Everything and Nothing At All

3WW

2011-01-05T11:42:00.004-06:00

It's been weeks since I participated, so I'm playing catch up. The words I had to use this time were:

Plausible, taint, willingly, buckle, evade, wedge, educate, object, silence, dabble, lean, utter, judge, nightfall, safety, demise, effort, revival, advance, pander, shuffle, clutch, delight, happy, gesture, immediate, treasure, abrupt, kernel, wield, fragile, rampant, tremor, effect, immense, shimmer, absolve, hiss, ridicule, hint, lust, sheen, engulf, imminent, tamper, gait, nudge, ripen, demure, offend, volatile, charm, feast, robust, break, negative, surface, abstain, halo, prayer.

So, here it is:

“Is it plausible to willingly tamper with and taint evidence enough to evade arrest for murder?” Channing stared at the surface of the scarred table in front of her while Mr. Turnbeck, her lawyer droned on and on to the jury. She tried to tune him out and listen to the hiss of the fluorescent lights, but his nasally voice kept sucking her back into what he was saying.

She glanced at the judge, and almost snickered when he dozed off in the middle of Turnbeck’s opening statements. The lawyer’s voice was robust and his gestures were volatile. It was like being at a tent revival. His voice would trail off to near silence, then burst into the air making the fragile peace shimmer and shatter like the mirror she’d knocked off the wall the last night her husband beat her.

Channing closed her eyes and sent up a prayer as her lawyer continued to wield his words and gestures like demure weapons in an effort to sway the jury before the trial really even began.

The prosecutor finally nudged himself off his seat long enough to object to something her lawyer said, and plopped back down when the judge uttered, “Sustained.”

When Turnbeck finally resumed his seat next to her, a tremor shook her. She’d be on the stand to talk about the demise of her marriage soon. When the prosecutor, a piggy little man named Beck, called her to the stand, Channing clutched her hands together and shuffled as fast as the shackles would let her move. She forced her knees not to buckle as she climbed the two steps onto the witness stand and wedged herself into the corner farthest from the bailiff. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, Channing thought to herself.

“Please state your name, age and address for the record.” Beck parked his large backside on the table in front of her and she wondered how it managed not to lean.

“Channing Diane Newell, 32,” she mumbled. She recited her address and waited for the next question.

“And what is your occupation, Mrs. Newell?” His dark watery eyes seemed to glitter with a sheen of delight in the dim courtroom.

“I taught self defence classes at the women’s shelter.” That had been such a happy time in her life. Then she’d met Jeff.

“So, you would educate women on how to protect themselves against abusers and that sort of thing, correct?”

“Yes sir.” She wanted to sneer at him. She had a degree and two black belts. Her career wasn’t something she just dabbled with. It had been her life. She gave women safety and a kernel of hope in a world that threatened to engulf them in violence, pain and fear.

“And you had an occasion to use this knowledge yourself on the evening of January 27, 2009. Is this correct?”

“Yes sir.” She hung her head and waited. She didn’t want to pander to the jury, but she knew without their understanding, no one would absolve her of Jeff’s death.

“And on the evening of January 27, 2009, did you or did you not break the neck Jeffrey Samuel Newell, your husband?”

“I was defending myself, sir.” Beck advanced on the witness stand with the gait of a predator. It should have been funny to see such an immense man move so quickly and with grace, but she couldn’t dredge up any humor.

“That’s not the question I asked, Mrs. Newell. Did you kill your husband?” There was a hint of lust in his eyes, almost like he was waiting to feast on her admission of guilt.

“Yes sir, but it was in self defense.”

“So you did kill Jeffrey Newell?” His voice was loud and strident now in his rampant questioning.

Channing sighed. “Yes sir.”

“No further questions for this witness, your honor.” Beck sauntered back to his seat.

Turnbeck, her defense attorney rose slowly just as the clouds outside cleared. Light poured through the windows and a halo of light reflected off his shiny hair. “Ms. Newell, you have admitted to killing your husband in self defense.”

“Yes sir,” she mumbled fearing her imminent trip to prison.

“Can you tell me what happened on the evening of January 27, 2009?”

“It was right around nightfall when Jeff got home. I remember watching the sun set
and wondering if he’d stopped at the bar after work.”

“Was that common?”

“Yes sir.”

“How did you and Jeff meet?”

The change of subject shocked her for a moment, but she answered. “We met at a church group for college kids who wanted to abstain.”

“Abstain from what?”

“Sex, drugs, alcohol. The normal temptations for college kids.”

“So, and I don’t mean to ridicule you here, you and Jeff were good kids?”

“Yes sir. I thought so any way.”

“How did he treat you when you were dating?”

“Like I was a priceless treasure. Any time I needed him, he was immediately there. But then something changed. He didn’t like my friends, so I couldn’t hang out with them. He didn’t like the way my mother was negative about our relationship, so I couldn’t talk to her.”

“So, to keep from offending him, you cut all ties to your friends and family.”

“In the end, yes sir.”

“He waited for you to become totally his, like he would wait for fruit to ripen perfectly before snatching it off the tree?”

“I suppose so.”

“What happened that night, Ms. Newell?” Again the abrupt change in questioning threw her.

“Jeff was drunk when he got home. He’d gotten laid off from another job and had been drinking since around noon. He wanted to have sex with me, but I didn’t want to.”

“Why not?” Turnbeck looked down at his notes.

“The day before he’d hit me and busted my lip, and punched me in the stomach. I was sore and not feeling particularly interested in having sex with my husband.”

“Had he hit you before?”

“Yes sir.”

“How many times?”

“I don’t know for sure.”

“Did you ever call the police?” He fired off questions almost faster than she could answer.

“Yes sir.”

“How many times?”

“I don’t know. Four or five, maybe.” Her face felt hot and she knew she was blushing.

“Seven, Ms. Newell. You called the police seven times. I have the reports here.” He showed the evidence to the jury. “There are some painful looking photos in with those reports, Ms. Newell. Why didn’t you just leave?”

“I didn’t have any where to go, and the first few times he always apologized and would treat me like a princess afterwards. Then he quit apologizing, and started blaming me. Pretty soon, I did feel like it was my fault. If I’d been a better wife, he wouldn’t have had to punish me.”

“So, after Jeff got home that night, drunk, wanting sex, what happened?” Turnbeck gathered the police reports up and laid them on the corner of his desk.

“I said no and he hit me. I fell back against the table and knocked the dinner dishes off. He jumped on me and we hit the floor. I remember the smell of rum on his breath gagging me.”

“What happened next?” His question broke through her memories and the effect was startling.

“I tried to push him off of me, but he was too heavy. He grabbed my breast and squeezed until I screamed. That shocked him, I think because he sat up and I was able to pull my legs out from under him and run upstairs. I was going to lock myself in the bathroom and wait for him to calm down.

He chased me and about halfway up the stairs, he grabbed the waistband of my jeans and pulled me down. He flipped me over on my back and yanked my shirt up over my face. It felt like I was going to suffocate.” She paused to clear the knot of tears from her throat. “May I have a glass of water?”

The bailiff poured a glass from a nearby pitcher and she took a long drink. “After he pulled my shirt up over my head, he grabbed my wrists and pinned them. With his free hand he undid the fastenings on my jeans and pulled them down. He…”

“He raped you, didn’t he, Ms. Newell?” Turnbeck’s voice was soft.

“Yes sir.”

“What happened then?”

“He started hitting me again. The stairs were cutting into my back and my shirt was still covering my face. It hurt so much, all I wanted to do was get him off of me.”

“At this time, your honor I’d like to show the jury photos of the injuries sustained that night by Ms. Newell.” Turnbeck unwrapped a poster size photograph of her face. It was grotesque – bruises covered every inch and blood ran from her nose and mouth. He took that photo and put it on an easel, then he put up one that showed the bite marks on her abdomen and legs. There were hand-shaped bruises covering her hips and thighs.

Channing couldn’t look at the photos. She was excused from the stand and waited at the defense table.

The jury deliberated for 27 minutes before returning the verdict.

When “not guilty” rang out in the courtroom, tears flooded Channing’s eyes. Her shackles were removed and she knew she would be free.

Head over to Three Word Wednesday and check out the many talented writers.

Two Line Tuesday

2011-01-04T10:36:00.001-06:00

It’s Tuesday, Two Line Tuesday to be precise. Right now, I’m reading No Rest for the Wicked by Kresley Cole. Here’s a couple of lines:

“I’m weary of this. Of you.” He put his hand above her against the wall, leaning over her. “You’re right. About everything. There’s no reason for you to accept me. And you were right in saying that I’ve been compelled to want you simply because you’re my Bride. My desire for you has been forced on me. I’ve had no choice in the matter.”

Tension and drama. I have to say, I’m totally invested in their relationship at this point, and mad at both of them for being stupid and not just accepting it, but it would be a really short story if they did.

Here’s a few from what I’m working on right now. No title yet, and a twist that surprised me. Two of my characters have just retrieved a kidnapped boy, and one of the team was injured.

“Give me good news, Ian.”

"The boy is in our possession and headed back this way. Mace’s arm’s broken but he’ll recover. Don’t know yet whether the bastard hurt the kid. Report right now is that he looks healthy but doesn’t have much to say.”

“He may just be scared. How the hell did Mace’s arm get broken?” He rubbed his hand down his face. “Do I even want to know?”

Ian laughed, but it was more a sound of frustration. “He says he fell down some stairs. It’s bull, we both know that, but I’ll find out more in a couple of hours when they get here.”

Yep, that’s more than two lines, but it was fun for me. Check out the Women of Mystery for more great writers.

3WW - First Day of School

2010-08-18T08:16:00.005-05:00

It's Wednesday, and that means it's time for another 3WW challenge. Today's words are grimace, phase and stumble.
**

Today was your first day of school. I blinked back tears that threatened to blind me while we walked up the steps. Your little hand clutched mine and I squeezed, hoping to offer reassurance in any way I could. Your sweet answering smile made my heart stutter for a moment.

We got into the cafeteria and you sat down with other kids from your class, and like that, I was background noise - a silly phase you'd grown out of. I told you goodbye and I loved you. You grimaced a little when I brushed a kiss on your cheek.

"Hey, guys, this is my mommy." I smiled, you smiled, and the world started spinning again.

My sweet little boy turned to play with his friends and I retreated. My heart broke a little that I didn't even get a hug, but that's what I get for raising such a strong, confident, handsome boy.

Your innocent giggles surrounded me as I made my way out of the building and I stumbled a little on the stairs and tried to ignore the suspicious burn behind my eyes.

Have a great day, my sweet boy!

**
Yep, that's how it happened. He was so eager to meet his new friends that he really didn't have time to worry about saying bye to mommy. To my credit, I made it all the way back to the car before I cried, and I only cried for a minute. I don't know why this was so hard, he's been in daycare, but this is different. He's getting so big so fast.

Anyway! For more fun and games, head over to Three Word Wednesday. Try the challenge, or just support the wonderful people who write.

It's Tuesday!

2010-08-17T08:27:00.004-05:00

It's time again for another fabulous edition of Two Sentence Tuesday.

Right now I am reading Lori Foster's Unbelievable. I'm loving it. It is a very emotional read, as the heroine was raped at 18 and has a lot of trauma to overcome, but the sexy hero of the story, a tough bodyguard whose muscles have muscles, has a sweet side and of course he's volunteered to be tied to the bed so she can have her wicked way with him.

Without even thinking about it, she leaned down and kissed him. Sebastian knew she didn't note the significance of the kiss, but he did. They were in a bed, he was free to move, and still she'd come to him.

My lines are from a current WIP. I can't decide if I love where this is going, or hate it...

“Five in the morning is too early for this,” Mariska grumbled while she stared into her closet hoping the god of fashion would spit out something she could work out in and not look horrible.
She did one more inventory and found a pair of yoga pants that she never wore since they were a little tight – and because the one and only yoga class she’d gone to had ended in a trip to the emergency room and her arm in a sling.

For more, head over to the Women of Mystery. Have a great day!

Inspiration

2010-08-12T08:28:00.002-05:00

"I think people can do anything. When people tell you it can’t be done, or try to usher you away in another direction, it all comes back to your passion. If you really believe in it, and think you can, then go ahead and do it!"

- Frank "Scoop" Vessels III March 18, 1952 - August 11, 2010

I was able to get to know Mr. Vessels and his family recently. I've worked with them on and off for years, but in the last few months I learned a lot about him.

Scoop loved life, and obviously loved a good adventure. He was an offroad racer, sponsored by BF Goodrich, and won the Baja 500 and Baja 1000. He was a pilot, a breeder of amazing American Quarter Horses, and truly a nice man.

He took the time to talk to me at a recent event, and thank me for all I'd done for him, making his exhibit something special. I told him, it was his life that made it special, I just arranged pieces to make it look pretty. He laughed his wonderful laugh and moved on. I didn't get a chance to talk to him again.

Frank "Scoop" Vessels III will be missed.

Two Line Tuesday

2010-08-03T16:55:00.001-05:00

I almost forgot it was Tuesday. It’s felt like Monday all over again, all day.

Right now I’m reading Marked by Elisabeth Naughton. I’m only a few pages in, so I don’t know if I’m going to like it or not, but here are the last two lines I read:

“Atalanta is a petty hag with a perpetual case of PMS. And let me guess… As her number-one whipping boy, you get what? The right to wipe her ass?”

I love the sarcasm. So, maybe it will be good.

Here are the last two I wrote from my current super secret WIP:

I can’t remember what tune I whistled on the way to our car, but it stuck in my head for hours and I couldn’t quit smiling. Trey looked at me in his I’m-a-genius-and-I-know-it-all way and gave me a high five.

Short, sweet and to the point this week. For more two line fun, head over to the Women of Mystery.

3WW

2010-07-29T16:38:00.001-05:00

It has been 13 weeks since I participated in 3WW, and I’ve missed it. It was a challenge, but I included all 39 words that have been posted since the last time I participated. A little over two hours after I started, I’ve finished. 1,500 words. That is a big deal for me, since I’ve let my writing go for quite a while. So, here are the words I included:

Escape, hum, vibrant, fear, ignore, weightless, dread, grasp, pacify, abandon, gradual, precise, budge, nimble, theory, hidden, noble, roam, erase, meadow, trace, feign, imply, virtue, hassle, inject, wealth, acrid, bane, tepid, gentle, praise, vulgar, bait, jump, victim, abuse, cramp and hatred.

I know I’m a day late, but I still wanted to post. Thanks for reading.

Writing was Sarah’s escape. All around her she could hear the vibrant hum of life, but she was removed from it. Separate. When she was immersed in her character’s lives, she was able to ignore the fear that stooped her shoulders and made her feet feel leaden. In the fantasies she created she was free. Weightless and insubstantial.

She would write for hours and came to dread her return to reality, but it came everyday at 5:22. He would come home from work then. Never a minute earlier, never a second later. It only took two months after they were married for her to grasp all the ways her life would change.

It was small things at first. They couldn’t afford such a large cell phone bill so she gave up hers. Then, it bothered him for her to have a night out with her friends without him, so he began to come along, until he got tired of going out with them, so she quit going out all together. After that, things spiraled out of her control so quickly she didn’t know how it happened. Now it seemed every decision she made was calculated to pacify him.

Within months of their honeymoon, he’d abandoned all pretense of trying to make her happy. And after a year of wedded bliss, there had been a gradual shift in her life. She went from being a strong, independent, productive woman, to a shell that only existed to please him.

Sarah learned quickly the precise ways he liked his clothes folded and put away. They went out together to dinner every Thursday night, and she never went out alone. That was something he wouldn’t budge on. At first she thought he was being cute and over protective, but realized, slowly, that it was so he always knew where she was and what she was doing.

When they’d been dating, making love had been a symphony of pleasure. Gabriel’s long, nimble fingers had played over her body like a concert pianists. Now, years later, those fingers were more often cruel and bruising. He’d wrap them around her neck and squeeze until black dots danced across her vision and she knew this would be the last time. She knew, in theory, that she could leave him and get away. Maybe then she would be safe and not wonder if every time the clock said 5:22, it would be the last time she would see it.

But, she could never find the courage to step out of the life she knew. So, she stayed hidden in her make-believe world, creating a happily ever after that she would never have.

Gabriel had been her noble white knight, rescuing her from an abusive family. Her father had roamed from one girlfriend to the next, while her mother took out her hurt and frustration on the children their union had produced. The sweet nineteen year old version of Gabriel had swept in, and given Sarah what she thought was love. Any time they argued, he used flowers and gentle kisses to erase everything harsh word he’d said. And Sarah fell for it.

After four months of dating, he’d taken her on a picnic in a meadow and asked her to marry him. They’d made love in the sweet smelling grass with the sun blazing above them. Afterwards, she’d used long blades of grass to trace patterns of hearts and their initials on his back while he feigned sleep. His promises that day seemed to imply that they would be married after they both finished their education and had careers. How wrong she’d been.

She’d gone home, floating on a cloud of teenaged dreams and told her mother what had happened. Sarah’s mistake had been in telling her mother that she was happy and would be even happier away from their family. The first slap caught her by surprise. Her lip split and she could taste blood in her mouth. She wasn’t fast enough to dodge the second hit from her mother, but by the third she decided to fight back. It was the beginning of the end for her.

Her father had come home that night, and Sarah could remember the bitterness in her mother’s voice. It coated the air with an almost palpable feeling of hate. It was then that she realized her mother was jealous of her, of her happiness. Within minutes her father was raging that, “He’d have no whore living under his roof.”

She’d called Gabriel and he’d come and taken her away from the screaming. He made everything right with the world. It was a virtue that he used many times in the following years, his gift with talking his way out of any situation.

The first time he hit her was one month after the birth of their first child - a son she’d been so proud to give him. The baby had been up all night, fussy with colic, and Sarah was exhausted. She’d left Gabriel’s eggs on too long and the yolk wasn’t runny like he liked it. After one bite, he dumped the plate on the floor and backhanded Sarah. She’d hit the wall and slid to the floor. The crash had scared the baby and he had started crying again.

