Guests, Gardening, and Getting prepared

August is here already. That means NaNoWriMo preparation has begun.

Pfft, Prepare? Me? Ha. I mean for my region. (Though I will admit, champion pantser that I am, I'll be working on a YA novel I recently started editing that I gave up on during NaNo years ago. It still needs a middle and and end. And I know where it's going now. Egads, does that mean I've planned for once?)

I've created this year's sticker, the word count chart, a character creation game for the kick off party, sorted give away prizes and silent auction items. I've even considered doing a couple small crafty projects. I haven't had time for those in a while, so I'm rather excited to get my hands covered in glue and paint.

While I occasionally remember to stalk my submissions, I'm keeping busy with projects around the house. Now that we're all settled in, there's all the little things, like sealing the grout for all the floor tile, caulking the guest room tub, finding homes for the few things left in boxes, finishing up the stone work on the front of the house, installing the railing on the deck, and landscaping. That last one is my favorite. I've been waiting anxiously. Since last fall. I'm really sick of waiting. Today, the last load of top soil arrived, so barring rain, I'll be spending my weekend playing in the dirt.

As far as writing, I haven't started anything new lately. I'm waiting on edits on three shorts and a novel, all of which could arrive in my inbox anytime and two of them will require a quick turnaround. Best to save my limited writing time for when I really need it and enjoy expending my creative energy on other pursuits for just a little while.

July passed by in a blur of fun. We had a great time hosting our Spanish guest, who gave us the perfect excuse to visit places around town we hadn't been to in years. Our daughter got to have a month of mostly vacation that we would have otherwise worked through and maybe done one or two things as time allowed. Funny how having a stranger in your house makes you spend so much more time together as a family, and I was surprised how attached we got to her in the few weeks she was here. Sending her off wasn't easy, but we would definitely host another student next year if asked.

For now, I'll leave you with this week's Author's Answer: What scenes do you find difficult to write?

Oh look, a post for July

The blog has been quiet, but I haven't forgotten you. July has been full of doing things!

Our exchange student has been keeping us busy. Or we're keeping her busy. Or both. We spent a long weekend up by Sleeping Bear Dunes, burning our feet on hot sand, catching a little sun (I'd rather forgotten what sitting under that large burning orb felt like), and hiking around South Manitou Island (aka, dodging mosquitos and snakes). We've played local tourist in our own town and others nearby. We've eaten far more ice cream than necessary (yes, there is a necessary amount). And we've done a lot of driving (just 575 miles in the past few days). With only two weeks left, we're trying to pack in as much fun as we can.

Editing. The last couple chapters of A Broken Race are proving to be challenging and my tired brain isn't cooperating. Deadlines are looming.

And now we've come to the part of the post where I can announce my happy news. My short stories Mother and Giving Chase have been accepted into Caffeinated Press's second Brewed Awakenings anthology. Look for it out in print and e-book this fall.

And, of course, I can't close out this post without a dose of Author's Answer. This week: Sex. How do you write it?

Summer is here. Sanity is somewhere over there.

It's June, and that means its lovely outside in my little corner of Michigan. Am I out enjoying every minute of it? Sadly, no.

Why? I'm neck deep in edits of A Broken Race. 102 suggested points from the editors to conquer. Most aren't all that significant in terms of big changes, others add require diving deeper into backstory groundwork while dancing on the delicate tightrope that stretches across the valley of info dump. I have about a week left to finish up.

 We have to take four more small trees out to finally get our business drive put in at the end of the month (yes, also a week away). This means that our towering brush pile mountain from all the other small and dead trees that have come down over the past couple years here, had to be reduced before it turned into a brush mountain range. We burned for three straight days and got it down to a more manageable 'pile' designation...until those four trees come down.

 Then there was the deck fiasco. Let's sum it up by saying I have a deck now. It wasn't built by the original contractor we hired and it was weeks late. It doesn't currently have a railing because the home improvement store ordered the wrong one and now we have to wait three more weeks for the right one. We can't get the deck approved without the railing, which means we can't use it as getting all the stuff out of the garage that is meant to go on the deck so that I might be able to finally park inside. I spent way too much time returning wrong and extra stuff, ordering the right stuff, and on the phone trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

 Work on the outside of the house continues. In this month's installment, I'm working on the rock areas. This means I'm getting a workout, hefting 80lb bags of mortar and hauling buckets of said substance up ladders to slap it on the metal lath we installed last month. Next up: rocks.

A conversation with a friend led to something I've been wanting to try and now we have room for. We're hsting an exchange student for a month. So I spent some time cleaning up ou spare room, buying a bed and all that goes with it and making functional room in the closet I'd intended to use for storage. Since we're supposed to show her around our area, this gave me the nudge I needed to plan our family vacation. Cabin reserved, sights to see have been noted and arrangements for pets have been made.

And yes, that means she'll be arriving in a week and then we'll be busy showing her around.

In between the rocks, trees, and railing projects... Which means I better get back to those edits.

I'll leave you with the latest Author's Answer, where we discuss the writing process.

I'm watching

With life as busy as it has been the past year and some, time together as a couple has pretty much become spending the last waking hour or so each night watching television on the same couch. When we break this cycle, the dogs become angry. We don't want to anger the dogs, who love this quiet snuggle time. And, you know, as a couple, we appreciate quiet snuggle time too.

I'd intended to keep better track of what was before my eyes over the past several months, but I'm just going to come out and admit that I didn't. Why? After a long busy day, I'm busy trying to stay awake to watch the end of whatever we started when I was wide awake.

We'll go down the list until my memory gives out.

