story. The woman fought this vile beast year after year. The demon would weaken, but refuse to relent. Just when she thought it may tire and leave her be, it would come back again, stronger than ever, somewhere else.
Gathering all the love she had been storing, she forged a…
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An interesting look at spirituality and sport (golf). Read on!
By Lisa Beckelhimer, University of Cincinnati
Sport is frequently elevated to some higher meaning in American culture. Traditional sports writing, memoirs, and historical accounts can inspire readers. But so can several works of fiction, including Steven Pressfield’s mystical golf novel The Legend of Bagger Vance (1995). An athlete/tortured soul in need of salvation, his angelic or god-like mentor with the power to grant such redemption, and the mystical qualities of the sport of golf work together to create a powerful metaphor between sport and spirituality.
Pressfield’s book is often compared to Michael Murphy’s classic Golf in the Kingdom (1972), but the former screenwriter and avid golfer is better known for his military fiction. In The Legend of Bagger Vance, Pressfield explores war, but also guilt, redemption, and golf.The story follows Rannulph Junah, a broken man but also a local golf champion, as he competes with real-life champions Bobby Jones…
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It was a dark and stormy night, and Mary had called and said she was on her way, but traffic was backed up a bit. Randy didn’t want to stay at his desk for fear that some emergency might come in and he would have to attend to it. And then Mary would wind up waiting on him. He made his way past the desks of the other police officers and clerks, saying “Goodnight,” “Drive safe,” “Have a good weekend.” He was heading toward the small alcove just to the right of the front double-doors. It had a couch which faced a window and was a perfect spot to watch for Mary’s car. Tonight, though, since he expected her to be late, he decided to read for a bit.
He pulled out the ebook reader which he kept in the inside pocket of his denim jacket and switched it on. Several weeks ago Mary had told him about a collection of very short stories by Kevin Brennan which he had promptly downloaded, but had not yet read. The collection was called Our Children Are Not Our Children. Five Tiny Tales of Our Times. It was only thirteen pages, and Randy thought this would be perfect time to finally read it. He wasn’t familiar with Mr. Brennan’s work, although he had visited his blog and liked what he had read there. Mr. Brennan, he thought, had a subtle, satirical kind of humor that only very observant people seemed to have.
Randy settled back on the couch, knowing that Mary would honk as soon as she saw his image through the uncurtained window. He began to read.
After what seemed like only a few minutes, Randy closed his reader and was slipping it back into his pocket when he felt someone looking at him. He jumped when he saw Mary, her face pressed against the window. It was still raining and she looked drenched. He hurried out of the station and into Mary’s car, the engine still running and Mary laughing as she got back into the driver’s seat.
“What were you reading, Randy? I must have honked three or four times. Look at my hair! I’m soaking wet from standing outside.”
“Why didn’t you bang on the window? Or come inside?” One of the many things Randy loved about Mary was that she didn’t mind getting wet or dirty. She was a fastidious dresser and had kept many of her more expensive outfits even when her finances were on the skids, but she still had that child in her that loved to play in puddles and dance in the rain.
“I actually didn’t want to disturb you. You looked so engrossed in what you were reading. So? What is it?”
“I was finally reading that collection of stories by Kevin Brennan. You know, Our Children Are Not Our Children. Have you read it yet?”
Mary stopped at a red light and looked over at Randy. She was so looking forward to having him all to herself all weekend. They had started reading together since they both got ebook readers, sometimes even taking turns reading out loud.
“Yes, I read it just a few days ago. I was thinking we could talk about it at the book club. It’s short but, boy, does Brennan pack a lot of story into a few pages.” The light turned green and Mary turned her attention to driving.
“Yeah, I have to admit. I didn’t know what to expect. The subtitle is “Five Tiny Tales of Our Times” and so I thought the stories might be lighthearted –”
Mary snorted but kept her eyes on the slick two-lane road. “So did I. But I wouldn’t say they were dark.”
“No, they were more like slices of life, glimpses into the lives of some pretty selfish people. You got the father who refuses to pull over to the side of the road so his children can relieve themselves. And that story was done totally in dialogue.”
“Yes, I really liked that one. I mean, the structure was fascinating. I felt like I was in the car with these people, the parents yelling at each other, the children crying. I didn’t know you could get that effect with just dialogue.”