By the time Caleb was three, Sarah had grown tired of the hassle calling the police caused and pregnant again, decided that something must be wrong with her or Gabriel wouldn’t hit her. She’d hidden the bruises for so long, it was second nature.

The violence lasted for years, and Sarah took it. Gabriel was good to their children, but she knew in her heart seeing him beat up their mother and scream awful things in her face had to be doing some damage.

Caleb’s high school graduation changed that. Gabriel had beaten her two days before, and the bruises had reached their peak of ugliness. One eye was swollen shut, her lip was busted and a near perfect hand print circled her throat. There was no way she could go out in public, and she’d been forced to miss the ceremony.

Regret and shame filled her blood like someone had injected acid straight into her heart. Never again. That night a plan formed like ice in her brain. She would get away and spend the rest of her life making it up to her precious children.
Over the next week, she gathered what she needed. Just a few innocuous items and the problem would be gone for good.

Her kids were gone for the weekend and it was nearing 5:00. Calmly she saved the document she was working on and pushed away from the desk. In 22 minutes her life would change forever.

After the police and emergency services left and she was finally alone, Sarah sank to her knees in the middle of the living room floor and laughed. The sound rang out and echoed in the empty house until it changed to sobs. She cried for all of the bruises, lost friendships, and the loss of innocence in her children. She cried until there were no tears left.

She woke to the sounds of her children coming home the next morning. She’d already decided how she would tell them that their father was gone. They sat at the table looking shocked for almost an hour. Then her precious family hugged her close. She knew they loved her. They’d asked why she let Gabriel hurt her for so long, and for that she didn’t have an answer, but she swore it would never happen again.

Caleb had looked at her then, and in his eyes she saw the truth. He knew she had murdered his father, and he approved.

They talked of the future and how would they afford college and house payments, and Sarah reassured them. Months before she’d sent her writing to an agent, who’d already sold three of the seventeen manuscripts Sarah had completed. They may not have much in the way of money, but in love they had immeasurable wealth.

After the autopsy had been performed and Gabriel’s death ruled and accident, Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. Never again would his acrid breath wash across her face as he pushed her head under tepid bath water. The bane of his presence would no longer haunt her nights.

Her home became something that was filled with gentle praise instead of vulgar comments and slurs meant to bait her into a fight. The children didn’t jump when the door opened any more, and for that alone, Sarah would have done it all over again.

There were no victims living in her house - only strong individuals who had lived through abuse.

Six months after his death, Sarah went to visit Gabriel’s grave. Her stomach cramped and she felt like she would vomit, but forced her feet forward. She expected to be filled with hatred for the man she had once loved and then killed, but standing alone on the cold overcast November day, all she could feel was overwhelming joy.

She had gotten away and was finally free.

Please visit 3WW and support others who have had the courage to take the writing challenge.

Two Line Tuesday

2010-07-27T08:25:00.002-05:00

I was reminded recently, that I do, in fact, have a blog.

I was also reminded that I have been neglecting said blog. The sting was eased by my friend saying, “But that’s okay, since you are writing. It is the writing that matters.” I just wanted to hang my head in shame.

In the last few months, I have edited a lot of other people’s work, some fiction, some non-fiction, and while I love to do that, I need to make myself write. I’ve written 1450 words of fiction and two non-fiction articles in the last few months. I hear the shrimp from Finding Nemo in my head right now… I am ashamed. Followed quickly by him saying, “Bubbles! My bubbles!”

Yeah, that’s how my brain works.

This month was the one year anniversary of our son being placed with us, and to tell the truth, I’m still learning to be a mom and cope with a toddler who has some abandonment and anger issues, as much as he is still learning that no matter what happens, we will always be there for him. We go for days with him being the sweetest boy in the world and then he has a nightmare and the next week is really bad. The nightmares are getting farther and farther apart and life is getting easier, but then there are mornings like today when I wake up at 4 am and my precious boy has brought his blanket in our room and is curled up on the floor sleeping.

It breaks my heart that he is afraid to wake us up. Hubby picked him up off the floor (much to my Labrador’s consternation as he was losing his snuggle buddy) and got him back in his own bed, which was obviously a mistake. My poor little boy started screaming at the top of his lungs at just after 6. Scared the life out of me. I jumped out of my bed, leaped over the snoring dog (thank goodness we have an alarm on our house, because he is sooooo not a guard dog), ran down the hallway and crashed into my son’s room. As I slid to a stop I wondered, “What do I do?”

It always scares him when we come into his room to comfort him when he is having a nightmare, whether we sneak in, just walk in, or come crashing in like I just had, and I didn’t want to scare him. I reached toward him and he pulled away from me. I’m not going to lie, my heart broke. It only took him a split second to realize it was me, but still, seeing the fear in my child’s eyes directed at me sliced something deep inside. It makes me sad, and fills me with absolute rage. No child should experience the fear he has.

So, yeah, I’ve been neglecting my blog and really neglecting my writing. I want to feel bad about that, but I realized I have to have priorities. For right now, as much as I want to write and get the bubbling, seething mass of ideas out of my head, I need to focus on my family. I’ll drop by as often as I can, because I do miss you, my bloggy friends. You boost my writing ego, you soothe my fears that I can’t do it – that I’m wasting time, and you have held my hand through the tough patches. Thanks for that. You’ll never know how much that means.

So, on to the writing portion of my lengthy post. If you’ve made it this far… just, wow. You’re awesome. Enough with my whining. I am reading Gena Showalter’s The Darkest Lie.

What’s it like? Living without a demon?

I know, I’m such a tease. I really like her storyline in this Lords of the Underworld series. Demon doesn’t always equal evil and angel doesn’t always equal good.

And on to what I am writing. My current WIP started out as a joke, but now, the pressure is on. I’ll share the story of how it came about as soon as I am able, but right now, it is all a big secret. I’ve been told that if I tell anyone, my tongue may be removed and my fingers broken so that I have no way of communicating other than grunting. Not a thrilling prospect, since I love to talk so much. I can’t even share the title, but I am going to be sneaky and post a couple of lines here and pray that the person or persons who have threatened me don’t check up on me. Wish me luck!

Sweat slicked my palms, air sawed in and out of my lungs and I felt like I was going to piss my pants. It felt just like the first time I climbed the sheer rock face of a cliff, praying that all my gear was secure and fighting the urge to check my safety harness one last time.

This is the first time I’ve written much of anything in first person. Plus, I’m writing it from a male POV. I felt like throwing myself under the bus evidently.

Thanks for being here, and I hope I can visit again soon! For more Two Sentence Tuesday, visit the Women of Mystery.

Two Line Tuesday

2010-05-11T08:40:00.003-05:00

Those fabulous Women of Mystery are doing another edition of Two Sentence Tuesday and here is my contribution.

I am currently reading Tales of the Otherworld by by Kelley Armstrong. I love her writing, and this is a great book to purchase because all of the profits are being donated to World Literacy of Canada.

So, the last two lines I read are:

Lucas had asked Benicio to come no sooner than Thursday, which we'd figured was too close to the wedding for him to interfere, yet early enough that he didn't feel like "just another guest."

He was there right after breakfast.

And now for mine. I'm still editing on my MS (a process I'm sure I could make into a lifetime project), so here are a couple of lines:

She took one last look around, crossed the porch and unlocked her door. Her pulse pounded in her ears and her skin felt like it was trying to crawl off her body. She knew someone was out there watching her – she could feel it. Slamming the door shut behind her, she leaned against it and twisted the deadbolt.

I know it is four lines, but we all knew I was a cheater anyways! To check out what the others are reading and writing, head over to WoM.

3WW

2010-04-28T09:23:00.002-05:00

It’s time for another 3WW. I’ve missed the last couple of weeks because of personal issues. Some of you know that hubby and I adopted our son in February. Two weeks ago CPS placed a four-day-old baby in our home. It was pretty crazy and VERY hard. We only had her for eight days, but we loved her with everything we had for those short days. Baby has moved on now, and so have hubby and I. As of yesterday we are no longer foster parents. We have decided to take a year or so off and love our son, and maybe when he is a little older and can understand why suddenly he had a sister and then just as suddenly he didn’t, we will go through the process again. It has been incredibly hard on us, our son, our friends and our extended families. But as with everything in life, you have to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, hug the ones you love and keep going.

Here is my continuation of past 3WW. The nine words for this “episode” are:

Brash
Lubricate
Saint

Ebb
Negotiate
Random

Depart
Ignite
Rotten

I leaned closer to Jason and lowered my voice. “Have you told anyone else that you saw the killer?”

“No. I didn’t know what to do.” Shame wrote itself in the lines of his acne scarred face. “I was afraid the demon would come after me next.”

I watched tears fill his eyes. “You’re doing okay, Jason. Just a little more help and it will be over, okay?”

“Do they have beer here? I’d really like another beer.”

I shook my head. Jason damn sure didn’t need anything else to lubricate his memories. “Will you go to the station with me? There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Who?” The word exploded out of him with so much fear and desperation it made me flinch.

“Her name’s Cara. She’s a sketch artist. If you can tell her what the … demon looked like, maybe we can find him.”

“You’ll punish him for hurting Marie, right?”

Jesus, you’d think she was a saint to hear the reverence in his voice. “Yes, Jason. I’d very much like to punish him.”

It took me a few more minutes to persuade him to come to the station with me, but he finally got into my car.

I rolled down the windows to let in the crisp night air, and hopefully blow away some of the reek that followed the poor kid around. He seriously needed a shower.

When we pulled into the brightly lit parking lot, I almost expected him to bolt, but he surprised me by getting out of the car, squaring his shoulders and calmly walking toward the door.

I got him settled at my desk with a cup of lukewarm coffee and called Cara.

“Yeah.” Her normally brash voice was sleepy. I glanced at the clock and swore. It was almost two in the morning.

“Sorry, Cara. Didn’t realize it was this late.”

“Lizzy?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” She was the only person on the planet allowed to call me Lizzy, besides my dad.

“You do realize it is 1:48, right? In the morning.”

I could hear her yawn and winced when her jaw popped. “I didn’t until you answered the phone.”

“So, why did you wake me up? I was seriously dreaming about that new guy.”

“Sanders? The rookie? What the hell?”

“Yeah. Well, a girl can’t wait around for you forever.” It was an old joke between us. We’d been roommates in college and I’d learned a lot from Cara.

I’d only had one serious boyfriend before leaving home and sex between us had been terrible. After one too many beers, I’d spilled my story to Cara. She’d made it her sole purpose in life to teach me how good it could really be. In bed or out. She was the first and only woman I’d ever slept with.

As exciting as it had been, learning from her and with her – she gave me an up close and personal tutorial on the correct way to give a blow job – we were much better off as friends. I was totally heterosexual. Women were beautiful and sexy, but they just didn’t do it for me. Not the way a man did.

“Still with me, Lizzy baby?” She was practically purring.

“Yeah. Sorry, Cara. Took a little trip down Memory Lane.”

“Really?”

“Okay. New subject. I need you to come down to the station. I’ve got a witness who saw the O’Malley killer.”

“No shit?” All traces of humor fled her voice.

“None whatsoever. So, can you get your ass down here or what?”

“Girlfriend, you’re gonna owe me big.”

“I already do.”

I could hear the sheets rustling as she slid out of bed. “Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, Cara.” She’d already hung up.

So, what to do with Jason for twenty minutes. Spotting the officer Cara was currently lusting after, I yelled across the squad room, “Hey Sanders. Got any spare clothes?”

Seventeen minutes later, a freshly showered and shaved Jason emerged from the men’s locker room, dressed in Sanders’ street clothes. The jeans bagged on his skinny hips and the tee shirt looked like a dress on him, but the odoriferous cloud that had been following him around all night was gone.

He gave me a sheepish grin as he sat down next to my desk. “Officer Sanders told me I’d better be nice to the artist or else.”

Well. Maybe Cara’s lust wasn’t one sided. Young Officer Sanders seemed to have an interest in her, and had already staked his claim to Jason.

Five minutes later, Cara walked in and every eye in the place was trained on her. Tall and slim, she had a grace that was obvious even though she wore loose jeans and a man’s button down shirt.

Her long red hair was pulled up in a haphazard ponytail and curly tendrils escaped to frame a gentle face scrubbed free of makeup.

“Hey sweetie,” she greeted me with a hug before sniffing my hair and grimacing. “Lord, Lizzie, you smell like the bottom of an ashtray.”

“Thanks.” I turned and introduced her to Jason.

“Just answer her questions as best you can and maybe we can get a good sketch of the man who hurt Marie.”

He looked at me and I was finally able to see past the scared junkie to the man underneath. He nodded once and focused his attention on Cara.

I watched for a few minutes before wandering off to get another cup of the muddy brew that passed for coffee.

At night the station is far from silent, but not nearly as crazy as during the day. Conversations ebb and rise in the dimmer lighting. Low laughter can be heard closer to the coffee pot and soft crying and loud cursing echo near in-take.

It only took a minute to negotiate my way around the station to watch as a line of prostitutes were processed. Most were hard-faced and answered the questions asked of them in single words. There were a few sobs and protests of innocence, but the majority of them had been here so often that this was just another routine.

Every now and then you could hear the random ringing of a telephone, but everything fades into a background static at night. I’d started as a rookie on nights. Years ago. Some days it seems like an eternity ago. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not that old, but time isn’t always kind. I still had mostly dark hair, only a few lines around my eyes and gravity hasn’t taken over my body yet.

I strolled back toward my desk to see if Jason had made any progress yet and saw Cara’s face blanch. A hot flash of anger ignited inside me and I rushed over.

“What the hell did you say to her, you son of a bitch?” I fisted the loose material of Jason’s tee shirt in my hand, when what I longed to do was strangle him.

“Lizzy. Calm down. It wasn’t him.” I swung my gaze to Cara and she met my eyes with a sad little smile. “Look.”

My hands went numb and I let go of Jason’s shirt when I saw the sketch. “There’s no way. It can’t be.”

“That’s what I thought too.” I could see the concern in her eyes and I quickly looked away. I didn’t want her pity.

“Are you sure this is your demon, Jason?” I was standing close enough to smell the minty toothpaste he’d used and the coffee that he’d just been drinking.
He nodded quickly, eyes never leaving Cara’s sketch.

“‘The business of life is to be, to do, to do without and to depart.’ That’s the quote he used to leave behind. Isn’t it, Lizzy?”

Goosebumps rushed across my skin. I hated that quote. “Yeah.”

She wrinkled her nose like she could smell something rotten. “He’s dead, though. You killed him.”

And that wraps up this week’s 3WW offering. Visit 3 Word Wednesday for more inspiration.

3WW

2010-04-07T09:58:00.001-05:00

It is time for Three Word Wednesday. I just counted and it has been seven weeks since I participated, so I am going to use all seven weeks worth of words. This is a continuation on my last Three Word Wednesday posts. The twenty-one words I have to use are:

Generate
Meager
Tease
Amaze
Frail
Sacred
Modify
Obedient
Veil
Pulse
Shard
Weary
Brazen
Hunger
Nuzzle
Caustic
Hunch
Sacrifice
Deviate
Identify
Saturate

So here we go:

“You’re not going to believe me.” I stared into his bloodshot eyes and waited. “You laugh and I’ll walk.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Okay, Paulie. Amaze me.”

He seemed to hunch in on himself even further. “It’s Jason, okay? Not Paul. Or Paulie. Just Jason.”

“Alright, Jason. What did you see the night Marie was killed?”

The music in the bar was a solid pulse pounding through my body, and all I wanted to do was go home and take a shower to wash the despair clinging to my skin off.

Paulie – now Jason – sighed and looked even more weary than before. I was fairly certain I wasn’t going to like what I was about to hear.

“It was a demon that killed her, Detective Luna.”

“A demon?” Was he really brazen enough to drag my ass down here and fill me full of crap? My fingers itched to pull my gun and shoot the little shit.

“I told you if you laughed I’d leave.” He pushed to his feet, weaving unsteadily. Shit. Maybe that last drink was one too many.

“Sit your skinny ass down, Jason.” He plopped back down on his barstool like an obedient dog. “I’m not laughing.”

“Better not be.”

I snorted, but couldn’t generate enough energy to care. “Jason, why don’t you tell me why you think a demon killed Marie.”

“I think she might have been a human sacrifice.”

“So… the evil demon lord sacrificed Marie O’Malley for what?”

The bartender chose that moment to slide a bowl of beer nuts between us. “Either order another drink, cop, or get out of my bar. You’re bad for business.”

I glanced over at Jason and saw hunger written all over his face. He was practically drooling over stale snacks. I pulled another ten out of my pocket and slid it across the bar. He tried to slide it the rest of the way but I didn’t let go. Smoke from his cigarette wafted over to tease my nose. Too bad I’d quit nearly a decade before. “Five more minutes, bubba and we’ll be out of your hair.”

His bushy eyebrows rose and he waited for me to release the money. I let go and watched him lumber off before I looked at the frail, strung out man beside me. He was still gazing at the bowl like it was filled with sacred bread rather than a meager handful of nuts.

“Let’s go, Jason.”

His attention snapped to me and panic flitted across his face. “Where?”

“There’s a little diner down the street, and I could use a burger. You interested?”

His eyes cleared like a hazy veil had been ripped aside at the mention of food. “A burger? With fries?”

“Yeah, Jason. A burger, fries and some talk.” We left the bar together. Tiny, the bouncer, was still manning the door, if you could call shoving his tongue down a blonde’s throat watching the entrance. When I’d first arrived I’d thought he might’ve been decent security. I’d have to modify that opinion now.

Jason’s eyes almost popped out of his head when I stepped up behind the bouncer and swiped his legs out from under him.

“Son of a bitch!” he bellowed up from his sprawl on the sidewalk. “Why the hell did you do that?”