Game of Thrones: I'm up to date on this series, and while it still makes me blurt out, "Hey, that wasn't like that in the book!" on occasion, I do appreciate that even though I've read the books, I don't exactly know what's going to happen next, or at the very least, the details of how it's going to get from one important point to the next. This whole season has been my favorite since the red wedding episode. This is a series I have no problem staying awake though each episode.

Wayward Pines: We're having a great time trying to guess what the hell is going on. Speculating has become an off the couch, wandering throughout our day, tossing out theories kind of sport. There's generally enough going on with this show to keep me awake.

Arrested Development Season 5: After binge-watching the first four seasons, we awaited the fifth with anticipation. Then were too busy to watch it. We started to watch it recently, and I honestly haven't stayed awake for a single half hour episode. I can't tell you what happened. I can't even remember enough to guess. However, if I ever have a night of insomnia, I know the cure.

Last Man on Earth: The show started off as amusing, but now that the season has ended, the novelty has worn off.

Quick Draw: If you loved Brisco County Jr (as I do), this show is probably for you. There are some terrific one-liners and the humor is quite adult. So far nothing has topped the episode that made laugh until I cried as the town dealt with the death of Honey's cousin aunt.

Bosch: The first episode of this gritty cop detective series nearly lost me due to the cliches and stiff acting, but it got better and the season ended on a satisfying note so I'll be watching for the next one.

Mad Men: The series wrapped up fairly well. I can't say that I was disappointed nor did I expect detailed happily ever afters or where are they nows from a show that spend the last few seasons with all of it's characters in the chaos of their self-made craptastic lives. I was left fulfilled, which is more than I can say for most series endings.

Walking Dead: I stay awake for survivors outliving zombies and the living who are far worse threats than the dead. I didn't know what to make of this past season at first, but it ended with a satisfied smile.

Jurassic Park: When we heard there was going to be a new movie, we resurrected the first one and made our kids watch it too. Family time! It was just as good as I remembered it.

Jurassic Park 2: Mostly as I remembered it, but the plot seemed much thinner now that the novelty of 'OMG there are dinosaurs!' has worn off.

Jurassic Park 3: I didn't know this existed until we heard there was a forth on the way and looked up the old movies. In summary: People are idiots. Oh, and Pterodactyls!

Project Almanac: Time travel. High school kids. Interesting idea, but meh.

What We Do in the Shadows: I had high hopes. I loved Flight of the Conchords, and for the most part, I like vampires (as long as they don't sparkle). Alas, my love with this vampire mockumentary movie was not meant to be.

Ex Machina: AIs, a very weird programming genius living off the grid and the nerdy guy who thinks he knows what was best. Though it dragged a little in the middle, the end was worth it.

The Maze Runner: Boys with amnesia who are stuck in the middle of a giant ominous maze. They run through it. In the end, they find the way out and there are people who pick them up and take them somewhere. Yep, that's it. Tune in to the next movie to find out why, and if these people are good or bad. Maybe. But probably not until the end of the trilogy. I wouldn't watch the next one. This ending pissed me off.

John Wick: If you wished The Matrix had dropped the plot entirely and was a movie about Keanu Reeves playing a guy who kills people left and right with guns and his fists, your wish has been granted. Me, I'll go for something with a plot, thanks.

Interstellar: Despite staring Matthew McConaughey, which just didn't work for me in a science fiction movie, I quite enjoyed this one. The earth is kicking the human's off by destroying their means of growing food. Who and how many can be saved and where do they go?

Welcome To Me: Would you like to take a nap? Do you have laundry to fold or toilet to clean? You should do that rather than watching this movie unless you are utterly exhausted to a point you can not get off the couch (in which case, that nap is still the better option).

Big Hero 6: Cute and tolerable for a movie aimed at kids. Our teens enjoyed it.

Chappie: Holy Expletive! While I have no issue with the occasional use of profanity, the language in this movie was grating. Robots, AIs, rubber chickens, cops and lots of bullets fired. Entertaining, but would have been much better with less carpet F-bombing.

Outlander: I kept seeing this show all over Facebook, usually accompanied by giddy squeals of delight. The series had good ratings so we figured we better check it out. Portal time travel romance with a highlander? Sign me up. I was not disappointed. This shows was watching a romance novel as it should be done. The season even ended on a satisfying (albeit, predicable if you've read a handful of romance novels) note. I'll be watching for the next season.

Guest Blogger: Nick Wilford

Thanks for hosting me on the final day of my tour, Jean. Today, in contrary fashion, I’m going back to the beginning to bring your readers the opening from my novella, A Change of Mind.

“Hey Reuben, my main man, pass me that stapler, will you?”

The loud, abrasive voice of Guy Borderman jackknifed into me as I blew on my hot milky tea, causing me to spill some on my trousers. I cursed silently, not wanting to bring further attention to myself, and rested the mug on my desk before picking up the stapler and making the journey to Borderman’s desk as nonchalantly as I could.

As it was getting on towards five o’clock, I had hoped Borderman would give me a break today. No such luck. It wasn’t so much the humiliation, but the hit to my pocket that really grated.

I dropped the stapler on Borderman’s desk, not looking the hulking brute in the eyes, and quickly turned to leave, praying the next part would be left out.

“Got any plans tonight, Rubes?” barked that faux-jovial voice as I was halfway back to my desk. I turned, looked at Borderman’s self-satisfied grin, and raised my shoulders slightly in a shrug that felt more like a gesture of surrender. I wasn’t sure why Borderman still made the effort. Everyone already knew I was a massive loser, and most barely looked up from their work.

It was too late today, but tomorrow I would have to request a new stapler, essential for my work, at a cost of £4.99, consuming both my time and money. And at some point, this new item would be “borrowed” by Borderman before disappearing forever into a black hole. This had happened nearly every day I was at work for the past two years.