“Me too.” Randy looked out the window, silent for a moment. That particular story had reminded him of those summers when he was a child and he and his family would drive for hours down to Pennsylvania to visit his grandparents. Too many times he had almost wet his pants because his father wouldn’t pull over.
“But, I wouldn’t say all the stories were from the point of view of a selfish person. What about that one, “Overexposure,” I think, where the dad is a nudist?”
Randy smiled. “I’m glad he had that story in there. Even though I’m not sure a parent should be making his children walk around naked, the kids and their dad seemed to be less neurotic about it than the principal and receptionist.”
Mary glanced over and gave Randy a big smile. “Wanna check out my muffin seam later?” She squeezed his thigh. “I can almost see your knob –”
“Mary! Watch the road!” The car had drifted slightly toward the shoulder as Mary teased Randy, but he was laughing, squeezing her hand as he put it back on the steering wheel. Not too long ago, he would have been blushing a deep red and stammering “Wha?” if she had teased him like that. Now, he felt comfortable enough to laugh with her and admit to himself that, yes, he was looking forward to seeing her muffin seam.
“I’m sorry.” Mary caught her breath and then sighed. They were finally outside of town, the road now lined with thick stands of white pine. As she turned a corner, she could see a faint glow from the outside light of her house. Almost home. “What about the other stories? Did you like those?”
“I liked all of them. Brennan really has a gift for characterization. I’m trying to remember one line that really stuck with me.” Randy pulled out the reader and quickly found what he was looking for. “This line: “The wife is as white and particulate at the top of the stairs as a pillar of salt.” He could have said she’s as white as a pillar of salt, but he added the word “particulate” so there’s an added dimension to the description of the wife. Something that is uniquely her.”
Mary nodded. “I felt that way too. He incorporates details that make the characters stand out that much more from each other. Like in the other story, I think it was “Day Care,” where the mom works for the DMV and purposely takes bad pictures of drivers. I mean, maybe she has a boring job, but that bit of info really tells you what kind of person she is.”
Mary turned off the road and onto her driveway, toward the welcoming light beside her front door.
“And the one about the baby teeth. Oh, man, I know there are parents in the world who put themselves before their own children. You know, I read these stories not wanting to believe that any of them could possibly happen. But …”
Mary put the car in park and turned it off. They sat for a few moments, listening to the sound of the rain beating against the car, the stone path, a low, steady beat that made both of them feel suddenly sleepy.
“But, you, as a police officer, know better than anyone else that these things do happen, these families do exist. What was really interesting to me was how oblivious the parents seemed to be, how unaware they were of the impact they were having on their children.”
Randy nodded and then pulled Mary toward him. “Brennan’s a damn good writer. Thirteen pages but we’re talking about the book as if it were a full-length novel. I’d like to read more of his writing. He has a book coming out, doesn’t he?”
Mary kissed Randy lightly on the lips and then pulled away as she reached for her car keys. “Yes, he has one book already published called Parts Unknown. It’s not an ebook, but we can get a copy. Then he has another book coming out called Yesterday Road. We can check his blog when we get inside.”
Randy stopped Mary before she could open her door to get out. “Sure, we can check his blog. But only after you show me your muffin seam.”
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Disclaimer: I received a free copy of Our Children Are Not Our Children because Kevin Brennan made it available to everyone who subscribed to his newsletter.For your copy of Our Children Are Not Our Children, please visit http://kevinbrennanbooks.wordpress.com/our-children-are-not-our-children/ where Kevin has listed all the available outlets where the book is available. You’ll also have the additional pleasure of being able to listen to an audio version of “Day Care,” one of the stories in the collection.
To purchase Parts Unknown, visit http://kevinbrennanbooks.wordpress.com/buy-parts-unknown-2/
You can read Chapter 1 of Yesterday Road here: http://kevinbrennanbooks.wordpress.com/yesterday-road-chapter-1/
At the very least, do follow Kevin Brennan’s blog: http://kevinbrennanbooks.wordpress.com
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The Seed by Helen Valentine has gone global! Now available as a POD from Amazon, a Nook ebook, and other platforms. Get your copy now!
Hi
Super excited to say the final stages of the global distribution of The Seedhave now been accomplished!!! As well as Lulu.com POD and ebook, and Amazon Kindle and Apple iStore, The Seedis now available at Amazon POD and Nook. Details are:
Nook:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-seed-helen-valentina/1116528381?ean=9781483402000
Amazon POD:
More details on the novel can be found on the The Seed page above if you’ve not read about it before and you’re curious to check out my first novel. :)
Cheers
Helen V
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Here is the Ninth installment of Ten Top Lists of What Not To Do by John W. Howell of Fiction Favorites at http://johnwhowell.com and Marie Ann Bailey of 1WriteWay at http://1writeway.com. These lists are simu-published on our blogs each Monday. We hope you enjoy and Happy Labor Day.