I almost giggled watching him dust off the seat of his pants. Almost. “I just saw two boys walk right past you. They couldn’t have been more than seventeen. You might want to watch the door a little more and spend less time examining the blonde’s tonsils.”

The words weren’t even all the way out of my mouth before the other woman was nuzzling up to Tiny again, and glaring daggers at me.

The bouncer sputtered some more, but I’d already tuned him out. I led Jason half a block down to a greasy all night diner. Just the place to hear about murder and demons.

A fiftyish waitress took our orders and slapped down two chipped white mugs of coffee so caustic I felt the enamel melting off my teeth. Maybe it would sober Jason up some.

“So, Jason, tell me about Marie and the demon.”

“Listen, detective. I know you don’t believe me, but I swear I saw him.”

“Calm down. Just tell me what you remember.”

“I followed Marie home after her shift like I usually do.” He looked up at me from under his ragged bangs and a shard of pity spiked through me.

“You were in love with her weren’t you?”

The waitress slid burgers and fries in front of us, spun around and walked away. Maybe she didn’t like Jason’s B.O. It was beginning to saturate the air. Or maybe she just didn’t give a damn anymore. Either way, I wouldn’t be a big tipper tonight.

“Yeah, maybe, I don’t know. Anyway, I followed her home and waited in the stairwell while she unlocked her door. I always watched to make sure she was safe, you know?”

He shoveled food in his mouth for a few minutes before I pushed him again. “What did you see?”

“It all happened so fast. I mean one second she was all alone in the hallway mumbling about her key sticking and the next, he was there.”

Jason swallowed hard before glancing up at me. “The demon hit her in the back of the head and pushed her inside. I could hear her struggling but it was like I was frozen. I couldn’t move.”

I took a drink of the sludge in my cup. “Why do you think he’s a demon?”

“He killed Marie. He has to be a demon to kill someone so pure and so beautiful.”

And I tuned out again while he extolled the victim’s many virtues. If I couldn’t get him to quit calling the killer a demon, there was no way the prosecutor would use him as a witness. The defense would prove the homeless, drunk, probably drug addicted man next to me was unreliable. Imagine that. But no matter how much I questioned him, he wouldn’t deviate.

“I saw him leave her apartment. His face was all scratched up.”

“You saw his face?”

He nodded one slow bob of his head up and down.

“Can you identify him?”

Another jerk of his head in the positive and I could feel excitement building inside me. This could be exactly the break I needed to find out who killed Marie O’Malley.

I hope you enjoyed this long installment of Three Word Wednesday. Head over there and check it out – maybe get some creative juices flowing.

Two Sentence Tuesday

2010-04-05T22:00:00.004-05:00

I've come to the conclusion that I'm not doing so well keeping up with my blog. I'm going to try and do better. That said, here are two lines from the book I'm reading, Lords of the Underworld by Gena Showalter.

For years Reyes had hovered near moral collapse, hating himself for the things he had to do to appease his demon. Killing innocent, torturing, destroying entire cities. This was the worst, though, following his friend, a man he loved like a brother. A man who had once helped him learn to control the monster inside him.

Even though this passage is talking about a literal demon, it made me think about the demons that haunt us all. The things we wish we hadn't done, the lie we wish we hadn't told, the promises broken - all things that weigh people down.

I attended a training class for work today, so maybe that is why I am in such a philosophical mood right now, but a lot of what the speaker said made sense to me, and really made me think. The title of the session was "The Essential Elements for living a life of Excellence." So, for my two sentences written, I want to share one of the answers to a question he asked us.

The question:
What are you doing, or what could you be doing to pass on the lessons taught to you by people who had the most significant impact on your life?

It was something that sparked feeling inside me. I wasn't looking forward to a four hour training course on a Monday afternoon, but I think I may have come away with something.

My answer:
I am doing my best to teach my son that no matter what anyone says he is capable of doing ANYTHING he desires. I'm trying to show my friends and fellow writers that feeling defeated is not the same as being defeated. You just have to keep trying until you succeed. It's hard but you have to press forward. Miracles happen every day.

I don't know where that little bit of wisdom came from, but there it is. Feeling defeated isn't the same as being defeated. I've felt pretty down about my writing lately, and I realized I've been holding myself back. Excuse after excuse about why I keep putting my WIP down and don't pick it up again for days. Reasons for not keeping up with my blog, and so on and so on. One of the things we talked about today is recommitting to the things that are important to you and proving that you are capable to yourself and to those around you. So, here I go. I'm officially recommitting. I may not post something everyday, but I will do my best to post at least a few times a week. I've got lots of recommitting to do, so I'm off.

For more fabulous Two Sentence Tuesday, head over to the Women of Mystery. Leave a comment or be brave and post two of your own. It's a wonderfully freeing experience!

Two Sentence Tuesday

2010-03-30T08:48:00.000-05:00

It’s time for Two Sentence Tuesday. Currently, I am reading “The Lords of the Underworld” series by Gena Showalter. This is the first I’ve read of her, and I like her. This series is pretty dark, and I like all the doom and gloom, murder and mayhem. Here are the last two lines I read:

Tears streamed down her cheeks, chilling with the cold. How many would she shed before the ducts dried completely?

Ashlyn is, I assume, the heroine of this book. She’s just come in and already been imprisoned in a demon lord dungeon. Lucky girl. Hope things turn around for her.

Now, the last two lines from my WIP. I’m in the editing stage right now, so these lines are from the end of the first chapter. Before, my heroine was too wimpy. I don’t want her to be scared all the time, so it is time for her to be angry. She caught her ex in a compromising position and broke up with him, but now he’s watching her.

“Did you enjoy your night out? You looked so sad and lonely. Let me know when you change your mind and want to come back to me.” Jason’s voice coming from the machine shocked her, but the fact that he’d been watching her pissed her off.

Yep, I know I cheated. More than two lines. Please forgive me!

For more Two Sentence Tuesday check out the Women of Mystery.

Two Sentence Tuesday

2010-02-23T08:10:00.000-06:00

This week I am reading Suzanne Brockmann’s Identity: Unknown. Her books aren’t something I normally read, but lately I’ve been in military mode – reading about SEALs and Marines and Rangers. I don’t know why, but there you go. And just like last week, her writing is a little too tame for me, but I’m enjoying it and taking a break from my routine.

Here are the last two lines I read from Identity: Unknown:

The guard shoved him and he stumbled, but he forced himself not to react, to find serenity from deep inside, that same serenity that had saved him so many times before. He was here.

And two lines I just edited from my WIP:

She crossed the cracked asphalt and each pool of light beckoned to her, making her feel safe. A chill crept up her spine as she left one circle of light and stared ahead at the next. Tingling at the back of her neck told her she wasn’t alone. She sped up and counted the steps to the next halo of sick yellow illumination.

Hope you enjoyed, and head over to Women of Mystery for more Two Sentence fun.

3WW

2010-02-18T08:14:00.002-06:00

The prompts at 3WW this week are: Occur, Ragged and Tidy. Here is my continuation of last weeks 3WW.

It wasn’t hard to find Paul Smith after all. He was sitting alone at the end of the bar hammering back drinks as fast as he could.

His hair was ragged and greasy strands fell forward to cover his eyes. I got closer and realized exactly why he was alone. Paulie was in desperate need of a bath. Body odor and booze leaked out of his pores, creating an almost tangible haze around him, leaving very little breathable air.

I slid a tidy sum of money down the bar to him. “Talk.”

He never glanced up at me, but his dirty hand covered the bills. “I knew Marie. She volunteered on Thursdays at the mission downtown.”

Homeless. I figured as much if his hygiene was anything to go by. “I didn’t just give you money for you to tell me something I already knew.”

I caught the bartenders eye and waited while he strolled over. He was polishing a glass with a dirty bar towel and had a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

“Beer for me. Whatever’s on tap, and I’ll buy his next round.” Maybe if I lubed him up some, Paulie would stop wasting my time. The bartender ambled away and I wondered if we’d get our drinks in the next hour.

I leaned over the counted to yell at his back, “And none of that light shit!”

“She talked to me. Marie did. She talked to me about growing up in her perfect family, with her perfect parents and her perfect brothers and sisters. She asked about how I grew up and I told her some make-believe story about having a great home life, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t believe me, ya’ know?”

A beer slid in front of me and I looked up to see the bartender’s grin around his cigarette. “Five bucks.”

I pulled a ten out of my pocket and told him to keep the change. Paulie waited until the other man left before he started talking again. “I used to follow her out of the neighborhood after she got done with her shift at the mission. To watch out for her, ya’ know? She was sweet.”

The thought occurred to me that he’d had a crush on little Marie. “So, you followed her the night she died?”

“Yeah. I saw the freak who did it.”

The nerves in my body sang out and my muscles tensed. “So, Paul Smith, who killed Marie?”

Come back next week to find out who killed Marie Francis O'Malley. And check out 3WW for more writing.

Two Sentence Tuesday

2010-02-16T08:18:00.001-06:00

It’s time for Two Sentence Tuesday!

Right now, I’m reading something out of the ordinary for me. Suzanne Brockmann’s Frisco’s Kid. Normally, I’m all for a hot and steamy romance, but while there are some sex scenes, they are pretty tame, tastefully done, and not very compelling to me. That’s just my opinion though. Ask the people who know me, I write porn (I swear it’s tasteful though!).

And on that note, here are the last two lines I read this morning before I had to go to my actual day job:

“I’d never seen a miracle before, but I saw one that day. And when Lucky put that tiny baby in my hands…She was all red and wrinkly, and so alive – this little new life, only a few seconds old.”

The hero is a Navy SEAL and is describing to the heroine they day he and his swim buddy delivered his sister’s baby. It is kind of sweet.

Now, on to my WIP. Here are the last two lines I wrote. They are actually additions to the beginning of the story line. I really needed my two main characters to meet before they “officially” meet. She’s in a bar, a little freaked out because she thinks her ex is stalking her, and runs into (literally) the hero. She’d just spent ten minutes with her slightly tipsy friends discussing the fact that none can find a …. Satisfying relationship. (I say that with a HUGE grin on my face!)

“Most women don’t scream when they see me.” His grin made her forget how to speak. This was a man she was certain would give her an orgasm she didn’t have to provide on her own. And, she bet he would last longer than ten minutes before rolling over and going to sleep.

Hope you have a wonderful day, and head over to the Women of Mystery for more two sentence teasers!

I also noticed that David Cranmer has two sentences up on his blog, too.

Theme Thursday and Thursday 13

2010-02-11T09:11:00.002-06:00

The theme at Theme Thursday this week is mirror. I used the mirror for the foundation of both of my pieces today.

He would never forget the look on her face when she saw him in the mirror. The emotions played swiftly through her eyes. Confusion. Fear. Anger. Resignation.

She knew he was here to kill her, and this time there was no quick escape. She’d taken everything from him. Family, home and career were jerked away with three bullets.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked his reflection.

He raised his eyebrow and looked at her pale face in the shimmery surface. “I’m waiting for you to beg me not to kill you. I’m waiting for you to apologize.”

She smirked, “Not going to happen.”

His expression shifted behind her from smug boredom to pulsing rage. “I’m waiting for my life back, you bitch!”

She saw his hand lift behind her and flinched away, but not fast enough. He wrapped his fist in her hair and shoved her face closer to the mirror. “Why? That’s all I want to know. Why kill my family and frame me?”

“I told you when we got together. I don’t share. Not with your wife. Not with your boys. Once you slept with me, you were mine.” She ended on a gasp when he ground her face into the glass, and the muzzle of his gun pressed into her spine.

“I ought to kill you where you stand, you evil, soul-sucking-.”

She cut him off with a grin when she rubbed her butt against his crotch. “You may hate me, but you still want me, don’t you?”

He stepped back until the only thing touching her with the barrel of his gun. “You took everything away from me.”

“So kill me!” Her screamed words bounced around the tiled room. “Do it!”

For an instant, the finger on the trigger tightened before he lowered the gun. “No.”

“Why not?” She was truly bewildered. Why didn’t he kill her?

She watched as his eyes left her reflection in the mirror and locked onto his own. “I still have to look at myself.”

She closed her eyes and let out a slow breath, never hearing the quiet click of the door behind her.

Head over to Theme Thursday for more writing from this prompt.

I continued the mirror theme with my 13 things for Thursday 13.

13 Things in the Mirror

Hazel eyes that go bright green when filled with tears. They sparkle when I laugh and reflect my fears when I’m lonely.

Hair that once was deep dark chocolate has started to streak with silver. Not gray, not white, but shiny silver I no longer have the patience to cover.

Tiny lines feather from the corners of my eyelids, testifying to the millions of times I’ve laughed in the last 31 years, echoing the humor in my soul.

A normal sized nose rides in the middle of my face. It’s served me well, letting me smell the baby smell of my son just after his bath or the deeper scent of my husband when he holds me close and whispers his love to me.

Lips that are perhaps a bit to thin, but often stretch into a wide smile or pinch into a frown when I am concentrating on a particularly difficult task, cover straight white teeth with a small gap between the front two. They’ve formed words of encouragement, love and occasionally scorn, and held words that changed my life over and over again.

There is a neck that is not long or graceful, but holds my head high, even when I feel defeated.

My breasts are soft and rounded, even though they have relaxed a little over the years. They have pillowed the head of my love when I offered comfort, and provided endless amounts of humor among my not so bountifully gifted relatives.

There are curves in all the right places, and some of the not so right places to. Curves that have come and gone and come back again.

My arms are strong enough to hold onto my family with all I have, and comfort my friends when things are wrong.

The hands I have are small, but have conquered so many great tasks. They have helped me learn to cook and feed my family. They’ve worked tirelessly to master the art of playing the flute well enough to make some people cry. They’ve cramped in pain after hours of writing to help me express my creativity or to just let the darkness lingering in my soul out.

I have hips that are larger than I want, but what woman doesn’t? I try not to worry about that too much.

Then there is the foundation, my support, my legs. They are not long, but they are strong. They carry me forward even when I want to run away. They are marked with scars from my youth and tattoos that tell a story of me growing up.

When I close my eyes and block out what I see in the mirror, I can see the beauty my husband sees when he touches me. I can see the reason my son says, “Mommy pretty,” when he looks up at me. When I close my eyes and look deep inside I can see the creative writer my friends see and I encourage her. When I look away from the mirror, I can see the hunger for a better life for my family searching for a way to escape, and I can see the sliver of darkness left in my soul from disappointment, hurt, fear and anger, looking for a way to grow large and take over. When I open my eyes and look back into the mirror I see a strong, capable woman where before stood a fearful, ashamed girl.

Three Word Wednesday

2010-02-10T09:09:00.003-06:00

It is that time again! Today's prompt words are: Lucid, Righteous and Salvage. I continued last week's story line with this week's words.

A week later, I was still no closer to finding out who killed Marie Francis O’Malley. Her friends and neighbors all loved her. She was a sweet Irish Catholic girl who always had a kind word, did volunteer work at the homeless shelter and the animal rescue shelter, was attending classes at the local community college and wanted to be a kindergarten teacher.

She was so sweet, it made my teeth hurt. Her parents and siblings – all fourteen of them – had descended on me time and time again, but there was nothing else I could tell them.

Lurch, I mean, the coroner, had found that cause of death was asphyxiation due to strangulation. She fought though, and the traces of hair and skin under her nails, and the semen inside her had been sent for a DNA profile.

The phone rang and I jumped. “Detective’s Squad.”

“I need to speak with Detective Luna.” The connection was horrible. I could barely make out the caller’s words under the static.

“This is Luna.” For a moment there was only the pops and hisses on the line.

“I have some information about Marie O’Malley.”

I ripped off the top sheet of my notepad, quickly discarding my distracted doodling, and switched into interrogation mode. “What’s your name?”

“Uh…It’s Paul. Paul Smith.”

Sure. Whatever. “Okay, Paul, what information do you have about Miss O’Malley?”
The connection worsened and I couldn’t make out his words. “Paul, can you still hear me?”

“Yeah, I can hear ya’.” His voice sounded tinny and far away.

“Can we meet?” I was sick of trying to decode his words.

“I don’t know if that would be a good idea.”

“If your info’s good, there may be something in it for your, Paulie.”

“Fine. Meet me at Sabine’s in an hour.”

“How will I know who you are, Paul?”

“I know who you are. I’ll wait for you.”

Sabine’s was one of the city’s newest hotspots. Everyone who was anyone wanted in, so the line stretched down the sidewalk for over half a block. I scanned the crowd with cop eyes, knowing instinctively which ones were doing drugs, selling drugs or had something heavy in their jacket pocket or ruining the line of their clothes. I wasn’t here for that tonight, but I’d definitely give vice a head’s up – if I could salvage my own case.

I thought briefly about standing in line, but hell, I have a badge, and what fun is it to have if you don’t use it? The spike heels on my black leather boots sounded like gunshots as I strode past all of the vacant stares and hostile voices, right up to the bouncer guarding the entrance.

“Sorry lady. Back of the line.” He crossed his arms – or attempted to cross his arms – over his massive chest. “You gotta wait like everybody else.”

He turned away, clearly dismissing me until I shoved my badge in his face. “I think I’ll just go on in, unless you have a problem with that?”

“Listen, I don’t want no trouble. I’m just doin’ my job.” His voice was so deep it almost hurt to hear.

“I’m not trying to wad you up, Tiny. I’m meeting someone.” He looked at me for a few more seconds before motioning me past. I flashed him a quick grin when I heard all of the moans from the waiting crowd.

The music smashed into me. Hard. It felt like a heartbeat throbbing all over my body. I stopped just inside the door and let my eyes adjust to the dim light and overpowering strobe lights.

The dance floor was packed and around the outskirts were tables overflowing with people. In a single sweep of the room I counted seven different drug deals and at least ten times as many underage drinkers. I could only pray my Paul Smith was lucid enough to tell me anything, and that he had something good.

If not I was going to shoot him. And, by God, it would be a righteous shoot. No one makes me miss Monday night football with my dad.

Head over to 3WW to check out what everyone else is writing today!