At five o’clock, I put on my jacket, checking the pockets to find that thankfully there was no glue or other unsavoury items today, and left the office to walk to the bus stop. It started to rain in a torrential downpour that felt like some sort of water-based apocalypse. The bus approached, headlights like hazy red suns glimpsed through the rain. Then I noticed the “Full” sign.

Rather than wait half an hour and take a chance on the next bus having a seat, I started to squelch in my sodden shoes towards home. On the way I passed the Rose and Crown, as I had many times before, always wondering what it was like inside. Rather than continue wading through what felt like a sea with holes in it, I decided this might be an appropriate time to find out.

After all, it was my birthday.

* * *

Title: A Change of Mind and Other Stories

Page/word count: 107 pages, approx. 32,000 words

Publisher: Superstar Peanut Publishing

Author: Nick Wilford

Genre: Speculative fiction

Format: Ebook only

Release date: 25th May 2015

A Change of Mind and Other Stories consists of a novella, four short stories and one flash fiction piece. This collection puts the extremes of human behaviour under the microscope with the help of lashings of dark humour, and includes four pieces previously published in Writer’s Muse magazine.

In A Change of Mind, Reuben is an office worker so meek and mild he puts up with daily bullying from his boorish male colleagues as if it’s just a normal part of his day. But when a stranger points him in the direction of a surgeon offering a revolutionary new procedure, he can’t pass up the chance to turn his life around.

But this isn’t your average surgeon. For a start, he operates alone in a small room above a mechanic’s. And he promises to alter his patients’ personality so they can be anything they want to be…

In Marissa, a man who is determined to find evidence of his girlfriend’s infidelity ends up wondering if he should have left well alone.

The Dog God finds a chink in the armour of a man with a megalomaniacal desire to take over the world.

In The Insomniac, a man who leads an obsessively regimented lifestyle on one hour’s sleep a night finds a disruption to his routine doesn’t work for him.

Hole In One sees a dedicated golfer achieving a lifelong ambition.

The Loner ends the collection on a note of hope as two family members try to rebuild their lives after they are torn apart by jealousy.

Purchase Links:
Amazon US / Amazon UK / Smashwords
B&N
Kobo
Add it on Goodreads

Meet the author:

Nick Wilford is a writer and stay-at-home dad. Once a journalist, he now makes use of those rare times when the house is quiet to explore the realms of fiction, with a little freelance editing and formatting thrown in. When not working he can usually be found spending time with his family or cleaning something. He has four short stories published in Writer’s Muse magazine. Nick is also the editor of Overcoming Adversity: An Anthology for Andrew. Visit him at his blog or connect with him on Twitter or Goodreads.

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What better way to spend a long weekend

...than reading! It's been quite awhile, but I finally managed most of three days of downtime to read. This wasn't for lack of other things I should have been doing, but fate decided to smack me upside the sinuses with a major cold, thereby giving me a valid pass to hang out on the couch. And hang out I did. I can't remember the last time I sat in one place for so long.

My congested head required lite reading, so I went for my usual (lately, it seems) romance-related fare. In three days I devoured Sherrilyn Kenyon's Born of Fire and Bad Moon Rising. Got to love a writer that really knows how to put her characters through hell, literally and figuratively.

That's over 1000 pages between critiquing a short for a friend, spending half a day moving the last of our stuff from the garage and shed of our previous home, and several hours at two home improvement stores ordering everything we need for the deck that needs to be built in order to finish out our building permit.

Good thing I had to go that other stuff or I probably wouldn't have picked up my head from a third book long enough to spend time with the rest of my sick (we all got the cold) family. I was even a good little citizen and attended our local memorial day parade...because I had to transport my son there to play in the school band. Several people I've run into since have commented on seeing me there, but not stopping over to say hi "because it looked like you were really into reading your book." I did put it down once the parade started, honest. I was doing them a favor, warding them away from my cold germs.  

Now, with my sci-fi and were-creature fixes sated, I can get back to trying to figure out this short I've been fighting with. Yes, that means I still don't have that darn thing finished and I'm running out of time.

No Thanks

I seem to be a slump lately, which may seem odd being that I've been announcing published stories for the last few months. Most of those were also sold months ago. In fact, one was sold over a year ago that has yet to actually make it into print. This slump means that I'll have nothing lined up to announce for a while and that's a bit depressing given how well things were going.

Not that rejections are a bad thing. It just means I haven't found the right market for the story yet. The  five shorts currently in my submission juggling routine are good. Not that I'm trying to sound over confident, but I do believe in them. They're good stories. I've pulled a couple others that I feel were rejected with merit and need some further tweaking before they return to submissions. They'll return soon.

Sitting here in my slump, it seems fitting that I revisit a few thoughts on rejection.

Don't take them personally. Yes, they can be depressing. Someone didn't find your baby as cute as you think it is. Writing is subjective and there are a lot of markets out there. As long as you still believe in your story, keep looking for the right one. 

Some of rejections are a long time coming. Don't spend your time watching your inbox for a response. Spend your time writing your next story. And then submit that. And write something else. It's not uncommon for responses to take three months and playing that 'I made it to the three month mark' doesn't mean a darn thing. I've found that submissions that significantly go over the expected response date are more often than not for a reason and it's not good. It's either A - the submission has been lost or B - the market died. And yes, that last one happens more often that I expected, so it's not a bad idea to check up on the market and to send out an email to check the status of the submission, especially if it's not a sim sub market. No need to have your story sitting out there in the cold doing nothing.

Find sim sub markets when possible so your story can be multitasking while it's out there in the big wide world. If none of those are a good fit, look for markets with good turn around times, such as weeks rather than months. If my story isn't a good fit, I'd much rather know sooner than later. 

Don't over think the form rejection. It's a form rejection. It's not a secret code. It's simply a no thanks. Send the story somewhere else. 