10. If you arrive to work early, do not go into someone else’s cubicle to look for snacks even if you know they are in the top drawer and it is doubtful that anyone can see you. You may just stumble on a deep dark secret and they may have to kill you if they know you know.
9. If your boss stops by to talk to you, do not start offering excuses for your poor performance until your boss actually says your performance is poor. You may wipe out the positive comments that your boss was going to make and instead get a more critical look at your performance.
8. If your boss asks you about a co-worker, do not start a critical review before the boss actually asks for a critical review. In your boss’s mind, your co-worker may walk on water and you’ll wind up treading water.
7. If you have your annual review scheduled for the morning, do not continue to stuff your face with bean and cheese breakfast tacos until the moment of truth. You might just become a very undesirable and odoriferous office companion and the review could end before the salary increase discussion begins.
6. If you are going out to lunch with your boss, do not order spaghetti or ask for a doggie bag for whatever you do order. If the former, you just may wind up looking like you have been to a tomato pie eating contest; with the latter, your boss may wonder if you are supplementing your food stamp program with carry outs.
5. When asked to work late, do not demand carry in food and drink. You may just may get the reputation as someone who is so focused on food that you cannot live an extra hour beyond the dinner hour, which will not go unnoticed next time.
4. When asked to travel on business, do not take this as an opportunity to live beyond your means. Just because you are not paying the bill is no reason to act like a rock star and order room service ten times a day and trash your hotel room. You could be asked to pay the money back which would make you an indentured servant to your firm for years to come.
3. When taking someone to dinner on company credit, do not let it be known that the sky’s the limit on food and drink. It could be the person you take to dinner may just have a spare family or two that they are supporting and will most likely order enough to feed them all.
2. When asking for a raise, do not talk about how much you need the money or how much others are making in relation to you. It just could be your boss might think you are not worth what you are currently being paid and give your share to those who he thinks are more worthwhile.
1. When attending the company annual Christmas party or picnic, do not feel you need to tell everyone exactly what you think of them even if you have been over-served and really think it is the right thing to do. Wait until the next day to make your statement when everyone is too hung over to care.
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Maggie had just put down her ebook reader when Mary slipped into the booth, seating herself across from Maggie. She nodded at Maggie’s Kobo.
“Am I that late?” She opened the menu that was lying in front of her and turned her attention to the long list of omelets. The Omelet Factory was a new restaurant in their tiny town, offering 50 choices that included such exotic fare as brie and porcini mushroom omelets, caper, salmon, and cream cheese omelets, smoked Gouda and green olive omelets. The latter was Maggie’s guilty pleasure, but Mary was determined to try each and every one.
“OK, last week I had the anchovy and mozzarella, so today … ”
A young waitress appeared at their table, wearing cutoff jeans, a white tube top, and an emerald green apron. She had dirty blonde hair and a slim figure, and would have been considered rather nondescript except for the trellis of roses that were tattooed from one wrist, up her arm, across her creamy white chest, down the other arm and ending at the other wrist. Mary didn’t look up so Maggie turned to her and smiled.
“I’ll have the Gouda and green olive. Mary?”
“It’s the goat cheese and prosciutto for me today. And a pot of coffee for two.” The waitress walked away still scribbling on her pad. Maggie noted that her back was sprinkled with tattoos of miniature roses. Mary sat back, sipping the now tepid coffee that had been poured when Maggie first arrived. She nodded again at the Kobo.
“So, what are you reading?”
“Oh, I just finished Beyond Dusk: Anne by Sarah M. Cradit. You know, the author of St. Charles at Dusk. That novel that we all liked so much.”
“Oh?” Mary leaned forward. Since she and her cousins had started their book club, she had rediscovered the joy of reading. Then when Randy bought her a Kindle Paperwhite for her birthday, she went a little nuts, downloading several ebooks a day until she realized that she was spending more time downloading than she was reading. Still, she was always on the lookout for more.
“Yes, I remember that book. I loved it! We all did, right? So is this a sequel? I thought she already had a sequel called The Storm and the Darkness? Is this different?”