On a personal note... We had our final adoption hearing on Monday, and Aaron is officially ours now! Big family happiness!

Theme Thursday and Thursday 13

2010-02-04T10:30:00.003-06:00

So, I'm going to try my hand at two new prompts this week. What I came up with are two entries that are polar opposites.

This week, Theme Thursday's prompt is Red.

Red:

The blush stole across her cheeks as I plied her with nonsense endearments and frothy fruity drinks. Too easy. She’s a little…curvy for my taste, but I don’t want to be alone tonight. In a few days I won’t even remember her so her size doesn’t really matter.

I glance at her in the passenger seat to avoid the splashes of color the headlights flash in my eyes. Almost there. Almost home. I don’t want to waste money on a cheap hotel room. I’ll call a cab and have it waiting in an hour. She’ll probably cry when she realizes I don’t want her to stay. Oh, well.

She stumbled through the door in those fire engine fuck me pumps. Who does she think she is wearing shoes that sexy? She didn’t even notice how fast I pulled off her shirt to see what she had hidden under there. Not bad. Not bad at all.

No? She thinks she can tell me no? I paid for her drinks all night. She should be thrilled I even looked at her. She’s begging for it with those damn shoes.

No! How the hell did she get the knife out of the butcher block so fast? Oh, Christ. I’m sorry! Please!

I’m cold. I need to get to the phone. Why is the floor so slick? Oh, God. I’m going to die. Someone is outside honking. Maybe I can make it out the door. They’ll help me.

Don’t leave me like this! I’m going to die and the last thing I’ll ever see is those fucking shoes inching backward to stay out of the pool of blood leaking out of me.

Skip over to Theme Thursday to see more fabulous writing from this prompt.

And here is what I wrote for Thursday 13.

Thirteen things:
1. I love the way my baby boy’s eyes look first thing in the morning – sleepy and happy to see mommy.
2. I love the way my husband smells right where his shoulder meets his neck – warm and male and mine.
3. I love the way my mother says she’s proud of me – sweet smiles and happy tears.
4. I love the way my dad shows he loves me – strong and silent.
5. I love the way my friends encourage my writing – harsh critique and demanding expectations.
6. I love the way my dog trusts me no matter what – wagging tail and soulful eyes.
7. I love the way cold mornings feel on my skin – fresh and exhilarating.
8. I love the way the sheets feel when I first slide into bed – cool and clean.
9. I love the way it feels to get my hair cut – out with the old and in with the new.
10. I love the way it feels when my cat curls up in my arms – heavy warmth and deep purring.
11. I love the way my husband slips his fingers through mine – secure and loved.
12. I love the way my sweet son hugs me – sticky fingers in my hair and love you whispered in my ear.
13. I love the way my heart feels when I look at my family – full of love and leaping with joy.

For more 13's, head on over to Thursday 13.

Hope you enjoyed!

3 Word Wednesday

2010-02-03T09:08:00.001-06:00

Today's words over at 3WW are: frantic, lurch and odor. Head on over to 3WW and check out all the others.

“The maintenance man noticed it first. Said he thought 3B’s fridge was on the fritz and the food inside spoiled.”

I nodded to the uniform standing in front of me, not really listening – I’d already heard the story from the two uni’s outside and the maintenance man himself. “So, who actually found the body?”

“Well, see Detective, that’s kinda a funny story - .”

“Oddly enough, I’m not here for the comedy hour, officer. Who the fuck found the body?” I managed to keep my voice low and not scream in the face of the newbie shuffling around in front of me.

“Sorry, ma’am. The next door neighbor’s dog found the body.”

“What? The dog?”

“Yes, ma’am. We’d just busted in the door to the apartment when the old woman next door opened her door to see what all the noise was and her yappy little dog ran out and straight into our crime scene, and right onto the body.”

“And nobody thought to stop the dog?” I could feel the blood rushing in my ears and a headache made itself known behind my right eye.

“Well, ma’am, he was fast.”

“Whatever.” I left him sputtering to a stop in the middle of the dingy hallway.

Two steps from the victim’s door, the odor hit me like a sledgehammer to the face. Jesus, whoever’s in there is frickin’ ripe.

“Well, hello, Detective.”

To my left stood the coroner - six and a half feet of skin and bones with a freakishly large nose. “Got any idea of when this one bit it?”

“I’d say about a week. Thermostat’s turned way up, so that sped up decomp. And then there was an unfortunate incident with the neighbor’s dog.” He gestured to a place on the vic’s cheek that had a chunk missing. “Guess the little pooch was hungry.”

I turned and slowly surveyed the room. Someone had trashed the place. “Maybe an interrupted burglary?”

“Maybe.” I could hear the frantic yipping of the neighbor’s dog through the thin apartment walls. “Or, maybe she offed herself. Couldn’t stand listening to that damn mutt any longer.”

“Doubt it. She was strangled.”

I looked at him and raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to go on. When he didn’t, I counted to ten and reminded myself to breathe. “So, got anything else for me?”

He looked up from the body and leered at me. There really was no other word for it, other than creepy and disgusting. “Honey, I sure do have something else for you.”

I spun on my heel and walked away when he grabbed his crotch. “Fuck off, Lurch.”

His laughter followed me into the hallway. Just another fun filled Monday morning.

Two Sentence Tuesday

2010-01-26T08:21:00.001-06:00

Hey everyone! It’s Tuesday, so that means it’s time for another two sentence Tuesday.

I entered a contest at http://cornelldeville.blogspot.com and voting ends today at noon, so if you can find it in your heart, I need all the votes I can get. I’m entry 41. Check it out!

Here are two lines from that entry:

She looked closer to a lonely college kid hiding behind heavy eyeliner, purple nail polish and a bad attitude. At least she hadn’t colored her long blond hair an unnatural shade of black.

The last two lines I read were from Nicholas Sparks’ Dear John. I don’t have the book with me, I finished it early yesterday. I know better than to read his books. I cry and then I’m angry about the end. Always. It is a form of self torture for me to read them.

Oh, well. Head on over to the Women of Mystery for more Two Sentence Tuesday! (And thanks for any votes you swing my way!)

Two Line Tuesday

2010-01-19T08:13:00.002-06:00

Things are super busy right now. We are about to open a huge exhibit at work, the final adoption hearing is on February 8, and school is really busy for hubby right now. That said, the only interesting thing I've written lately is a short article for our international newsletter. I'm trying to get back in the swing of things. Think good thoughts that our opening on Friday night goes well!!

Here are the last two lines I read, from Lynne Viehl's Night Lost:
"It is the new communion," Leary said, nodding. "To partake of ruined flesh, turn polluted blood into wine. It is fed to those in rapture so that they might know the power and glory of the lord. Sometimes I am permitted to watch."

And here are a couple of lines from my most recent article:
Coke lived during the age of the oxcart, horse and buggy, the horseless carriage, the atom bomb and the beginning of the space program. He never drove a car, but was an accomplished “back seat” driver. He may not have intended to enter the horse business, but fate had other ideas for him.

For more Two Sentence Tuesday, head over the the Women of Mystery. Have a wonderful day!

Two Sentence Tuesday

2009-11-03T08:46:00.005-06:00

Hi all! I'm back! Life has been crazy busy lately. For all interested Aaron is doing really well. He is adjusting beautifully (better than I am some days). He is starting to have a few night terrors, but we are trying to work through them. It is hard because he still has difficulty communicating sometimes. His speech therapy is going really well, and in the three months he's been with us, he's gone from having a vocabulary of 10-15 words to 100s, and he talks constantly. Our newest game is to read a book to him one time, and then he "reads" it to us. It is amazing what he can remember.

Right now his favorite song is the theme song from Cops. You know the one, "Bad boys, bad boys, what you gonna do, what you gonna do when they come for you." He walks around singing that all the time, except he changed the lyrics. For him the song goes, "Bad dog, bad dog, what you do, what you do."

For only being two, he amazes me. Okay, enough about my personal life, on to the writing. I am participating in NaNoWriMo. It is only a few days in, and I am behind. Not a lot, but behind none the less. I'm really trying to catch up though.

I am reading Charlaine Harris' Dead Until Dark again. And the last two lines I read were:

Not knowing what to think, I went home to find that Andy Bellefleur had been roused by his pager. he'd left me a note telling me that, and nothing else. Later on, I found that he'd actually been in the hospital while I was there, and waited until I was gone out of consideration for me before he'd handcuffed Jason to the bed.

From my NaNo project:

Within minutes Monica Blake had been pushed to the back corner of his mind. Not forgotten, not completely, but not his sole focus any longer. Too many deaths crowded his days.

Take a trip over to the Women of Mystery to check out more Two Sentence Tuesday fun!

3 Word Wednesday

2009-09-02T08:25:00.003-05:00

The prompts at 3WW today are: luster, threat, and glare.

Terror begins to overwhelm me.
Headaches, nausea, aches and pains.
The luster of happiness cracked under stress.
With no way to defend myself,
I tremble in the face of the threat.
It feels like I am under hot lights,
Sweating through their glare.
Fear and loathing coats my skin,
Leaving an oily stain on my soul.

We found out last night that there may be some issues with us adopting our son. Think good thoughts for us, January can't come soon enough.

3WW - Imagination

2009-08-12T08:29:00.003-05:00

This weeks words over at 3WW are: capture, jinx and qualify. Here's a little something about my unfortunate imagination.

It doesn’t take much to capture the attention of someone like me. Someone who watches others, waiting for just the right action, a moment of inattention resulting in calamity. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to jinx anyone, but a little accident makes great fodder for my imagination.

I don’t wish misfortune on anyone, but I wait for it. I watch for the hurried businessman, nose buried in the Wall Street Journal, to trip on a crack in the sidewalk, spill his $12 latte on the lawyer striding the opposite direction, engrossed in her cell phone.

My imagination spins on from there.

Her red dress ruined, the lawyer screams at the businessman, who backs up a step, whacking a homeless man with his briefcase. The homeless man careens into a bike messenger who is distracted by the race he has to win today to qualify for a triathlon. The biker spins out of control and falls onto the busy roadway. A semi truck is roaring down the street, horn blaring, tons and tons of death looming near. When suddenly, a little old lady, a grandma out for a stroll with her young grandson sees what is happening. She tells the boy to stay where he is, and swoops into action. Tossing aside her cane, the old woman dashes into the street, narrowly missing cars whizzing by, grabs the bike messenger by the back of the shirt and jerks him out of harms way.

I smile a little as I watch the reality unfold in front of me. The busy man trips and spills his coffee on the woman in the red dress. She gasps, he apologizes and they both walk away.

Shaking my head, I wander farther down the street hoping for a little more misfortune.

For more fun with words head over to 3WW. It felt so great to write this. I know it isn't a masterpiece, but it is mine and it isn't a report for work or a note for a social worker. It is just pure fiction. Refreshing after almost a month of NO WRITING. Thanks for visiting!

The Mystery of Life

2009-07-17T12:28:00.002-05:00

Why is it that every time I feel like I just can't fight any longer, something happens and changes my life.

As some of you know, hubby and I have been trying to adopt for a while now. The process is slow and ultimatly painful at times, but we hadn't given up. When we first started out, we were positive that we could never be a foster home. How could we ever give a child that we'd grown to love back to someone that had hurt them?

Time went by and we worked with foster homes and the AMAZING foster families in our area. Still not totally convinced we waited, praying we would find the right child for us.

Sometimes, I get discouraged too easily, I know that, hubby knows that, everyone I know, knows that. I was truly afraid we would never find a child that was right for us. So, hubby and I started talking about fostering. It was still just a thought, we weren't totally committed to the idea, but we were thinking about it.

Just about the time we decided to maybe take the chance, God took over our lives.

On Wednesday, two days ago, our adoption caseworker emailed me at 4:45. There was a two year old little boy up for adoption, no mental problems, no physical problems, no real medical problems. The catch, no photo and he had to be placed by the end of the week. Were we interested?

I called hubby. We agreed that yes, this is the one we've been looking for. I called our caseworker and told her yes, yes, yes. We want him. I didn't hear from her again that night.

Fast forward to Thursday. I email our caseworker to ask some questions. Her response. The other social worker has narrowed it down to us and one other couple. It may be a while before we know anything. That was 9:00 am.

At 11:15, I check my cell phone for the millionth time, and I have a voicemail. It's our caseworker. the message: Congratulations. Your son will be in your home on Saturday.

Euphoria quickly turned to panic. It is now Friday. In 24 hours, I will be a mother of a two year old. I'm scared, excited, freaked out, terrified and totally unprepared.

Wish us luck.

Two For Tuesday

2009-06-23T14:10:00.000-05:00

I have written absolutely nothing this week, but today I pulled up one of my unfinished manuscripts to try and get something done on it. After ten minutes of wanting to stab myself in the eye because of all the passive voice, I gave up and just started highlighting all of the be, was, been, has and were’s. It is a little depressing. But, here are the last two lines from it:

His shoulders stiffened. “Lock this behind me when I leave.” Without another word, he left her alone.
“Well, Sam,” she looked at the puppy, “looks like it’s you and me against the world.”

As for what I am reading, I just finished Jodie Picoult’s My Sister’s Keeper. Wonderful, amazing book – made me cry like a baby. I won’t give you the last two lines, but here are a few that I liked. It is more than two again, but I’ve always been an overachiever.

“No,” I say automatically. “He’s a service dog.”
“Oh.” The woman straightens, pulls her son away. “But you aren’t blind.”
I’m epileptic, and this is my seizure dog. I think about coming clean , for once, for the first time. But then again, you have to be able to laugh at yourself, don’t you? “I’m a lawyer,” I say, and I grin at her. “He chases ambulances for me.”

I hope things are good with everyone in the world.

Two For Tuesday

2009-06-02T08:23:00.001-05:00

Things have been frighteningly busy the last few weeks and I am finally starting to catch my breath. Here’s a quick recap of recent events:

We are gearing up for a new major exhibit at work, so I am snowed under there.

Friday was my birthday and it was an extremely good and extremely bad day. My wonderful hubby hid cards and presents for me all over the house, but part of my family and most of my friends forgot it was even my birthday, and hubby was out of town. But, on the same day we received our adoption certification. We are now officially approved by the state to adopt not one, but two children. Yay us! My amazing little brother (and I use that term loosely because he is now at least 6 feet tall) took me to a horrible movie. We went to see Drag Me To Hell, and let me tell you now, the scary parts are only when someone is jumping out at you, otherwise, it is very funny. We laughed a lot, but were disappointed. We both love a good scary movie.

Saturday, hubby and I attended a friend’s wedding. She used to be one of my very best friends, and hubby actually had dated her a couple of times in college, but now, I hardly ever see or hear from her. It made me sad.

Sunday, we cleaned house, sorta, and were generally bums.

Yesterday was the big day for my brother-in-law and his wife. The doctors induced her labor and in just over three hours, we had a new addition to our family. Things didn’t go so well from there though. The baby aspirated during delivery and his lungs weren’t working well at all. Late yesterday afternoon, they intubated him. Scary stuff. He has been on the ventilator all night, but at around midnight my brother-in-law called and they are weaning the baby off oxygen, so hopefully they will take the tube out sometime this afternoon.

So, that’s it on the home front. Now on to the reading and writing portion of the day’s entertainment. Right now I am reading Whispered Lies by Sherrilyn Kenyon and Dianna Love. I’m a freak for anything Sherrilyn Kenyon/Kinley MacGregor. So, here are the last two lines I read:

Carlos slipped his knife from its sheath and entered silently. He moved two whispered steps and reached for a fist of thick, black hair. As he whipped the man’s head back, exposing his throat to the razor-sharp blade, Carlos got a clear shot of the young woman lying still as death – Mandy – her wrists bleeding profusely. Merde.

I love the tension in these sentences. Love it. And here are a couple of sentences from a freelance project I am working on:

Nobody ever told me growing up that sometimes the one you think is your one true love might not really be. No one ever told me that I might have to start looking again after I turned forty.

Now, I’m not forty, I’m (ahem) thirty something. This was written from a man’s point of view in first person. That was a challenge for me. I’m not so great at first person, I always want to slip into third, but the hardest part was writing about a forty year old man! There came a point of desperation late last night that I almost called my dad and asked him how he would react to certain situations, but I toughed it out and made it through, and I think it turned out pretty well. We’ll see if I get paid for it though, right!

Hope everyone is having a great day, and for more two sentence fun, drop by the Women of Mystery.

Really great writing

2009-05-21T10:35:00.000-05:00

On occasion I get to read some really great writing and today was one of those days. A local second grade class came to visit us and wrote us letters to say thank you. Sometimes, it takes a group to figure out what they really say, so to help in your future reading pleasure here are some of our all-time favorite misspellings.

Here are the sentences as written, and then our interpretation of them.

Sentence - This wus the funest filchrip ever.
Interpretation – This field trip gave me a new insight on the world we live in and was highly entertaining.

Sentence – Thank you for lating us come hear.
Interpretation – It was an honor and a privilege to visit your institution.

Sentence – I came here wunts before, this is my secint time.
Interpretation – I found it to be so intellectually stimulation that I had to make a return visit.

Sentence – I liked where I culd see his musuls and bones.
Interpretation – It was fascinating to see the musculature and bone structure in such detail.

Sentence – I liked seeing the Amarikine horses.
Interpretation – I’m proud to see such a fine example of American horses.

Sentence – The herse wus really cool.
Interpretation – There were many interesting things to see, but I was fascinated by the horse.

Sentence – Thang you for the pinciels and letting us in the play aire.
Interpretation – I appreciate the gift of pencils and the freedom and intellectual opportunities in the education gallery.

Sentence – I liked it and my techar really liked it.
Interpretation – My instructor and I both enjoyed the refreshing environment.

Sentence – I loved the penicals and upsters.
Interpretation – The pencils were a useful tool to take notes on all of the amazing items displayed on your second floor.

Sentence – I relley liked it. It wus so so so cool.
Interpretation – I really liked it. It was so so so cool.