Appreciate personal rejections but don't fixate on them. Remember, this is all subjective. Like any critique, read it, digest it and apply the tweaks your gut agrees with. 

Most importantly: a rejection will only become an acceptance when you find the right market. Keep submitting. 

This week's goal

Now that A to Z is over and I've taken a little time to catch my blogging breath, it's time to get back into the weekly routine. Weekly should be easier to manage that daily, right? Right. In theory.

Let's start with where things are in my writing world... because that's what I need to cover for some self accountability this week.

Waiting on developmental edits on A Broken Race. Meeting on these has been pushed to early June, which works for me because I still have to...

Finish The Unmaking of Dennis Gilroy for an anthology submission that is due by the end of May. I'd meant to have it done two weeks ago, but time keeps slipping through my fingers. And I'm not even talking about procrastinating or having fun rather than writing. I'm talking days like yesterday when I worked from 8:30am to 10pm with breaks for running kids to appointments and to school. At least I got to watch the latest episode of Game of Thrones before collapsing into bed.

I spent what little writing time I did have last week editing Sipper down from 5,900 words to 5,000 words for another anthology that asked for a tighter version to fit their word limit. The first 600 words weren't that bad, but the second pass to find those last 300 was tough. Talk about making the remaining words work hard to hold everything together. Whew! We'll see how the story works at the shorter length when that fateful email comes in.

Goal for this week: Finish the Dennis story.
Extra credit: Edit and submit it.

Pretty things

Never have I considered myself a girly girl, but I do enjoy a few pretty things. Sometime around my late twenties I gave up my love for wild earrings, sparkly necklaces and multiple bracelets. That sometime probably coincided with having kids. Since then, you can find me wearing the same necklace for months in a row and the same earrings for years. Bracelets are an on occasion only because they really get in the way for typing and working. The one things that truly remains constant are my rings.

I've always been a little hard on rings, but I love them, and through children, gardening, messy jobs and all life throws at me, I refuse to give them up. I've worn this collection for the past seventeen or so years. Then, within a month, this all happened: 

Not only did building a house take it's toll on my legs and back, my rings suffered. Other than when I was working with mortar or grout, which was really messy stuff, I wore my usual rings. As of this morning, I'm down to two undamaged rings and both of those are simple bands, though, one is hematite -which I've shattered several of in the past- and I wouldn't put it past this one to shatter at any moment. 

I wore a hole in my pearl. I smashed my hand loading heavy stock onto equipment for work and ripped the sapphire out of the second ring. (My hand is fine, thanks for asking, and I found the stone.) I smashed my hand arranging tables in my new work space and lost the diamond from my wedding ring. Searches have not turned up the diamond. Please join me in a rousing chorus of "Doh!"  The last one I caught on a table while setting up for my hopefully last ever annual garage sale and bent it so far out of shape that it now looks like a potato chip. 

Someone has to keep the jewelry repair people busy.

If it's heavy, awkward or large, I'll lift it and I'll move it. I'll do it myself thank you very much. I hate asking for help and even more, I hate waiting for help. 

And this is why I have a hard time writing female characters of the gentle, soft, and proper persuasion. 

A to Z in review

Another year of April A to Z has come and gone. I'm happy to report that I'm still as sane as I was when the month began. Take that for what you will.

First off, I'd like to thank devoted word donors, Nick, David and Hillary. You left me lots of challenges to work with, and I appreciate the time you took to pop over from your own busy blogs to do so.

I'd also like to thank every one of you who dropped by throughout the month with word donations. Having such an array of words to work from each day made this challenge fun, even on my long and hectic days and inevitable Sunday catch up sessions.

Some days yielded a paragraph or two, others grew longer as I traveled where your words took me. Three of my favorites this month were:

D - became a short I titled Water.
R - was a popular post (according to visits) about roses
M - made me laugh, and I always enjoy when I can make myself laugh. It was a silly, exhausted laughter, but it still counts. Enjoy the many multiple M words in the Muffin Loving Moose

If you donated words, I have added each day's story start to the bottom of the post for that day. Please drop in and enjoy. Sometimes a story took a direction where that wasn't possible, but I did try to use them all when I could.

So what's next? Usually, I'd be jumping into A Story a Day In May, but I'm waiting on edits for A Broken Race, which should be in mid-month, and I have a short and a novella I'm in the middle of so I'm set on projects for the moment. And then, of course, there's all those story starts from April if, by some miracle, I happen to have some spare time and need something to work on.

Now that April is over, what will you be working on?

A to Z: Beginnings Z

We've reached the end! Hooray!

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.


YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.

WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with Z words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

~*~

Hank backed away from the lion. "A little help here, Stanley?"

"You're the one who wanted to be zoologist," said Stanley as he also made his way to the door of the enclosure. "You're supposed to know lions, right?"

"I read about them. I've never actually been this close to one."

"You might have mentioned that before we broke into the zoo."

The lion stalked forward, it's head low and eyes intent.

"Maybe it wants something to eat."

"I don't think the lion cares about the zucchini I stole from the vegetable stand on the way over. I told you, I got that for my mother."

Stanley laughed nervously, "You've told me zillions of things, like that you knew all about lions. You zany loser, you're going to get us both killed."

The lion sprang.

A to Z: Beginnings Y

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.


YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.

WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.


Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with Y words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

~*~

Tamara pulled her yellow cloak tighter as she huddled in the field of yarrow. The distant yell of the yeti echoed through the surrounding mountains. Moments later the yodel of a female answered. Only the most daring of the gatherers dared ventured into the fields during mating season and Tarmara was determined to be counted as one of them.

A to Z: Beginnings X

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.


YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.

WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.


Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with X words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

~*~

"I'm sorry, Xerxes, but the X-Ray doesn't look good." The doctor pointed to the dark pots on his leg bones. "We're going to have to amputate before it spreads."