The waitress dropped off a pot of coffee and Maggie poured for each of them as Mary bombarded her with questions. She managed to keep herself from smiling at Mary’s excitement. This was a part of her cousin that she really enjoyed, sharing a mutual enthusiasm for books and their authors.
“No, this is not a sequel. Actually, she calls it a novelette. It’s quite a quick read.”
“You read it while waiting for me?”
“No, it’s not that quick.” Maggie had to laugh. Mary had been quite late, but Maggie had been glad for the time to finish the novelette since she had only started it the night before. “It’s about 52 pages on my reader. You can easily read it in one sitting, and you will want to do that. You won’t want to put it down.”
“So you liked it. What’s it about if it’s not a sequel?” Both Mary and Maggie sat back as the waitresses put their plates in front of them. For a moment, they were both distracted by the hot savory aroma of the omelets. Each omelet came with a side of herbed home fries and a basket of whole wheat toast. It was enough food to keep them happy and satisfied until supper.
“It’s about Anne Fontaine, Adrienne’s half-sister from St. Charles at Dusk. She comes to New Orleans to find Adrienne, to talk to her. The thing is, Oz and Nicholas … you remember, Adrienne’s husband and brother … don’t initially trust her. They think she’s an impostor after Adrienne’s money. Well … ” Maggie paused to shovel some creamy omelet into her mouth.
“Oh, that’s really interesting. She’s writing backstory for the other characters? What a neat idea! I was left wondering about the Fontaines when I finished St. Charles. It seemed like there was so much to say about them, a whole other family line to study.” Mary proceeded to tuck into her omelet.
“Well, I guess that’s why she decided to write Anne, and I believe she’s going to write more novelettes about the other Fontaines. So, the thing is that Anne has certain powers, supernatural powers that she’s only recently discovered. That puts an interesting twist on the story. Not to mention that Nicholas actually tries to set her up, entrap her because he doesn’t believe she’s really his sister.”
“Does he fall in love with her?” Mary leans forward, a wicked smile on her face. “He’s a bit of an arrogant bastard. I mean, I like him, I understand why he has issues. Still, I’d like to see him get put in his place.”
“Well …” Maggie returned Mary’s wicked smile with one of her own. “I’m not saying. You’ll have to read it. It’s worth it, really. Sarah really knows how to build suspense and … and … steam.” Maggie started to laugh, her face flushing with a rosy pink. Mary gave her a big smile.
“We do like our steamy scenes, don’t we.” For a moment, the two cousins fell into silence. Mary thought about Randy and how she often had to seek him out after reading a particularly erotic scene. Maggie thought of her late husband and wondered if she would ever again have someone to turn to when she felt aroused.
“So!” Mary broke the silence after seeing her cousin’s face change from a schoolgirl’s embarrassment to a wistful sadness. “You recommend I read this, correct?”
“Oh, most definitely! Both Anne and Nicholas are strong characters and it’s great to see their stories get more time and attention. Plus I really like the mysterious history of the Deschanel family. We get to meet another member of the family, Aunt Colleen, who is a matriarch of sorts. Sarah is an excellent storyteller, and the story actually can stand on its own. She gives just enough info about Oz and Adrienne that you don’t have to have read St. Charles, but you would want to if you hadn’t already.”
“How does it end? Happy, I hope!”
“Well, you really should read it for yourself, Mary.” This was one major difference between them: Mary didn’t mind spoilers, but Maggie hated them. She loved the discovery part of reading, and she could never find it within herself to give away too much. “I’ll just say, it’s happy enough, but the ending leaves room for more to happen. You’re not going to put it away and say, “OK, now I’m done with the Deschanel.” You’ll want more.”
“So we’ll just have to read The Storm and the Darkness next, right?”
“Exactly!” The cousins tapped their coffee cups in a toast, drank, and then refocused their attentions onto their cooling but still delicious omelets.
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Disclaimer: I received a free copy of Beyond Dusk: Anne in exchange for an honest review.
For your own copy of Beyond Dusk: Anne as well as other works by Sarah M. Cradit, visit any of these websites:
Barnes and Noble (Beyond Dusk: Anne not currently available at B&N but you can find St. Charles at Dusk and The Storm and the Darkness here)
Smashwords (Currently only St. Charles at Dusk is available here)
Goodreads (for a list of stores as well as great reviews)
Marie at 1 Write Way 