Sentence – This was abslootlee my favorite.
Interpretation – This was absolutely my favorite.

Two Sentence Tuesday

2009-05-19T08:27:00.002-05:00

Happy Tuesday all! I hope things are well in the blogosphere. Things have been super hectic here. Our home study came back yesterday, but our social worker didn’t say it was good or bad, so now I’m super worried. On a happy note I was notified yesterday that I am a finalist again this year at the Frontiers in Writing contest. Last year I placed first in the Romance category. This year, I entered my current WIP, and I didn’t think it stood a chance. I mean, here we are smack dab in the middle of the Bible Belt and I entered an erotica piece. I know I am a decent writer, but I figured the subject matter would boot me right out of the competition. It was a complete surprise when I got the email yesterday.

Right now, I am reading the Night World series by L. J. Smith. It is a set of three volumes with three books in each volume. It is marketed as a teen series, but so far, I’m thinking it is more of a young reader than a teen series. All of the characters are immature, whiny and selfish. I’m having a hard time staying interested, and wouldn’t you know I bought the whole series. I’m currently reading the third book in the first volume, titled Spellbinder. Here are the last two lines I read:

“It’s Blaise’s fault,” Thea said. She was mad at Blaise. “She does – things – to boys. Human boys. And somehow it always ends up getting us kicked out of school. Both of us, because I’m always too stupid to tell them she’s the one responsible.”

Normally, I really enjoy reading teen series. As much as everyone hates on it, I like Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight books, I love The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, The Boy In The Striped Pajamas by John Boyne, but these I’m not loving. Oh, well, it was worth a shot.

Now, here are the last two lines I wrote. Please be gentle with me, I’m feeling a little fragile right now!

Mariska like to write things down. Not necessarily things she was working on, but thoughts and ideas that crossed her mind when she was otherwise preoccupied. With the stress of holding down her job at the precinct and building up her own business, she felt the quick notes she was able to jot down were her last hope at fulfilling the dream of being a writer. They were her creative outlet inside days filled with codes and puzzles.

I know. It is more than two sentences. It is double that, but what can I say? I’m an overachiever! Send good thoughts my way about the home study, I’m a little bit freaked out. Have a great day, and for more Two Sentence Tuesday, sneak over and visit the Women of Mystery.

3WW - Meet Me At Zero's

2009-05-06T10:25:00.005-05:00

Today's prompts at 3WW are: Cryptic, Flash, and Malign. Another semi-dark piece. Enjoy!

“Meet me at Zero’s at 11:30 tonight. I have information for the story you are doing about Mayor Ford. I’ll find you there.”

The cryptic message on her voice mail left her confused. The voice was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it. And why Zero’s? The club that catered to the goth crowd.

Cynda dug through her closet trying to find something black, other than her favorite little black dress to wear to the meeting. Black slacks, nope. Black silk blouse, nope. After a few minutes of digging she unearthed a pair of ripped jeans from her college days, a blood red corset top from last Halloween, combat boots from research she’d done on survival camp, and a black leather bomber jacket her ex-boyfriend had forgotten when he moved out.

She surveyed the look in the mirror and wasn’t thrilled. “Close enough.”

Bass pounded through the cavernous space like a heartbeat. Shadows clung to everything, flickering in the dim light of hundreds of candles. Feeling smothered, Cynda struggled to draw a breath in the crush of bodies. Every few minutes a flash of light would pulse through the club, illuminating the couples huddled in the darkest corners.

The music throbbed loud and heavy, making it feel like her bones were resonating in time with the beat. She didn’t know who to look for, so her eyes briefly landed on every face in the crowd.

At the bar she squeezed onto a bar stool between two heavily muscled men and ordered a Jack and coke. Cynda sipped the watered down drink and wondered who had left her the message. The voice had been female, and something tickled her brain and told her she knew who it was.

A tap on her shoulder had her spinning around, slamming her knee into the bar on the way.

“Dang, girl! That had to hurt.” The kid standing in front of her was in his early twenties and had so much metal in his face that it had to be impossible for him to get through airport security.

She absently rubbed the ache in her knee. “What’s up?”
“How ‘bout you come dance with me?” He leered at the cleavage pushing the limits of the corset’s control. He jacked his jeans up and all the chains hanging from his pants rattled loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Thanks, but I don’t think so.” She tried to turn back around, but his hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Look buddy –.”

He leaned in close and spoke in her ear. “Listen, I don’t want to be here any more than you do, okay. You are just supposed to come with me. She said to tell you she had information.”

Cynda gulped the rest of her drink and slid off the stood. Grabbing his hand so she wouldn’t loose him in the throng on the dance floor, she waited for him to lead the way.

He nodded and the look in his eyes far older than his years made her wonder what had happened to him. He dragged her across the club to a dark hallway that led to the restrooms. “Go into the third stall and wait there.”

She started down the hall and again he stopped her. “Watch yourself in there.”

“Thanks.”

The stall was cramped and covered in graffiti, but within seconds hard hands pulled her out and pushed her against a wall. “Why do you want information on Mayor Ford?”

The same voice from her voice mail.

“I’m doing a story on him.” The rough cinder block wall abraded her face.

“Why?” The other woman leaned heavily on Cynda.

“Because I’m a reporter, damn it. That’s my job.” Air flowed into her lungs when the pressure was taken off her back. “Can I turn around.”

“What do you know about, Daniel Ford?”

Cynda turned slowly to face her informant. Shock held her immobile for a second. “Mrs. Ford?”

“What do you know about my husband?” The normally elegant Angela Ford was dressed in leather and chains with enough black eyeliner ringing her eyes to take care of four goth girls. “I’m not going to ask again. Tell me what you know.”

Unease skittered down Cynda’s spine. “I know there is a rumor spreading that he can’t keep his hands off your babysitter.”

The ice in Angela’s eyes was malign. “That son of a bitch has a thing for teenager boys. I’m going to give you all the nasty dirty details and you, my dear are going to make sure he never sees the light of day again.”

Six weeks later a jury of his peers convicted Mayor Daniel Franklin Ford to forty years in prison. His high priced lawyer immediately filed an appeal. Mrs. Angela Ford sat in the court room day after day in her beautiful suits; her manicured hands grasped tightly in her lap and never shed a tear.

Before he left the court room after the verdict, Mayor Ford was handed divorce papers by his wife’s high-priced lawyer. His shocked eyes met hers and she blew him a kiss.

For more fun with three words, take a short jaunt over to 3WW to read more.

Two Sentence Tuesday

2009-04-28T08:57:00.000-05:00

Two Line Tuesday is super busy today. Last night I was blessed to see Maya Angelou speak. When she walked on the stage, I got chills. The venue was packed, and every single person there stood and applauded. Ms. Angelou spoke, sang, laughed, cracked jokes and lit up the arena with her beautiful smile. It was a once in a lifetime experience that I will hold dear. I was able to share that with my hubby and my mother, and ran into a few friends while there.

Maya Angelou is a powerful speaker, beautiful woman and true talent. She spoke last night about rainbows in the clouds. Every part of your life is filled with rainbows of people who love you, care for you and want to help you. She ended with advice for all of us to become rainbows for someone else.

I won’t lie to you. Hearing her speak made me tear up. This woman who at 16 was an unmarried, pregnant, six foot tall black woman in the south, never let go of her dreams and look what she’s become…

So, for my last two lines read, I give you en excerpt of Maya Angelou’s I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.

What sets one Southern town apart from another, or from a Northern town or hamlet, or city high-rise? The answer must be the experience shared between the unknowing majority (it) and the knowing minority (you).

My last two are edits of a piece I am getting ready for submission:

So, he walked and searched and screamed wordlessly at the night, anguish coated the sound. He’d find the murdering bastard, then he’d take care of the source of his torment.

And a quick update. Tonight is our DFPS Home Study. I’m a nervous wreck, but I think we will do okay. Listening to Maya Angelou last night and a lot of Mozart today has helped me relax a little.

I hope everyone has a great day and for more Two Line Tuesdays head on over to the Women of Mystery.

My Town Monday

2009-04-27T08:57:00.002-05:00

Ya'll head on over to Travis Erwin's blog, One Word, One Rung, One Day. He has an absolutely fabulous My Town Monday post up about The American Quarter Horse Hall of Fame & Museum.

3WW Treachery

2009-04-22T08:26:00.002-05:00

The prompts at 3WW today are deceit, indulge and oath. I don't know why every Wednesday I am inspired to write about killing someone, but I am. I really don't think I'm a psychotic serial killer. This writing technique, using the last word of the prior sentence to begin the next sentence, was something that we talked about at a writing conference I went to last year. I haven't done a lot with it, but I wanted to today. For more fiction and some amazing poetry check out 3WW. Here is my submission for the week.

Your deceit – your damn treachery – led me to this. This - because you couldn’t just let her go. Go away - how could she have been more important than the mother of your children? Children you swore to love. Love is your unfulfilled promise. Promise - it makes me want to laugh or cry – I’m not sure. Sure, you swore, but your solemn oath isn’t worth the time it took you to work up a fake tear and pledge to me that you wouldn’t see her again. Again you couldn’t help but indulge yourself, could you? You and her in our bed. The bed we created our precious children in. In that bed, I thought we loved, you and I. I could have handled it if you had just taken her and left. Left me alone to try to piece my life back together. Together, the two of you could have made a new life. Life that didn’t include me, or the hurt you left. Left me to hate you, but I still want you. You made this choice. Choices are all I have left of our life. A life that you shattered. Shattered like the mirror behind you did when I fired the gun. The gun that you bought me to protect myself, the children, our home. Our home is defiled – the floor covered in blood. Blood pouring from you. You made me kill you.

Two Fer Tuesday

2009-04-21T09:21:00.004-05:00

It is two line Tuesday time again (cue awesome game show music!). I actually wrote about a page and a half this week. How sad is that? I’m excited over a page and a half. I’ve been so busy with work and adoption classes the last two months, I haven’t written anything, and I’m suffering for it. I don’t know about anyone else, but when I’m not able to do something creative (write, play music) I start having weird dreams that progress into nightmares that progress into ‘Crystal hasn’t slept in two weeks and is exhibiting signs of psychosis.’ But, I digress. Right now, I am reading Lora Leigh’s (I wanna be her when I grow up…) Dangerous Games. Here are two wonderful sentences from the book:

There were no words – there was no need for them. As he consumed her kiss, he was consumed in return.

And (drum roll please!) two lines that although not so great right now, actually came out of my head and onto paper – imagine that – me getting to write.

Kellen the Sadist barked out the order and Mariska punched at his left glove, missed and hit him in the stomach. Her wrapped fist met his abdomen with a satisfying smack, but other than a whoosh of air, he didn’t seem to notice.

For more Two Line Tuesday head over and check out the amazing Women of Mystery.

3WW on Thursday - More Content Warning

2009-04-16T08:46:00.004-05:00

It is time for another 3WW. The words this week are allure, perch and vivid. Head on over to 3WW for more posts. I know I'm a day late, but I was busy. Please forgive me. Here is the final post for my dark little ditty that I have been working on. And today's is REALLY dark, and has a twist of irony at the end. Isn't that how life always is though, a little irony right at the end?

He followed the murderer and the prostitute a few blocks to a part of town that looked abandoned. He could see the allure in the busted out windows and darkened street lights. No witnesses. He pulled over and stroked the gleaming 9mm resting on the passenger seat, and watched the girl get dragged into the closest building.
Quietly he slunk around the side of the gutted warehouse and risked a quick look in the broken pane of glass. Neither noticed him so he resumed his perch and waited for his heartbeat to slow. His hands shook, and a cold sweat covered his entire body. The grip on his gun was slippery so he wiped his hand off on his trousers and prayed for all he was worth. Was it worth it? Was avenging his sister worth the rest of his life? Risking eternity in Hell?

He blew out a long breath, extended his arm, and let his sight narrow in on the man forcing his cock between the crying girl’s lips. Mascara streaked down her face and he could tell she was struggling to breath. The man jerked her hair and forced her farther down, just as the gun went off.

The bullet ripped through the back of the man’s head, exploding out of his face. Vivid blood coated the whore’s hair, and thicker chunks slid down her cheeks. The man fell and his penis slid from her mouth with a pop, and as soon as she drew a full breath, a scream peireced the night.

He hissed at her to be quiet, but she couldn’t hear over her own panic. She struggled to her feet, leaving a purse filled with condoms behind and ran toward the door they’d entered through. He tried to stop her, he really did, but she wouldn’t listen to him.

What happened next couldn’t have been avoided. She’d ruin everything. Go to the cops, shit, she knew who he was. He didn’t want to do it, but when she wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t stop screaming, he leveled the gun and fired.

Two For Tuesday

2009-04-14T08:26:00.001-05:00

We finished! We’re done! Class is over. One last hurdle to jump (the state’s home visit) and we will have a child. I am so giddy I can hardly sit in my chair. I know it isn’t important to anyone else in the world, but I want to shout it out and throw a party and I wish everyone understood how important it is to hubby and I. (Don’t tell him, but I’m still terrified!)

So, on with the Twofers. Super busy week again, but here is something that I wrote, recently:

A badge, clipped at the waist of well worn jeans, shone in the dim light of the lab. The gun on his hip made him look even more dangerous.
And right now I’m reading the absolutely fabulous Beyond Heaving Bosoms: The Smart Bitches’ Guide to Romance Novels by Sarah Wendell and Candy Tan. By the time I read the first page I was laughing out loud. These two are great, and if you haven’t visited their website, head on over. Here are a couple of lines from early on in the book that made me laugh, and even made hubby laugh, and yes, I know it is more than two lines, but I couldn’t help myself:

And then we get to the landscape of paranormals:” Vampires! Werewolves! Vampire werewolves! Mummies! Psychics! The undead! The reanimated! The demonic and the celestial! The slayers, the fey, the wee fold, the fairies, trolls, and selkies. They all fall under “paranormal,” which has its roots in an ancient Greek word meaning “overcrowded genre.”

For way more Two Sentence Tuesday, make the short trek over to visit the Women of Mystery!

3WW - Content Warning

2009-04-08T09:14:00.003-05:00

It's time for another 3 Word Wednesday. The prompts this week were: Flirt, Ploy and Stunning.

I'm still trying to let my "hero" finish his story and get revenge. I think this is going to have to be the next to last installment for him. He's very dark, and way too obsessed. This weeks clip is a little more explicit, but he's very close to the killer. Don't read this if you are offended easily, please. Otherwise, enjoy at your own risk.

He watched the working girl flirt for over an hour before the one he was looking for showed up. Not a stunning girl by any means, life on the streets sucked all the pretty out of her a long time ago.

The longer he watched, though, the more attractive she got. He knew his obsession was going to kill him, but what did he have to live for anyway?

His precious little wife had moved on and was screwing her divorce lawyer, and his two kids couldn’t wait to leave when he had them on his bi-weekly visits. They hid in their rooms playing video games and on the phone, and at 6:00 on Sunday would be waiting by the door, crap packed in their suitcases, ready to go back to grandma’s house.

Life sucked at this point. But watching the prostitute flash her saggy breasts and offer dates to anonymous men for a few bucks, and finding it a turn on, made him realize just how low he’d sunk. Her ploy wasn’t even that great. Flash them some T & A and expect them to cough up the money, but by the sheer number of trips around the block to the alley she made, he knew she must be doing pretty good. He wondered what she considered a good night. Twenty tricks? Fifty?

He’d been talking to the girl for a few weeks now. She’d been in the park. She’d seen the sick son of a bitch rape and kill his sister and had been too scared to do anything about it. He’d wanted to kill her, but couldn’t bring himself to wring her scrawny little neck. So, they worked out a deal. He’d watch her at night and if the guy showed back up she’d give him a signal – drop her purse and let all of the condoms fall on the ground. He thought it was stupid, but couldn’t come up with a better idea. She’d seen it on an episode of Cops.

As soon as the dark sedan pulled up, her purse hit the ground. Gold wrapped Trojans and flavored Lifestyles littered the sidewalk, and her eyes were wide with panic. Still, he waited until she picked up all her party favors and got in the car with the psycho bastard. He was probably letting her screw her way to a death sentence but he didn’t care at this point.

The engine in his twenty year old Toyota coughed and sputtered to life before he pulled into traffic and followed the dark sedan. What the hell was he doing? He had a degree in accounting for Christ’s sake. He wasn’t a cop. He wasn’t a P.I., but here he was following the man who had probably killed his sister and the prostitute that had given him a blow job to save her own life.

Visit 3WW for more pieces featuring today's prompts!

Two Line Tuesday

2009-04-07T08:37:00.001-05:00

Happy Tuesday! This week has been a little better, so far, than last week. I’ve had a little breathing room, but the stress is already snowballing. Hubby and I have to attend a psychotropic drug class tonight and the health inspector is coming to our house on Thursday and on Friday, hubby goes to have his FBI fingerprinting done. We went through the cabinets this weekend to check expiration dates and to see if we had any dented cans. Things like hamburger helper and Vienna sausages, you know, the things that you think should outlive a nuclear blast, well, not so much. Our cabinets are empty. The refrigerator won’t take too long, we are eating leftovers like there is no tomorrow to get rid of them (I hate leftovers, by the way, so this is some kind of torture.) After that, we have one last class on Monday night, then a full day of classes on Saturday the 18th. Following that, we should have our big home study and be ready to rock and roll. I’m excited, scared, nervous, stressed, euphoric, you name an extreme emotion, I’m pretty sure I have been there in the last six weeks.

So, the last two lines I read are from Chelsea Cain’s Heart Sick. I really like this book, it is interesting.

Henry looked at Archie, holding his gaze for a moment, then turned his shaved head back toward Gretchen. He still had his meaty fist around her slender wrist, and for a moment Susan thought he might just snap it in two.
And the last two lines I wrote this week were for an article that will be published at the end of this month about an AQHA Hall of Fame member.