"You can't do that! He needs legs. Everyone needs legs," Xerxes' mother said in a shrill voice that sent more chills down his spine than the doctor's announcement had. "You'll find a way to fix it."

"Ma'am, there's nothing be to be gained by emulating Xanthippe," said the doctor.

Xerxe's mother scowled. "What did you call me?"

"Clearly you're not a fan of Socrates." He consulted the medical files on his computer. "When I was in college, I studied Socrates and medicine. See, I went to school for this sort of thing." He pointed at the x-ray. "I know what I'm doing. And I know that not amputating his legs now, will mean the death of him."

"But he has to finish reconstructing the xebec for the exhibition next month. If he doesn't finish, he'll lose his funding. The museum won't have the focal piece we need and the exhibition will be a disaster. That disaster will cost me my job." 

She stood up to her full six foot two height and glared down her long slender nose at the doctor. "You'll find another way, and you'll get him back to work by Monday. Do I make myself clear?"

A to Z: Beginnings W

After a very productive weekend with around the house work - as in I'm still moving stuff from the garage and shed at our old house to the new one, yes, two months after moving out, and we still have a ton of stuff there to move - I'm still playing catch up on story starts and visiting blogs. If I haven't been over to visit yet, I promise I will very soon.

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.


YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.

WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.


Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with W words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

~*~

As a wizard, Wilbur was used to wandering, keeping out of reach of those who didn't appreciate his gifts and seeking out those who did. On this particular morning, he found himself before a river, watching a family of ducks waddle into the water. The unseasonably warm weather left him feeling like a leaf of wilting lettuce, but dipping his bare feet into the water offered welcome relief. A leaf caught in the current spun around his feet like a whirligig.

He stroked his long white beard and evaluated the land. The villagers nearby had planted an abundance of wheat. The river had enough of a current to support a water wheel. With his wealth of wisdom, he could help them build a mill. They would thank him and welcome him and maybe he could finally settle down. He might finally escape the whammy Harold had put on him forty-three years ago.

A stone hit him in the head. Then another. "Get out of here," a man yelled. More stones pelted him.

There seemed to be no escape from Harold.

A to Z: Beginnings V

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.


YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.

WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.


Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with V words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

~*~

Violet stared into the mirror, making faces at the ashen-faced girl with narrow green eyes. Some might have accused her vanity, sitting in front of the mirror for hours as she often did, but that wasn't it at all. The only way to prevent the violence the girl in the mirror promised to reek upon the earth, was to watch her, to make sure she remained visible. It was the times when she couldn't be seen that bad things happened.

Why didn't her parents understand that the days spent at school, the two hours a week they dragged her off to piano practice, even the minutes they demanded she spend doing her chores, those cost lives. The girl in the mirror didn't have any of those obligations. As far as Violent knew, she didn't even have parents.

Her mother yelled something from downstairs. The girl's eyes narrowed even further, glinting with malice as she waved Violet away. Violet turned up the volume on her music and blinked only one eye at a time, always keeping the girl in view.

A to Z: Beginnings U

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.


YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.

WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.


Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with U words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

~*~

He stood beside the black swirling stream, watching the wooden boat and its lone robed skeletal passenger drift away. The blood gushing from the gaping hole in his stomach had ceased, a fact for which he was most grateful. He'd never been good around blood. The first glance of it splashing over the ax that had embedded itself in his gut had made him queasy. The manic grin on the face of the wielder of the ax had finished him off. The war was lost.

Without a prince, the kingdom would fall into madness. There would be no hope for unification with the south. His destiny in the living world unfulfilled, the prince tucked his intestines back inside his uniform and traveled downward along the well worn path to see what death might have in store for him.

A to Z: Beginnings T

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.


YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.

WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.


Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with T words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

~*~

The totem bearing a likeness to a tarantula fell into her hands. A shudder ran though her body, settling in her stomach like a swarm of bees. Of all the spirit guides to choose from in the basket, why this one? The rest of the acolytes in the circle stared at her, their eyes wide, hands wrapped around the safe totems that had chosen them.

"Treason," said the priest in the middle of the circle. He pointed at her.

Ringing filled her ears and the cave grew black around the edges as if the candles lodged on the ledges had suddenly lost their will to shine.

The circle began to collapse, everyone reaching for her. She ran. Ran out of the cave, past the tents they has slept in the night before. Past the tree where the goat they had sacrificed that morning still hung. Past the two standing stones that marked the sacred place they'd come to discover who they would be. And all the while, clutched in her hand was the totem.

A to Z: Beginnings S

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.


YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.

WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.


Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with S words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

~*~

Silence blanketed the sunny seashore wrapping Norma in a relaxing trance that had nearly sucked her into sleep when a scream shattered the moment. She spun around, searching for the woman who had made such a heart-wrenching sound. The body caught her attention before she found the source of the scream. A man, face down in the water, wearing a seersucker suit.

She leapt to her feet. The burning sand reminded her to slip on her sandals before she raced down to the water's edge. Others came running as well, and within seconds, the body was surrounded. A woman wearing a saffron sundress pushed her way through the crowd.

A to Z: Beginnings R

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.


YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.

WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.


Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with R words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

~*~

A thorn ripped into Rachel's finger. She dropped the pruning shears and sucked on the blood, partly to keep three-year old Annie from seeing the blood, but mostly to keep the child from hearing the long string of obscenities begging to fly off her tongue. Damn recalcitrant roses.

She set the red bloom she'd just snipped into her bucket and checked her finger. It was still bleeding. Wrapping it in a tissue from her pocket, she picked up her shears.

"What's that one called?" Annie asked, peering at the lone red bloom in the bucket filled with pink and white.