On his 14 Ranch, Walter Merrick produced some of the top running American Quarter Horses of all time. Merrick has been quoted as saying, “We raise the horses we run and run the horses we raise.”

For more Two Line Tuesday, head over to the Women of Mystery. Hope you have a great day!

Sunday Scribblings on Monday

2009-04-06T09:17:00.001-05:00

I'm a little slow at this, but on Sundays, I don't ever really look at the computer. Anyways, the prompt over at Sunday Scribblings is: What have you got to celebrate. I have a lot.

I need to remember to celebrate more often. The list of things to celebrate in my life is endless. I have an amazing family, who loves and cares for me no matter what. I have a husband who takes care of me when I’m sick, lifts me up when I’m down and loves me when I feel unlovable. I have a good, stable job in the midst of an economic crisis. I have an old house that I love, even if the paint on almost every wall is a boring cream color. I have pets that shower me with affection. I have friends… friends that are the most amazing people in the world. I have my health, even when my back hurts and my sinuses are backed up into my brain. I have a car that will make it to and from work everyday, and keep me warm or cool. I have enough money in the bank to pay my bills on time every month with a little left over to play. I have the amazing opportunity to adopt a child that needs all the love that my husband and I can give him. I am able to see my friends’ children and share in the joy they have in them. I am able to spend time with the ones I love. I am warm, I am fed, I am clothed, and I am loved. I should celebrate every minute I’m able to draw a breath.

Two For Tuesday

2009-03-31T08:38:00.000-05:00

I haven’t had a whole lot of time to read fiction lately. We have been doing a lot of reading for class. The last I read was last night, and it was on signs and identifying children who have been victims of sexual abuse, so, I am going to skip the last two lines read part. I had nightmares all night.

Skipping forward, I haven’t written a lot lately, I’m trying, I really am, but by the time I get sat down to start, I’m physically and emotionally drained. But, here are a couple of sentences from a previous chapter, and yes, I cheated, there are three.

He thought of those lush pink lips and immediately started to sweat. She was all deep eyes, plump lips and rich, dark hair. It made him glad to be a single, healthy male.

For more Two Sentence Tuesday, head over and visit the Women of Mystery.

Sunday Scribblings on a Windy Monday

2009-03-30T16:30:00.001-05:00

The prompt at Sunday Scribblings today is: Well, we're all as old as we have ever been, and we're all at different stages of considering the aging process. What thoughts do you have on the subject?

I’m older than I ever thought I would be. I feel older than I am some days, and others, I don’t know how old I really am. Life is funny that way. Sometimes things happen, and weigh a person down, dragging at their hopes and dreams, until all they feel is lonely, detached and hollow. Days like those are when I feel the oldest. I ache those days, not just mentally, but physically I hurt. Then there are times when life goes your way. You waste a dollar on a scratch off lottery ticket and have to rush home and wake your husband up from his nap to confirm that you did just win $250. Days when the sunshine rains down on your, the air is calm and you can take a break to play with your dog in the backyard, those are the young days. The day you cross the street to go swing in the park and your husband pushes you higher and higher, when you lean back and get dizzy from staring up at the swaying sky, those are the carefree days – days when the world doesn’t strike out at you. Dizzy, sunny, laughing days.

You're Good For My Ego

2009-03-26T08:56:00.003-05:00

I just have to say that being on here has been great for my writing ego. I know every writer goes through times when they feel like they aren't good enough, I feel that way frequently, but then I write something quick and dirty for a blog on here and the comments I get back are amazing, even if they sometimes sting a little. So, I just want to say thanks! You are all awesome!

3WW x 2

2009-03-25T11:19:00.002-05:00

Since I was out of town last week, I used last week's three words and this week's three words for today's post. For more three worded fun head over to 3WW and see what everyone else is writing. Again, this is a continuation on the last two 3WWs.
Last weeks words were: burden, natural, ubiquitous. This weeks are: earnest, layer, and reactive.

The burden of finding the slaughterer of innocence rested heavy on his shoulders. His earnest search uncovered layers of hidden flotsam and jetsam and the ubiquitous fear that he would never avenge her haunted him. The fact that his life had become a reactive routine bothered him less than the reality of his liability in his sister’s death. The rage tearing at his guts night after night had become completely natural to him. The only thing that had pulled him out of his pattern in the last weeks had been his wife’s abandonment. She couldn’t live with the new hollow out version of the man she’d married. He couldn’t work up enough emotion to shed even a single tear when she’d taken the kids and gone to her mother’s. Let them live with the bitch for a few weeks. By the time they came back, he’d take care of the murdering trash that killed his sister. By then, there might not be anything left for them to come back to. If he didn’t find something to fill up the void left in his soul soon, the insanity he’d been holding back for weeks would take over and nothing would matter.

I'm BACK!

2009-03-23T09:13:00.003-05:00

I have never been so glad to be in an airplane as I was on Friday night. We landed at about 8:15, my amazing hubby was waiting for me at the gate. We went and visited my parents and my brothers who were both home from college, then...we went to Hastings for the midnight release.

Don't tell me you don't know what midnight release. Twilight. I'll say it again and again, it's not a 'cult,' it's a following. I'm sticking to that. And yes, I dragged my weary self with luggage into our house at a little after one in the morning. Threw my suitcase on the couch, pulled the movie out of the bag, ripped that puppy open, stuck it into the DVD player in the bedroom and fell asleep listening to the dulcet tones of Edward. (I think hubby may banish this movie from the sleepy time routine!)

Saturday, oh Saturday, what the hell did we do on Saturday? Oh, yeah, hubby had a hockey game and my youngest brother and I taped and painted the living room. Well, half of it anyways, it's going to be two colors. Sunday, finished painting the living room and touching up the hallway, it is so pretty. Then, I got to go and buy new clothes. How fun is that.

I'm still super exhausted from a week in El Paso. It wasn't a bad place to visit, but I wouldn't want to stay for any real length of time. There are some shady characters there. I got to visit some amazing museum's and eat the best food I've ever had (I love all things hot and spicy), but I was more than ready to come home.

So how did everyone else spend their spring break?

Five Fabulous Blogs

2009-03-16T16:27:00.002-05:00

Here are the rules:
You must include the person that gave you the award, and link it back to them.
You must list 5 of your Fabulous Addictions in the post. You must copy and paste these rules in the post. Right click the award icon & save to your computer then post with your own awards.

My five obsessions as:

1. My amazing hubby.
2. My family.
3. My Writing.
4. Books.
5. Learning.

And my Five Fab Blogs:
1. One Word, One Rung, One Day
2. A Day In The Life
3. Women of Mystery
4. Attack of The Redneck Mommy
5. I Need My Wit To Kick In

(Of course, there are many other good ones too, so don't hesitate to check out all the links.)

Purple prose on crack

2009-03-13T09:15:00.002-05:00

This is what happens when metaphors go feral. I think my brain may have exploded. It make me feel MUCH better about what I write though. Seriously, pop on over and take a look. You'll understand. Take some ibuprofen with you, I promise, you'll need it!

The Reader - A Book Review in Threes

2009-03-12T11:13:00.004-05:00

I was asked by a few of you to give a review of The Reader by Bernhard Schlink. So, here it is in a shamelessly stolen format. Thanks, Travis! (Go visit Travis’ blog, it’s awesome!)

The Reader is the story of a young Michael Berg. At fifteen he gets sick on his way home from school, and is rescued by Hanna, a woman more than twice his age. They become lovers until she disappears.

Michael is haunted by Hanna’s disappearance and compares every lover he has to her, and none measure up to Hanna. Years later, Michaels sees Hanna again. He is a law student sitting in on a case of Nazi guards accused of horrible crimes, and she is one of the defendants. During the trial, she refuses to defend herself against the accusations. Michael becomes obsessed with her, but is confused by the inconsistencies of her testimony. He knows she is hiding something.

After the trial, Michael is consumed by his thoughts of Hanna, until he figures out a way to continue their relationship, and to try to put the past to rest.

3 Reasons To Like This Book:

1. The Reader is a quick read, it took me about a day, but it is still emotionally engaging.

2. There is a lot of literature dealing with WWII, but most is from the Jewish and Polish perspective. There isn’t a lot about post-war Germany. The Reader shows a slice of the emotions and reasoning from a character that is passionate about the wrongs done by his country, but also conflicted about his feeling for one of the perpetrators.

3.The book is filled with deeper themes – Michael and Hanna’s relationship, the impact of the Nazis on Germany, how love and loss change a person. Because all of these themes are brought about subtly, it doesn’t feel like you are being beat over the head with them.

3 Reasons Not To Like This Book:

1. The author is very descriptive and occasionally talks in circles, making some passages overly descript and almost confusing.

2. You don’t enjoy reading in the first person. This annoys some people since they don’t know what other characters are thinking and feeling. With this book, you only get Michael Berg’s perspective on things.

3. You aren’t interested in the far reaching ramifications of war, or don’t like well written, sensitive reading material.

3 Lines beginning with the 3rd sentence on page 33 of the novel:

I don’t mean to say she lacked tenderness and didn’t give me pleasure. But she did it for her own playful enjoyment, until I learned to take possession of her too. That came later.

There was a sentence in the book that was incredibly powerful for me. It is on the next to last page of the novel and sums up life, love and loss very well.

The tectonic layers of our lives rest so tightly one on top of the other that we always come up against earlier events in later ones, not as matter that has been fully formed and pushed aside, but absolutely present and alive.

3WW

2009-03-11T11:35:00.002-05:00

Today's words, furnished by 3WW were: Cajole, temper and recluse. I chose to do a continuation of last week's 3WW. It is dark too.

The pain, the rage, the guilt – it ate at his soul. Night after night, he rambled through the park. Seeking out the recluses hidden in deep, dark places. Cardboard surrounded barrels of fire. The smell of wasted hope and unfulfilled dreams suffocating in the black pool of despair. Pieces of his soul withered and died every time these unseen people denied him entrance. They tempered refusal with sorrow, but none of that helped him. He had to find the refuse of humanity that had taken his sister. The scrap of a man that had spoiled the one spark of light left in his life. He tried to cajole the dismal outsiders into giving him any hint of where the murderer had gone. When that didn’t work, he flashed the burnished chrome-plated Smith and Wesson. The effort was futile – they’d scattered like fragments of a nightmare, scurrying off to dark corners. The police wouldn’t help him, vigilante justice was beneath them. The hidden society of humanity, living on castoffs of society wouldn’t help him, he wasn’t of their community. So, he walked, and searched, and screamed wordlessly at the night, anguish coating the sound. He’d take care of the murdering bastard. Then, he’d take care of the source of his torment.

For more fun and games, go visit 3WW and check out what others have written.

Two Line Tuesday

2009-03-10T09:17:00.002-05:00

So, I haven’t written anything this week, I’ve been too busy with classes, but here are two random sentences from the last few pages I wrote:

“Why would you want me to go to the gym with you? Last time was a disaster. I limped for two weeks.”

“Detective Dawson goes to the gym every morning. Here’s your chance to see him all hot and sweaty.” Serena waggled her eyebrows.

I’m about to start reading The Reader by Bernhard Schlink. The first two sentences of the book are:

When I was fifteen, I got hepatitis. It started in the fall and lasted until spring.

On a personal note, our first home inspection is this coming Monday. I’m still scared, but am working on calming down.

For class we had to do a detailed family tree, and I never realized before that my family breeds like rabbits - there was a population explosion during the 90s.

Karin’s beautiful baby turns one year old on the 16th, and I got some WAY cute stuff for him.

My brother-in-law and his wife are still doing well with her pregnancy and Kaden is due June 11th. I got some WAY cute stuff for him as well.

Our last class is on April 13th. By then we will be licensed and ready to go. We learned a little about the process last night and it is much faster than what I thought, but not as fast as I’d hoped.

I’ll be out of town next week, starting on Tuesday. I’ll miss you guys, but I have to go to El Paso for a week and hang out with other museum type people. Okay, I know, we're museum geeks.

Send good thoughts our way, we need all the luck we can get!

For more two line fun head over to The Women of Mystery and The Education of a Pulp Writer.

Three Word Wednesday

2009-03-04T08:36:00.004-06:00

So, over at 3WW, today's words are: Avenge, Genuine, Ramble.

Here is my attempt with those three. A little dark, a little mysterious, possibly a good start to my next MS. I like this one, and had a great time writing it!

The need to avenge his sister’s murder was a genuine rage under his skin, biting and burning, until it led to his ramble around the park. Searching for the monster that killed her, night after night, brought him some measure of relief from the pain and anger, but nothing eased the guilt that ate at his gut. It was his fault she was dead. His fault she’d been wandering around after dark, crying, drunk. It was his fault someone had attacked her and left her to bleed to death, laying on the path near the rhododendrons. If he hadn’t told her the man she thought was her father, the man that raised her and loved her, wasn’t really her father, she wouldn’t have left to go have a drink or two at the bar. She’d been smart enough to know she couldn’t drive herself home, but not smart enough to call a cab. She’d been easy prey for the thief, or rapist or murderer. Whatever you want to call him. The mud caked in her nostrils said he forced her face down in the flowerbed, the torn clothing said he forced himself on her, and the fact that her wallet was missing said he forced her to give it to him, or maybe he’d just taken it after he stabbed her. It didn’t matter now. Once he found the monster that killed his sister, it would be over. All the pain, all the rage, all the guilt. He’d take care of it all.

Two Line Tuesday

2009-03-03T09:44:00.002-06:00

I made my deadline for the contest! Thanks to everyone who asked. I didn't get the short story finished, but that means I will have it ready for next years contest, oh well. I haven't had a whole lot of time lately to do much reading, but I am going to start a new "need to read" today. It is Kim Harrison's White Witch, Black Curse. I love reading her books. She is a lot of fun and pulls you into a great fantasy world.

So, the first two lines of the book are:

The bloody handprint was gone, wiped from Kisten's window but not from my memory, and it ticked me off that someone had cleaned it, as if they were trying to steal what little recollection I retained about the night he'd died. the anger was misplaced fear if I was honest with myself.

I haven't written much this week either. But the last two lines I wrote are:

Mariska’s laughter died in her throat when she looked across the gym and saw Kellen staring at her, face intent and serious. She shivered when he strode toward her, stopping less than a foot away.

For more two line fun, head over to the Women of Mystery.

Three Word Wednesday

2009-02-25T09:22:00.003-06:00

Today's words posted over at 3WW were: Callous, Interfere, Persistant

We are persistent, continuing despite the problems facing us - incessant, unrelenting, determined and relentless. We won’t give up even though the world around us is callous. It is a hard hearted, cold, unfeeling place that we want to bring joy into. Even if you interfere, no matter how you meddle and hinder us, we will endure.

Obviously, I am feeling optomistic today, as shocking as that may be. I have to write my synopsis today... I'm a slacker and blew it off until three days before the entry has to be postmarked. Wish me luck, and check back later, I'm sure I'll need some good advice on it. I'll try to get it posted later this morning!

Ha! I love this!

2009-02-24T14:51:00.001-06:00

I found this at failblog. You should go and check them out!!!

see more pwn and owned pictures

Two Line Tuesday

2009-02-24T08:37:00.001-06:00

It’s time for fabulous Two Line Tuesday!

I am reading the third book in Christina Dodd’s Darkness series, Into the Shadow. I enjoy reading her books because her hero’s are very tortured and her heroines are incredibly strong women. Her books make me laugh and bring me to tears, often within the same paragraph.

I’ve only read a few pages of this book, actually I’m re-reading them (need to cut back on my book buying binges!), and at this point in the story we are being introduced to the heroine and her life. Karen Sonnet builds adventure hotels for her father. The hotels are located all over the world, where ever there is an attraction for the extreme sports/survivalist set to go. The setting is near the Nepal border in the Himalayas – a particularly nasty mountain named Mount Anaya.

Karen tried never to look at Mount Anaya, but as always the peak drew her gaze – up the side of the hill, up the sheer stone slopes, up the glaciers and snowfields, to the top of Mount Anaya. There the pinnacle stabbed the blue sky with a point of white and gray. Mountains, all mountains, formed the stuff of her nightmares, but Mount Anaya…In Sanskrit, it meant “evil course.”

As for what I’m writing right now, other than filling out endless paperwork for the state (keep repeating… it’s worth it, it’s worth it, it’s worth it), I am to the point that my hero and heroine are about to (ahem) hit it off. They are in a gym, working out, all hot and sweaty, and Kellen is watching Mariska learn self defense.

Mariska picked up the basic self defense moves quickly and was soon holding her own against the other woman, but he’d spotted a weakness in her technique after a few minutes. Every time her opponent came at her, Mariska would flinch away before answering the attack, costing her precious seconds.
So that’s it for this week. Hope you enjoyed it. For more Two Line Tuesday, head over to the Women of Mystery and the Education of a Pulp Writer.

Zombie Romance

2009-02-19T09:06:00.003-06:00

Over at Smart Bitches, Trashy Books, there is a little contest going on.

The rules are simple:

1. Use the random generator to create the title of your blockbuster screenplay.
2. In 25 words or less, pitch your screenplay.

Oh, you have 24 hours and it is really weird paranormal romance. I entered, yes I did. Here are the others I came up with that were too fun not to share.

Natural Born Charmer with Talking Cabbages

Samuel, the first male witch in millennia, can’t control his blooming powers. Can Andra save him from the talking cabbages he keeps zapping into existence?

Dreaming of you with Loquacious Sirens

Trey loves Lisa. The only problem - she never shuts up and lures unsuspecting sailors to their watery graves. Can he make it work?

Persuasion with Suspicious Carbuncles

Weird things happen when Sandra receives a mysterious ruby. Will Milo steal her heart or the gemstone before midnight strikes and its powers are unlocked?

Dream Man with Hormonal Pixies

Marcus is Lila’s fantasy man – but her fantasy never included cranky pixies or cantankerous elves. Can their love overcome the mythical madness and mayhem?

Here is the one I entered:

Something Wonderful with Massage Therapist Poltergeists

Willow, a werewolf, never gave love a thought until she sprained her back. Can she trust her heart and pained muscles to a dead man?

So, if you think you can do it head on over to Smart Bitches, Trashy Books and give it a shot. 25 words or less is harder than it sounds!!!

3WW and More

2009-02-18T08:47:00.002-06:00

Today's three words are Candid, Impulse and Risk. Here's a bit of flash fiction.

I knew the risk involved before I took the assignment. It was going to be difficult to find a way in – he had too much security surrounding him night and day.

The first time I opened the file my handler gave me, the impulse to tell him to find someone else was strong. It contained a brief bio on the target, height, weight, occupation, two professionally posed photos and three candid shots. Even with the bare facts given to me, I knew who he was.

Who in their right mind would try to remove this man? Everyone knew his name, his face, his voice.

I knew the risks. I took the assignment anyway. Two months of careful planning and here I am, behind this monstrosity they call a camera, waiting.

A director cues up the lights and music. The familiar theme rings in my ears. The first contestant enters from stage left. She performed her heart out only to be abused by the target. I must be crazy, but here goes nothing. Wish me luck.

I felt evil just writing it. For more three word fun, visit 3WW.

And Travis did something fun on his blog today so I stole the idea and am using it on mine. (I'm pretty sure he'll forgive me!)

The prompt was 3 lines beginning with the 3rd sentance of page 33.
So, here are 3 lines from Christina Dodd's Scent of Darkness.

Yet she could see nothing of the grain of the wood or its luster, and the massive brass lion's-head knocker was only a glint in the darkness. Finding the small button on the trim, she pressed it. The chimes rang inside. No one answered.

I know, I know, that's four, but I couldn't leave out the last part! For more three line insanity, head over to Travis' blog.

Two Line Tuesday

2009-02-17T08:11:00.002-06:00

It’s that time again. Two Sentence Tuesday!!

So, last time I was reading Christina Dodd’s Scent of Darkness. I put that down and read a few (okay three) other books, but now am back to reading it again. The last two sentences I read were:

He didn’t take over, but she saw his eyes, he wanted to. Oh, my God, he wanted to.

She’s having a good day. He’s having a good day. And here are the last two lines I wrote…fair warning, I’m writing erotica (but this is reasonably tame!):

His cock grew hard and felt like it was trying to punch its way out from behind his zipper. He looked down and tried to concentrate on anything other than the curve of her ass, the line of her legs and the dip of her back.

Hopefully they will both be having a good day VERY SOON! I’ve been so busy lately that I really haven’t had any time to write, but I hope things calm down in a short while.

Have a great day! And for more Tuesday fun head over to The Women of Mystery!

Bad Girl Monday

2009-02-16T09:16:00.001-06:00

Today’s Bad Girl Calendar Entry

Bad Girl Business Lingo 101

I’d like to build on your point… = I disagree, but you’re my boss.
We’re launching another major initiative = Your life will be a nightmare for the next six months.
I was out doing competitive research = I was shopping.
We need to think outside the box = We’re desperate.
Thanks, I’ll take that into consideration = Your ideas are stupid and you don’t matter.
We’ll do some qualitative research = I’ll ask my wife.
This is mission critical = Your ass is on the line.
Due diligence! = I have an MBA!
CC me on everything = I don’t trust you for a second.
We have a change in strategy = We have no idea what we’re doing.

So, that is today’s to do list – learn to translate the Buzzwords. We start our classes tomorrow night and I am still a little bit freaked out. The In-Laws and I got into it this weekend because I don’t want the entire family knowing what is going on right now, and they think I should take out a billboard evidently. I feel bad that I am this upset with them… I love them a tremendous amount, but they can’t see my point. One phone call is all it would take to ruin our chances. I’m not secure enough right now to allow that to happen. So, everyone can be mad at me as long as they keep their mouths shut.

I had a dream last night that left me in tears this morning… good tears, but still tears… I don’t know how to feel about it, but I am trying to work through that. Wish hubby and I luck with class tomorrow. I think he is almost as nervous as I am.

Love in All its Forms

2009-02-13T10:10:00.001-06:00

One of my favorite movie quotes is from the Lord of the Rings.

“I would rather spend one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone.”

When I look back at myself as a teenager, I realize I was in love with being in love. The newness of a relationship – the first kiss, the first touch, the first argument – all put together to form the fiery first blush of what I thought was love.

In college, I thought I fell in love. My best friend and I snuck down the halls and peeked in the classroom door to see the guy she had deemed perfect for me. She was wrong, but still we married. It was fiery in a totally different way. We fought, we screamed, we hurt each other. We did things that could never be taken back. I’m just as guilty as he was, just in a different way. It ended soon and badly.

Then, I introduced the same best friend to the guy I thought was perfect for her. He was for a while. Together they had two beautiful sons, who showed me a whole new dimension of love. The kind that wraps itself around your heart and holds on forever. Recently, my friend realized that after nearly a decade, she wasn’t IN love with her husband any more. It broke my heart, but I understood.

In 2001, while working nights in the Emergency Room, the two nurses I work with, decided I didn’t need to be alone. They thought I needed a man. Now, I have to describe these nurses to you for you to understand how laughable the situation really was. The first, we’ll call him Dave, was an ex-Army Ranger. A mountain of a man with thick black hair, graying at the temples, and a beard rivaling Paul Bunyan. He routinely scared patients, which is why he worked weekend nights with me, he could handle the bullshit and drunks. The other, I’ll change his name to Drew to protect his innocence, was over six and a half feet tall, had long hair, and was VERY into martial arts.

One night, I caught them online, switching screens whenever I walked into the room. I was curious, but not enough to take on the big guys. I waited until they were out of the room, each with patients, and took a quick peek at what they were so involved in on the computer. Imagine my shock when I found my picture, along with a description (which was very flattering and only about half true) on a personals site. I know I blushed four shades of red when I realized they had…enhanced my natural attributes.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. They had taken out a personal ad for me, and were screening prospective dates. There were hundreds of messages in the mail box, ranging from sarcastic to utterly humiliating. I waited until they were both in the room and tore into them.

A week later, when we were all on shift together again, they apologized, which amazed me, and told me they had found the “perfect” guy for me. I laughed and told them I thought they were full of it, no one could a.) find me the “perfect” guy, and b.) they dang sure couldn’t do it on the internet.

I had to eat those words just a few weeks later. They, posing as me, emailed back and forth with “perfect” guy, until they were satisfied he was good enough for me, then told me they had set up a date for me the next day. I called a good friend, a very tall, very male friend, and asked if he’d ever heard of “perfect” guy. Not only had he heard of him, he’d gone to school with his brother. “He’s a good guy. What can it hurt to go out with him? One time.”

Okay, I know when I am outnumbered, but I had rules. One: We were going to meet in a public place, with a lot of people. Two: I was bringing reinforcements in the form of my two brothers and the very tall very male friend. Three: I could leave at any time with out without notice.

So, I loaded up my two brothers, one of whom is a multiple black belt and was the youngest inductee into the Combat Karate Hall of Fame, my friend and we headed to the busiest place in Small Town, Texas on a Thursday night. The local pool hall.

There he was, sitting at the bar (that didn’t serve alcohol), drinking a coke, watching all the cowboys and college kids goofing around the pool tables. My friend pointed me in the right direction, snagged a couple pool cues and headed to a table with my brothers. They left me standing, alone, in the middle of an obnoxious crowd. I could run if I wanted too, and the urge was strong.

He spotted me, we talked, and talked, and talked, and made a date for the following night. A few weeks later, I broke the news to him that I wasn’t who’d set up the personal ad and that he’d been conversing with two big hairy men for a month. He was appropriately shocked, then the next night, he showed up at the ER with dinner for me and thanked the guys and shook their hands. He then threatened them if they ever did that to me again.

Six months later we were married, and hubby is the most amazing guy I have ever known. So, Dave and Drew were right. Hubby is the “perfect” guy for me. Next time I’m in Small Town, Texas, I’ll have to go by and tell them thanks one more time.

3WW

2009-02-11T16:44:00.001-06:00

Thoughts in disarray
Disorganized
Pushing down my throat
Gagging me on apprehension
Pulling my heart
Compelling me to look at innocence
Forcing their way through the rabble
Unruly
Offensive
No one to validate my fears
Afraid of falling
Trembling through my limbs
Assuming the care of another

For more of Three Word Wednesday check out 3WW

Two Line Tuesday

2009-02-10T08:43:00.003-06:00

The last two lines I read came from my “Bad Girls” desk calendar, and it was too funny not to share (there are three lines, sorry!)

Pretend to know – look it up in the dictionary later.

If it isn’t true love and it isn’t great sex, it isn’t worth your time.

Chain letters and emails are a complete waste of time, unless they affect luck, love life, or length of orgasm.

They made me laugh, and I really needed it today. The last two lines I wrote (yesterday in the car with my boss on our way to a meeting in Lubbock….)

Her skin prickled when she realized he wasn’t speaking any more. Mariska looked up and met Kellen’s eyes – his stare was too intent.

On a personal note: Two of the members of my critique group don’t think Kellen’s name is manly enough. They think I need a strong one syllable name… Jake, John, Bruce… I can’t stand any of those three. Any opinions?

Tonight is the first adoption meeting. I’m terrified. What if we aren’t good enough? What if our house isn’t nice enough? What if we don’t make enough money? What if? What if? What if? I have stressed myself out for a week about this. Hubby is cool and collected – ready to go. I’m a freaking mess, can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t think, can’t write. All I can do reasonably well right now is obsessively clean. And I live in a dog hair factory, so there is a lot to clean every day!

For more Two for Tuesdays head over to:
The Education of a Pulp Writer,
Women of Mystery,
A Day In The Life, Barbara Martin

Polished shoes

2009-02-05T11:07:00.001-06:00

I meet many people in my line of work, and yesterday I met a man that inspired me. His appearance struck me so much that I couldn’t stop making up stories about him in my head.

The man, I didn’t ask his name, was in his mid-50’s I would guess. Balding on top, his curly black hair reached his shoulders in the back. He wore a nice suit, but it was tailored to a man smaller than him. The front gaped between the buttons, and the pants were a full three inches too short. His shirt collar was ragged from being pressed too many times, and the shirt itself was a shade somewhere between pink and tan.

Socks showed plainly under the hem of his trousers, and they were mismatched. One was a navy blue, the other a pale gray.

His shoes caught my attention. The black loafers he wore were polished to a mirror shine. The soles were dark black, and not one scuff mark could be found on them.

I wondered where this man called home, if he had a home. I imagined him sitting in a smoke filled bar, because the scent of whiskey laced his breath. I speculated on a family long gone and a loneliness that haunted his soul.

When I got in bed last night, his image troubled me and I began to describe him to my drowsy husband. When I told him about the man’s shoes, he stopped me.

“He must have been military.” The words rumbled out in rough sleepiness.

Then, in my mind, I saw him. Polishing his boots, putting on a uniform and fighting for what he believed in. Seconds later, I saw him coming home to a wife and small children who couldn’t understand why daddy had nightmares. The wife couldn’t comprehend the horrors he refused to share with her. Then I saw her pack the kids in the car, look at him one last time and drive away to her mother’s.

The last image that raced through my mind was of his tears, his endless shoe polishing, and his retreat into a bottle.

All this from his shoes.

3WW

2009-02-04T10:23:00.002-06:00

I am going to try to do 3 Word Wednesday. This week's words are: crumple, illicit and nerve. Here goes nothing!

Sarah crumpled to the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks. Blue eyes, piercing as a laser watched her from across the room.

“You’ve done it this time.” Marcus paced from one end of the room to the other, his steps soundless on the plush carpet. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

“How? Who told you?” She scrubbed her hands across her face.

“Does it matter? I know about your affair. After the last time, I thought you would have learned your lesson, but I guess I was wrong.” Light sparkled off the glass he filled with bourbon. “I’m done. I’m taking the kids and filing for a divorce.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I can’t? Sarah, honey, save the drama for your career, not our living room.”

“I’ll be crucified in the press.”

“I know. I can already see the headlines. TV’s Top Mom Embroiled in Illicit Affair.” His chuckle was bitter.

“Don’t do this to me. I won’t allow you to take my children.” Sarah pushed herself off the floor and shoved a lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

“You have some nerve, lady. I’ve been the perfect celebrity husband for you for ten years. I stood behind you when you got in trouble with the IRS, I was there for you when you had to go into rehab for your little cocaine problem, hell, I even stayed after the first affair, but not any more. This is the last time I’ll play the forgiving husband role.”

The slamming door sounded like a gunshot in her ears. She watched as the bourbon left in his glass stilled before following him out the door.

Two Line Tuesday

2009-02-03T08:16:00.002-06:00

I am re-reading Christina Dodd's Scent of Darkness (she has great love scenes!). Here are the last two I read:

The Szarvases were artists of some note - Sharon painted amazing landscapes; River and their daughter, Meadow, fashioned beautiful, magnificent workds in glass - and every night the floors of their rambling old house and their barn studio were full of sleeping bags and cots as other artists, young and old, came to learn and to serve as apprentices at the feet of their masters. The master artists used all their money to pay for food, blankets, heat and teachers for their students.

And the last two I wrote are:

The slam of a car door echoed in the quiet tree lined darkness. When the engine roared to life, Mariska spun and flipped off the driver. The window whirred down quickly, “You bitch! You really are a piece of work.”

Weird Wednesday

2009-01-28T08:59:00.006-06:00

Today is critique day… I’m actually really excited this time. I’ve got about 22 pages ready. I’m so glad I put the other manuscript away and started work on this one. Maybe in six months I can go back and pick it up with fresh eyes and make it happen.

It has been an eventful week for me. I got a lot written, I did our taxes, wrote another article and read a little. Good news though, we are getting a decent refund on our taxes this year. Not as much as I had hoped, but it’s not a sharp stick in the eye.

Where do phrases like that come from? I’ve heard some weird ones lately…

Better than a sharp stick in the eye. - I guess that means it is a good thing, because I’d be all ready to kick some booty if someone put a sharp stick in my eye, well, after I got serious medical attention.

Useless as tits on a boar hog. (I really hate this one.) – Not good for anything, because the boar is the male of the species and we all know that the female feeds the young and is FAR superior than the male. Heh! That makes me giggle.

Lazy as a turd in a whale. – This must be extremely lazy, because the digestive tract in a whale is huge.

Lasts as long as a fart in a whirlwind. – Not long I’m assuming. Wind speed and all that.

These two came from Ande

Take a flying leap at a rolling donut. – Really? I don’t get it… Someone else will have to explain this one to me.

You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him turn on the faucet. – Nope, they don’t have thumbs…

These two came from Shannon

Your ass is grass and I’m the lawnmower. – This makes me think of M. Night Shamalan…

Is that clear as mud? – Umm… sure.

Slicker than bull snot. – Just gross.

Karin sent me these two:

Hotter than two rats having sex in a wool sock.

Nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

I think all of these are hilarious, but I would love to know who the first person to say them was. Can you imagine the looks he/she got?

Any others out there? I’d love to hear them!

2 Fer 2sday

2009-01-27T08:45:00.001-06:00

Today’s lines come from Ted Dekker’s Saint.

“Good. The winner will be freed and given a knife. The next one to succeed will be armed with a handgun and will hunt the winner until one of you is either killed or incapacitated. The third will be left in the crate an additional five minutes and then taken to the infirmary.”

Carl dropped the binoculars on the sandbag and picked up his rifle.

And my most recent lines are:

“Uh, sure. Every puzzle – every code – has a key, or system that it’s built on. Take the alphabet for example. If you assign each letter a number, A is one, B is two, C is three and so on, you have a very simple code.”

He still looked confused. “Really?”

“Yes. If we continued the sequence and replace the letters of your name with numbers, it would be 11-5-12-12-5-14.”

“If that’s all it is, then why does your software need so long to decode it?”

She smiled. “Like I said, that was a very simple code, and computers think in only two numbers, zero and one. The software’s trying billions of patterns filled with zeros and ones to find the one that fits and unlocks the encryption.”

“The key.” He smiled and it softened his intensity. “Okay, well let me know when you have something for me.”

“You got it.” She watched him leave, appreciating the view, and got back to work.

I know it is more than two lines, but I don’t know if this is how I want to end my chapter or not. The code she talks about HAS to be in there, it is important later, but something in here is really bothering me…

Any thoughts?

Adoption

2009-01-26T15:24:00.000-06:00

My heart is breaking. Hubby and I are about to start the long journey of adoption, and I was on the TARE website, and the sheer numbers of children up for adoption, just in Texas makes me want to cry.

It makes me thankful for the family I have and how amazing and supportive they are.

If you have children, please take a little extra time and hug them today. Let them know they are loved and appreciated.

And, please pray for us in our journey. We need all the strength and friendship we can get.

Fabulous Friday!

2009-01-23T08:39:00.004-06:00

I have AWESOME hair. I got it cut and colored last night. Way freaking expensive, but in the seven years me and hubby have been married, I’ve only done it one other time.

What does it look like, you ask. Well, think Alice from the Twilight movie. With kick bootie light red streaks. I love it and look totally different. It’s amazing what a good haircut can do for your self esteem.

Happy Friday all! Oh, and here are a couple more FAIL pics. Enjoy!

They did it!

2009-01-22T12:55:00.004-06:00

'Kay, so I said I needed cheering up and the girls at work did it with a series of pictures. Here is a sampling. HaHa!

And my personal favorite! (I'm wicked evil)

So annoyed

2009-01-22T08:50:00.001-06:00

Do you ever have one of those days where everything goes your way? You have a wonderful day, get lots accomplished, like, oh, say writing 18 pages of decent story, have an awesome critique group, They Like It They Like It, then you get home.

The dog peed in the floor while hubby sat with my laptop watching hockey fights. He’s obviously in a bad mood, not speaking, just kind of glowering in my direction. I clean up the mess, and thinking it would be easier to just leave him alone and let him get over whatever has his shorts in a twist, I sat down on the couch to read a few chapters…

Evidently that was a bad idea.