"Rambling Ribald. Do you remember helping me plant it last summer?"

Annie shook her strawberry-blonde curls. Rachel hoped they stayed that way forever. She looked like a little doll, so adorable.

"Did you get hurt, mommy?" She pointed a chubby finger at the tissue.

"Just a pick. It will be fine." A wet warmth running down her hand begged to differ. She dropped the soaked tissue. Her finger was covered in what looked like rust.

A to Z: Beginnings Q

Are we to the end of the month yet? No? Ahhhhhh! Too. Much. Going. On.

After a couple way too busy work weeks, I'm hoping things are getting back to "normal" a little more, and I'll get be able to squeak some more time in for staying on top of my daily story posts and writing in general because I have a short due at the end of the month for submission and another on begging for my attention.

While we're all being busy and you're pretending to not notice that I'm probably still behind on visiting your blog and posting stories from last week, how about taking a little trip over to this week's Author's Answer, were we have a pretty much hands down answer about brushing up on grammar.

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.


YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.

WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.


Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with Q words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.


Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

~*~

Anna studied her canvas. The paint wasn't cooperating with her quixotic vision of the quail before her. Sure, the bird looked pretty on the screen, but it wasn't the right colors to go with what she'd seen in her dreams. Somehow, she had to meld her imagination with the reality of what the Google search had served her.

Some of the images where of low quality and would be of no use. Others were questionable. She looked through them again and choose one that best suited the pose she'd started with, but in this one, the bird was looking straight at her. Like it could see her. The more she met it's gaze the more she was convinced it could see her. A breeze blew through its feathers. It's beak opened. 

A to Z: Beginnings P

Thank you to everyone who has stopped by to leave words for me so far this month. I've had a great time trying to work as many of them in as possible.

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with P words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

~*~

The cursor sat there, blinking endlessly while Patrick perused his notes on particle acceleration. He wished he could be on his personal computer, but the power was out. Everywhere. The only computers up and running on campus where in the basement lab which were old laptops with giant heavy batteries. There were only two hours of battery life left and his paper was due in the morning.

A to Z: Beginnings O

Thank you to everyone who has stopped by to leave words for me so far this month. I've had a great time trying to work as many of them in as possible.

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with O words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

~*~

An orangutan sat on a branch next to a stream, peering down at the strange creature in the water below.  It swam about on its back, on its belly and in spirals. When the crazy creature finally slowed on the surface floating on its back, he called down to it. "What are you?"

"Hello there. I'm an otter."

"OMG, I've never seen one of your kind before in all my travels."

The otter cocked his furry head. "You must be occidental."

"What gave me away?"

"The 'Western is the bestern' shirt you're wearing."

The orangutan scowled at his shirt. "Forgot I had that on. Surprised you can read it down there. It was a gift from Orea."

"Who?"

"The Ontario Real Estate Agency. Stopped by Canada before I got here."

"Ah.  I thought you might be into oology, because you were hanging out in the tree. There are a lot of birds in the area. They like the water. I'm sure there must be some nests nearby."

"No. I'm an orthodontist." The orangutan smiled, showing off his perfect white teeth.

"I heard your kind are expensive. I suppose that's how you could afford this trip?"

"Expensive? Why, that's an outrage. My prices are fair."

"Sorry, must be getting you confused with dentists." The otter smiled apologetically.

"Nice teeth."

"Thanks. I eat a lot of onions."

"That helps?"

"No idea. Someone keeps throwing them in upstream and I keep finding them."

A to Z: Beginnings N

Thank you to everyone who has stopped by to leave words for me so far this month. I've had a great time trying to work as many of them in as possible.

My short story, The Spell, was been published on Saturday Night Reader last week. This is free to read so I hope you stop by and enjoy this fun little tale.

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with N words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

~*~

The nightingales sang, drowning out the lecture on nicotiana plants Sheri had been half-heartedly listening to on her laptop. The professor reminded her of a classic ne'er-do-well from the B-movies her boyfriend liked to watch on the weekends when they had time to spend lounging around together. The pencil thin moustache, heavy dark brows, and slicked back hair made her laugh the more she stared at him, completely disregarding what little knowledge he was attempting to impart. His suit was so tight, it was amazing he could lift his arms in the wide gestures he so enjoyed, without splitting the back seam. Maybe he had and that's why he stood so stiff. She laughed out loud, startling her roommate, Nancy.

"Damn, Sheri, you made me drop the newt." She scrambled after the tiny creature. "I have to finish this potion by tonight."

"Sorry, I'll help you find it." But she was much more interested in watching the backside of the nubile young woman as she crawled around searching through the scattered laundry on the floor.

Nancy sat up and glared at her. "Aren't you going to help?"

"Yes, sorry. I was trying to look from here." Her words came out all slow and tangled, like she'd had a dose of Novocain.

A to Z: Beginnings M

Thank you to everyone who has stopped by to leave words for me so far this month. I've had a great time trying to work as many of them in as possible.

My short story, The Spell, was been published on Saturday Night Reader last week. This is free to read so I hope you stop by and enjoy this fun little tale.

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with M words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

~*~

I should preface this story...and I will... with a disclaimer that I just worked thirteen hours and now finally at 10:30 pm have a chance to sit down at my computer to write (and try not to fall asleep before I finished with) my little story for the day. 

The Muffin Loving Moose

There once was a mysterious male moose who lived in Moravia. He was a bit of a maverick, wandering about alone, having found his fellow moose to be too morose for his taste. All they did was munch greenery day in and out. At night they'd stand together, muttering about wolves and hunters and rumors of moose blood-craving vampires from the nearby Carpathian mountains.

He knew they were misinformed, but he let them believe what they wanted. It didn't matter to him, he preferred to masticate by himself in the peace and quiet of nature without any moose murmuring. 

Muffins were his favorite food. He would find them at the edge of town every few days and it made the effort of wandering out from the wild places worthwhile to munch on mascarpone-filled, marshmallow-topped, mocha-flavored muffins. Some might consider those to be cupcakes, but they would be mistaken.

Much to his surprise, a vampire, craving moose blood, sprang out from behind a pile of those muffins one day and munched happily until the murdered moose was nothing more than mush.

The End.

A to Z: Beginnings L

Thank you to everyone who has stopped by to leave words for me so far this month. I've had a great time trying to work as many of them in as possible.

My short story, The Spell, was been published on Saturday Night Reader last week. This is free to read so I hope you stop by and enjoy this fun little tale.

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with L words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

~*~

There were no more candles. There would be no more light until dawn, and that was days off. Outside, the wings of the beasts that plagued the night skies beat a wicked rhythm, whisking them over her the hovel she called home, forward and back again, as if they were searching for her, for the little girl who had escaped them.

Inky shadows moved up and down the lane, set apart from the dark of night only by their utter blackness. One of them had a limp. Latisha wondered what had befallen the creature and if someone had managed to hurt it, how they'd done so. Come light, she'd join the others in the hunt for the hiding place of their tormentors. Until then, she held her baby and prayed to be invisible.

"Don't worry, little love. They won't get us." But deep inside, she knew her words were lies.

A to Z: Beginnings K

Thank you to everyone who has stopped by to leave words for me so far this month. I've had a great time trying to work as many of them in as possible.

My short story, The Spell, was been published on Saturday Night Reader last week. This is free to read so I hope you stop by and enjoy this fun little tale.

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with K words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

~*~


Bethany opened her purse for the security officer. "See, I'm not a kleptomaniac."

The heavy set woman in the one size too small blue uniform didn't appear impressed by her show of cooperation. "Ma'am, we have you on camera shoving earrings and bracelets into your purse."

"Well, I don't see anything in there that doesn't belong there, do you?" She tossed the purse large enough to hold a litter of Chihuahuas at the officer.

She grabbed it out of the air before it managed to even reach the intended target of her face. "There's no need to cause a kerfuffle. If you'll just come with me?"

"I still have shopping to do, and karaoke later with my friends. I don't have time to take a walk with you." She made a show of leaning over the woman's ample bosom to read her nametag. "Kenya?" She snickered. "You're momma should have picked a bigger country."

Kenya scowled and hit the button on her walkie talkie. "Yeah, Earl? We got ourselves a big talkin' thief down here. Page Karen, I'm gonna need her to witness a pat down."

A to Z: Beginnings J

Thank you to everyone who has stopped by to leave words for me so far this month. I've had a great time trying to work as many of them in as possible.

Because it's Saturday, it seems appropriate to announce that my short story, The Spell, has been published on Saturday Night Reader. This is free to read so I hope you stop by and enjoy this fun little tale.

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with J words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

~*~

"Hey, what you in for?" asked the man in the ripped up jeans and a stained jade green t-shirt on the bench on the other wall of the cell.

"Well, you see, there was a misunderstanding at the track. They claim I drugged one of the other horses."

"You're a tiny guy, aren't ya? You one of them jockeys?"

"Yes. Yes, I am. Jezreal Jones." He considered offering his hand, but decided at the last second that it wasn't a good idea to shake hands with a dirty stranger in a jail cell."

"Funny name."

Jezreal shrugged. "Blame my parents. Nice folks, but lacking in height and consideration for how much their kid might get teased.

"Did you? Drug the horse I mean."

"No, I merely fed him some jelly."

The man leaned forward, shaking his head slowly. "Why on earth would you do that?"

"Lots of sugar makes them nippy. His jockey isn't the nicest guy." Jezreal winked.

A to Z: Beginnings I

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with I words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.


Ever wonder how many writers prefer third person past tense over all the other point of view options? Check out this week's Authors Answer.

~*~

He should have known better than to have slept with her. It was her fault really, all spread out in the skimpy lingerie on the satin sheets, sound asleep breathing softly, lips slightly parted. Had she been dressed in flannels, tucked under some beloved granny's quilt, hair in curlers and one of those hideous face masks on, he would have found her inedible, but no. She was asking for it.

She was lonely. He was just trying to help. The attraction was mutual, he was sure of it. She certainly hadn't complained at the time.

How was he supposed to know that her husband was a powerful priest who had been gone on a week-long retreat? He found out quick when her husband came home and learned what had been going on.

The next thing he knew, he was on an island in the middle of literally nowhere. Just black sand, icy air, and nothing but an inky nebulous haze surrounding the four paces of land he had to walk upon. They were going to pay, both of them. Just as soon as he figured out how to get out of here.

A to Z: Beginnings H

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with H words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

~*~

It was a slow day at the store, nothing to do but staring out the window, wishing she could be outside enjoying the sun like everyone else. Hilary sighed as she wiped the counter for the tenth time that hour. At least she felt like she was doing something other than wasting a perfectly good Saturday afternoon.

Four hours into her eight hour shift, the first customer walked in. The elderly woman smiled at Hilary, though never quite meeting her gaze. She wandered about the eleven short aisles of the quick mart, stopping briefly at the camping supplies and then the candy. When she finally arrived at the counter with an armload of items, Hillary noticed that the old woman wore a bikini under a not-quite-opaque-enough yellow sundress.

Hillary tried not to stare at all the winkles, age spots and stretch marks as she rung up the odd assortment of chocolate bars, bug spray, a lightweight sleeping bag, matches, and the cheapest pop up tent known to mankind.

"What, you think I'm too old to go hobnobbing around in the woods on a beautiful weekend?" she asked with a raised white bushy brow.

"No, of course not." Hilary shoved the purchases into two bags and made change for the woman.

"You know what..." The old woman pursed her thin lips and clucked her tongue against dentures that clacked around in her mouth. "You should join me. Got to bask in the happiness of youth before you end up like this, you know?" She cackled merrily. "Go on, turn that open sign around. Grab yourself a sleeping bag, I'm buying."

A to Z: Beginnings G

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with G words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

~*~

It was generally accepted that gnomes didn't move. They didn't dance around the garden at night or prune the greenery. They didn't sniff the gardenias or plan out intricate plantings with complex geometry. But when the moon was just right, the clouds parted just so, and the pond still enough to reflect the soft glitter of the night, those exact things did happen.

And so it was on one perfect night that a young gnome saddled up a sleepy goose and galloped off to find the girl in the giant glorious garden he'd spotted from the tallest pear tree only ten minutes before. See, gnomes are a somewhat impulsive sort and this one may have given little thought to the fact that should the moon part from its just- rightness, and the clouds thicken, and the wind pick up to ripple the water, his evening plans might go sorely awry. 

A to Z: Beginnings F

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with F words (no not that one) : names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

~*~

Ferdinand smoothed his whiskers and pondered the author photo on the dust jacket of the book he was reading. A plain mouse stared back at him, nothing on his face to suggest that he'd write such a fantastical tale. It had to be fantasy. Why else would he suggest that felines were in fact friendly? Unless the author's mind was fracturing. Maybe too much sharp cheese.

He put the book down, being sure to tuck it into the shelf and align the spine with the others in his collection. His friends often teased him for being too fastidious, but really, was there such as a thing? Ferdinand sniffed the air. His family would be here soon.

A to Z: Beginnings E

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with E words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Your bountiful suggestions on D-day led to a full story. I hope you enjoy it.

While you're waiting to see what I come up with for E, how about picking up a copy of the spring issue of Bards and Sages Quarterly, which features my short story, Late.

~*~

The dust made Eric's nose twitch. He adjusted his breathing filter and examined the exoskeleton he'd uncovered in the sand. If he didn't know better, he'd have sworn the overall body shape appeared equestrian, but there was no record of those beasts having such a thing. All the photos they'd uncovered in the extensive dig showed them as furry beasts, not covered with heavy bone plating like what he saw here.

He brushed the ridges clean on the bones he'd been working on. Maybe he should tell Dr. Franklin. The eccentric old man might have some ideas of what he'd found here. Then again, if he figured it out himself, he'd be the envy of his classmates. An electric rush filled him as he imagined the accolades he'd receive from discovering a new creature on this ancient planet. No one had found anything new here in decades. That's why it had been cleared as a teaching dig.

So ecstatic that his hands shook, his lips drew into a giant grin around his air intake. His seal broken, he started to cough. He dropped the brush and sat down hard on the ground, sending a cloud of dust up into the air around him. Footsteps pounded the ground around him, coming closer from all directions.

A to Z: Beginnings D

THEME: Short Stories - at least the beginnings thereof.
YOUR PART: Throw out words from the letter of the day and I'll pick some of them to include in the opening paragraphs of a short story.
WHY: I'm most inspired when there's a little challenge involved. Usually that means an opening line or a theme. This month: your words.

Each evening I'll post the beginnings of a short story using some of the suggested words, As to when I'll end those stories...well, that's what the rest of the year is for.

So join in the comments with D words. names, places, moods, genres, things, whatever you want to throw at me. My creative bucket awaits. If you're here later in the day and I've already posted the story start, feel free to leave words for the next day's letter.

Thank to you to all of you who have stopped by so far this month. I've enjoyed playing with your words.

Looking for more great blogs? Check out the massive A to Z blog challenge list.

Don't stop writing! Is there anything that would make you or has made you? Check out our assortment of answers to this question on this week's Authors Answer and join in the comments over there too.

~*~

WATER

The drip in the kitchen sink was getting worse, constant, rhythmic, setting David's nerves on edge. He put down the sock he'd been darning and glared into to the darkness that was the hallway leading to the kitchen. No one was going to come fix his problem. He didn't have the money to pay a real repairman.

Drip. He counted to ten, breathing in and out through his nose, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension building there. Maybe if he put a towel in the sink the noise wouldn't echo through the house quite so much. 

Drip. He set the ball of yarn next to the sock and got to his shaking legs. His walker stood at the ready.  Making his way slowly to the hallway, he passed the photo of his darling wife, gone six years now. He put a hand to his lips and then pressed it to the glass.  Drip.

Sophia would be upset over his lack of dedication in keeping up the house once she'd departed. But the things about him didn't seem to matter as much anymore now that she wasn't there with him. The walls were still standing and the roof didn't leak. Drip.

The demons that ran the city could sell the house when he was done with it no matter what shape it was in. They'd probably just tear it down and put up a corner convenience store anyway.  They kept sending him notices about the state of his yard. He kept discarding them. They'd turn his yard into a parking lot. They'd been doing  it all up and  down the street. Every time he looked out the window the neighborhood he remembered was diminished. It was like a bad dream.

Drip. The wheel of his walker stuck on the transition bar between the carpet of the hallway and the tile of the kitchen. He shoved it forward like he always did, lifting slightly, shifting his weight. The wheel didn't give. Drip.

David feel forward with the walker, lurching over the side of it, his arm dangling at an awkward angle. Pain shot through his side and his mouth went dry.  Drip.

His heart began to race. His head throbbed. He called out, but there was no one there to answer, no one to help him. Darkness crept in around the edges of his vision.

Drip.    

If only he could get a drink of water. He tried reach for the sink, but his arms refused to obey.

He gasped for a breath, wishing for just one last drop to ease the tightness in his throat and chest. David went still.

Drip.