As we went to bed for the night, things only got worse. I don’t know what I said or what I did that made him SO angry, but last night was one of those really really long nights. No sleep for me.

He’s fine this morning, and it is my turn to be pissed. I’ve had no sleep, got my rear end chewed repeatedly last night, and I’m just in a foul mood.

I checked all the blogs I follow this morning and wouldn’t you know, not a single funny one posted yet. They all seem to be politically based this morning.

Somebody PLEASE post a funny today! I am in desperate need!

Weird Wednesday Dream

2009-01-21T08:16:00.001-06:00

The dream started out innocently enough, I was trying to bathe my cat. Never a good idea, I know, but he stunk. Things are rocking right along until I look around and realize the bathroom we’re in is bigger than my entire house and decorated in 1970’s old lady – all pastels and lamps with little hanging crystals.

The wall directly across from me started to rattle and I leaned back on my knees, not knowing what to expect. Even the cat rolled closer to the side of the lovely pink tub. Music sounded from the ceiling and the wall stopped shaking and slid sideways, creating a two foot doorway. A little small for a secret passage and damned inconvenient if someone is occupying the tub. But hey, who am I to criticize secret passages?

I tried to see into the darkness inside the opening, but I only got the impression of movement seconds before a wave of bugs crawled out. Now, I’m okay with big hairy spiders, snakes, lizards and general creepy stuff, but those damn little bugs freak me out. I screeched like a little girl and bounced around the room. The bathing cat was on his own. Ten or twelve bugs landed in the water with a plop. The cat batted them around while I worked up the courage to rescue him. When I leaned over a huge rolie polie swam toward the cat. The insect was at least two feet long and had a tail like a lobster. And, he was wearing black leather gloves. The music abruptly switched to a tango and the bug swooped in and forced the cat to dance with him.

Needless to say, the dream only got weirder from there. It included a shape shifter wearing fringed jeans, not the trendy, worn out frayed jeans, but dark blue denim with six inch long fringe from hip to calf, a drunken theater performer, and our new President Obama even made a cameo appearance. He was dancing around the bathroom singing, “Obama llama sees a bug in the rug. Obama llama sees a bug in the rug.” And then there was me with a badge and a gun. I arrested the lot of them.

Now you know how I start my day.

Terrific Tuesday

2009-01-20T11:57:00.000-06:00

Another author I really love is Beverly Barton. The last two lines I read are from her book Dying For You.

Holding the pistol in one hand, she flipped the switchblade in her other hand closed and dropped it back down inside her bra.

“Stay behind me and don’t do anything stupid,” he told her. She wanted to tell him that she had managed not to do anything stupid while she’d been held captive these past few days and she thought she could continue using her brains for at least a few more hours.

And the last two that I wrote are:

Mariska jumped when the lieutenant asked if there was any place else in the department she wanted to see. She blinked, Kellen turned away and the moment was lost.

Have a happy Tuesday!

Dreams

2009-01-16T11:08:00.001-06:00

I am one of the people who are blessed enough to remember their dreams after waking up. Usually that is a good thing for me, because that is when my characters come out to play… but sometimes it’s not so great.

Take last night, for example. I love to be scared, and it takes very little to scare me. I love horror movies, but then I can’t be in a room by myself for a week. I am addicted to a show called Supernatural. My youngest brother got me started watching it and I love it. Hubby likes it, but he isn’t a freak like me.

So, I was watching TV last night, because I was putting off doing housework and actually writing (I’m so bad) and Supernatural was on. Hubby was in another room, and the cat jumped in the middle of my lap. Let me tell you, I squealed like a little girl and ran to the other room. Poor hubby had to come out and sit with me while I watched the rest of the show.

Then, I go to bed and have all these funky dreams about the show and the video I posted yesterday. The freaky girl in the video chased me around with a knife all night long. I woke up more tired than when I went to bed. I probably doesn’t help that right now I am writing about a serial killer who’s weapon of choice is a knife…

I wonder sometimes what ‘normal’ people would think if they got a peek inside my brain.

Happy Freaking Thursday!

2009-01-15T09:26:00.001-06:00

So, today I feel like I am the only one in the blogosphere that isn’t down and depressed and maudlin. I want to liven everyone up. I’m a people pleaser. I want everyone around me to be happy and laughing. I had a great critique group last night. We laughed and they actually liked the beginning stages of my new book. I may not have any “followers” here YET. But, I am thinking about breaking out the homemade chocolate chip cookie bribes… If you know me, you know I’m not kidding. And if the chocolate chip cookies don’t work, there is the special recipe banana pudding… or the infamous “Better Than Sex” cake. But, until I get to bake, here is a freaky weird video that a friend sent me. I don’t know whether to be frightened or laugh! Hope everyone has a better day!

Wednesday Wonder

2009-01-14T15:48:00.000-06:00

It is an amazing thing to have friends. Sometimes I forget the value of just having someone to say hi to, someone who understands my frustrations and fears, someone who doesn’t care what you can do for them.

So, to everyone that is my friend – thank you.

2 Fer 2's Day

2009-01-13T08:42:00.001-06:00

It’s Tuesday! Time to celebrate another two lines… Okay, so maybe not celebrate, but share.

Tomorrow is critique night and I have NOTHING. I’m outlining a new story right now, but it is rough. So, here is the last entry on my outline:

Mariska is at home working on Allison’s website when her phone rings. The caller ID shows Taylor’s number, so she lets it go to voicemail. He calls twice more, but she ignores him. Finally when Aunt Vivian calls she answers. Vivian tells her that Sean is dead.

This is around the end of chapter three and page twenty-two on my outline. Like I said yesterday, ideas are coming out of my ears.

Now, this bright shiny morning I started reading Scream For Me by Karen Rose. I love her writing and when I grow up I want to be just like her! The last passage I read was:

He’d chosen her with care. Taken her with relish. Made her scream, long and loud.

See, I want to be in her head for just a few minutes.

Hope you all have a great day, and if you haven’t dropped by yet, you should go to habitatfortravis.blogspot.com. He and his family would really appreciate it!

Friends, New and Old

2009-01-12T16:26:00.001-06:00

I put it away. The Manuscript. The one I have been working on for forever. I’ve tried so many different approaches to it that it was driving me crazy. I was dreaming about never ever finishing it. I finally got so frustrated; I knew that it needed to be put away for a while. The characters are almost family now. And we all know how it is with family. You can only spend so much time with them day after day after day before you are ready to scream at them to leave you alone.

So, with that said, I started a new story. The characters in this one have been running around my subconscious for some time now, and I decided that maybe I just needed to let them out to play. They needed some human interaction.

Once I let them out, there is no slowing them down. I started outlining this weekend and after two and a half chapters I had a twenty-two page outline. I love this. I can’t wait to get home now so that I can visit with them some more. It is like meeting new people that can’t get enough of your attention, AND they think you are amazing.

It’s great for the ego, too. Ideas and thoughts and plot lines are just falling out of my ears, I swear. I haven’t felt like this in a long time. I don’t know if I just struggled too long over the other one and got myself all twisted up in knots or what, but once I knew I wasn’t going to mess with it for a while, everything started to click.

I love to write. I have since I was a little girl. I wrote my first article in second grade. I wrote my first story in third grade. I finished my first full manuscript in Junior High (it is amazingly awful, but I still have it tucked away in a file.) I wrote poetry non-stop in high school, but once I got into college I got so busy with all of my classes that I stopped writing. I got married really young, and got divorced really young. I was stupid, but it was a growing experience.

I got married again a couple of years later, and that was one of the best decisions I have ever made. We lived paycheck to paycheck for a long time. He found his job, I found my wonderful job, and we bought a house. Got some pets. And I started writing again.

I have made some of the best friends through writing. Friends that I would do just about anything for. I’ve had extreme joy and deep sadness in the process, but I don’t think I would trade it for anything in the world. I am a totally different person now, a better person I hope, for the experience.

On a serious note, I went and visited Travis and his family on Thursday. I was torn about going to see them. I didn’t want to interrupt and bother them in their time of grief, but I wanted to offer our support and let them know they have friends out there that care.

It broke my heart to sit and talk to them and see their beautiful boys playing with toys they had just gone and bought. I kept thinking about all their toys and books and the things they love are all gone, but they were safe. All of them. What got to me the most, and what brought tears to my eyes was that even though they are literally going through Hell right now, Travis looked me in the eye and told me that after things settled down some he was going to keep his promise to me.

Just before Thanksgiving, I talked to Travis about giving my manuscript a read through and letting me know what he thought about it. He was planning on doing a My Town Monday post on the museum I work at, and we decided he would pick it up when he came to do that.

I was amazed. He has one of the most generous spirits of anyone I know. His family has lost almost everything, and yet he was worried that I might have thought he wasn’t going to read my manuscript… All I can say is wow. I hope that if I am ever in that position I can be as generous. I don’t know that I would be able to think about anyone else’s problems at that point, actually. I would be incredibly greedy and selfish I think.

So, Travis, if you read this, know that you are freaking amazing and I appreciate you more than you know. Hubby and I are praying for you and yours.

Travis Erwin

2009-01-07T12:19:00.003-06:00

An amazing author, Travis Erwin, was struck by tragedy this weekend. His home burned to the ground.

Travis is an amazing person who is ready to help anyone at any time. If you can find it in your heart to help him, a fund has been set up.

Please visit http://habitatfortravis.blogspot.com/

Every little bit helps!

Myspace…The Great Confessor

2008-12-11T10:37:00.001-06:00

Why do people think that posting everything about their lives on Myspace is a good idea? Who actually thinks, “Hmmm, my wife is going to leave me and I told her I would kill myself if she did, what can I do? Oh, I know. I’ll post a blog about how horrible our life is on Myspace and get pity from all of my friends and family!” WTF?!?

No, this wasn’t me, or my husband or anyone in my family (THANK GOD!), but it is a very dear friend of mine.

I went to Critique Group last night… had a fairly good time (even though I didn’t get a darn thing written this week… okay, I did, but I started all over AGAIN), come home, and hubby looks like…well, almost guilty. I figured he’d been out Christmas shopping and found something he couldn’t live without and bought it. Wondering what the damage to the bank account was, I innocently ask, “What’s up? You look like you need to tell me something.”

Sometimes you have to approach men like scared children. I smiled my still only half a smile, and patted his arm reassuringly. He told me he’d been messing with his Myspace page and saw that a friend of ours had changed his status and sounded really depressed. So, he went to said friends page and saw that there was a new blog posted and the title sounded depressing. And, since Myspace is the universal ‘let’s snoop into people’s lives’ place, he read the blog. It worried him a lot. So, he told me to go and read the blog and then call my friend – the blogger’s wife.

I took my big bowl of ice cream with me, knowing I was going to need it (not being much of a drinker), and sat down at the computer. I loaded the offending page and began to read, and read, and read. I was shocked at what had been left there for all the world to see. The things he just so casually mentioned that NO ONE else has the right to know, that NO ONE needs to ever see.

I was furious.

Then, the reply to the post. It had been left by my friend’s sister. It was all I could do not to pick up the phone, call her and tell her that she was my hero. She blasted him, in a nice way, but still really put him in his place. I was in tears by the time I finished reading it. Her response made me wish I had a sister, but I know my brothers would be just as ‘to the point.’

So, I did what any self respecting friend would do. I put on my heavy coat (it was freaking cold outside last night), grabbed my cell phone and my cigarettes (yes, I know they are bad for me, but so is stress and chocolate), and called the brat that hadn’t called me to let me know what was going on.

She answered in tears because she knew it was me and instantly all the anger was gone. I understood why she hadn’t let me help, it is hard to admit defeat, I know that. So, while she sat in her car in the Wal Mart parking lot and chain smoked, and I sat on my broke ass chair on the front porch and smoked with her, we talked for almost two hours. We laughed, we cried and we made a lunch date.

I haven’t been to the town she lives in, in years. To be totally honest, I don’t know if I even remember how to get there from where I live, but I have access to a GPS and I know how to use it dang it. So, Saturday morning, I’m going to drive an hour to a town that holds a LOT of bad memories for me, hold my precious friends hand, buy her lunch, hell I may take her to get a pedicure, too. Sometimes, you just need a girly day with a friend. I’m not worried about her, though. She is an amazingly strong woman who has two beautiful sons. I miss her joy though. When we were growing up together, she was such a happy person. Always had a smile on her face. I haven’t seen her smile in a very long time, that bothers me.

So, I will make the trip, buy the lunch, spring for the pedicure (or whatever we decide to do), and try to make her smile, at least for a little while. Because as stressful as my life is sometimes, I want to bring joy and happiness to people. That’s what makes me happy. And as bad as I feel about things and how life poop’s on me, I know I am incredibly lucky. I have a home, a car, a job, a little money in the bank, a family that loves me whether I write porn or not, and the biggest blessing of all is my awesome husband, who understands why I have to make the trip this weekend alone. And even though he will worry about me, he knows that she needs me and I need to help her.

How amazing is he? I don’t know if I’ve ever known the kind of love he gives me each second of every minute of every single day. He is my rock, my heart and everything I could ask for.

Okay, sorry, I got a little sappy there, but seeing what is happening with my friend makes me all that more grateful for what I have.

P.S. – I was feeling all lovey dovey just now and about to tell my husband what an amazing man he is… Then he sent me a link to a “Deluxe Star Wars Jedi Robe”. Now, I’m suddenly thinking about the fact that sometimes you have to think of husbands as naughty children. I love that man, I love that man!

Two Line Tuesday

2008-12-09T11:56:00.000-06:00

I almost forgot again!

Anyways, last two I read were from Katie MacAlister’s Zen and the Art of Vampires and is actually the first two lines of the book:

“Experience the romance of Iceland under the starry summer night sky with a descendant of the Vikings of yore; that’s what the brochure said.”
Eyes a startling shade of unadulterated grey considered me seriously.

I love Katie Mac. If you like quirky funny women with weird ass lives… she’s your girl.

Okay. My last two:

“Get your ass up off that couch, change clothes and let’s go.”
Cheyenne Hamilton glared up at her two best friends. “I said I don’t want to go out tonight. Project Runway’s on.”
Oddly enough, those are the new first lines of mine.

My face is getting better, I can ALMOST smile again, and most people can even understand what I am saying. It hurts though. My cheek feels like I went a few rounds with Gina Carano, but hopefully that will go away soon.

And if you follow Redneck Mommy’s blog… Woo Hoo!!

I'm Twisted

2008-12-05T12:01:00.001-06:00

Am I sick and demented? I know Karin calls me a morbid perv, but I think I may be demented too.

I am so excited because this weekend... I'm cleaning house. I have a whole weekend where I don't have to go anywhere or do anything and I am going to clean my dirty house.

Lovingly sweep and mop all the floors, scrub the tile, vacuum, do laundry, re-arrange the furniture (probably move the Christmas tree).
And hopefully wash both of the dogs... and I will think about the cat, but I'm not brave enough to EVER wash that monster again. I take him to the groomers and they call me and tell me to come and get him every time. He He.

I think in one of his past lives he had an unfortunate run in with a blow dryer because they have to put him in a cage dryer and he hisses and howls and screams until they finally give up.

He's so funny. He will come and sit on the side of the tub while I shower, stick his head in and look at me like, "Um, hey, mom... did you realize there is like water falling ALL over you?" Then he gets this disgusted look and moves to the sink so I don't accidentally on purpose splash him. But as soon as I pull out the trusty old hair dryer he's gone. Like I can't find him again until it is safely back in the closet.

My black lab, he just wants to get in the shower with me. He's a water dog. A big dumb water dog. And with the whole double coat thing, I can't really blow dry him (plus, have you ever tried to blow dry a 100 pound dog? I mean, seriously!). He'd probably sit there and let me do it, but I don't have four hours to try.

Then there is the baby. Bear is our 5 month old Shih Tzu. He is a mess. I don't have the slightest idea what I was thinking when I decided I wanted a long haired little lap dog. I have to brush his fluffy butt all the time. He needs bathed twice a day, I swear, not happening. And he is a litter box muncher. I can't keep him out of it.
If I move the litter box, the cat can't find it... he's getting up there in years, it is sad. We've yelled, we've put things in the way, we've tried everything. He loves him some cat poop. Just ewww.

Wow, that was a long ramble on the pets. But now back to the original thought I was having (some days it is incredibly hard to keep up). I get to clean house and that is making me VERY happy. Our extended house guest is moving the last of his stuff out this weekend, so I can clean out our guest bedroom and hopefully we can take some of the Christmas decoration boxes back to storage and I can get the office back in shape.
See, this just makes my day. I am sick.

Oh! Oh! Maybe I can even get the dishes done!

I've got the Blues

2008-12-04T09:30:00.000-06:00

I don’t know if it is the medicine I’m on, all the stress I’m under, or just my own horrible self esteem, but the last few days have been terrible.

I never really realized how much I did smile before I lost it. It actually makes my heart hurt that I can’t smile at my best friend when she is trying to cheer me up, or my amazing husband who tells me I’m beautiful even though right now I feel like a monster.

People have been making fun. That is hard for me. I try to ignore it and laugh along, but it is so hard. People I care about and/or respect telling me I need a Phantom of the Opera mask makes me want to go home, crawl in bed and never come out. I know in my head that I need to be stronger than that, but I can’t get the rest of me to agree.

I was kind of excited because I lost 12 pounds the first weekend. Couldn’t keep food in my mouth, so there wasn’t much eating happening. The doctor put me on high dose steroids, so I have gained it all back and then some. That helps me in no way at all.

I got my new car finally. That should have relieved some of the stress. Should have. It is newer, WAY less miles and the payments are about $50 less a month. So, why don’t I feel better? I love it, but it isn’t my Charger. It doesn’t growl when I start it, it doesn’t have custom rims, blacked out windows or ride like a sports car. Oh, well. Instead of the pimp wagon, I now have a tank. Hubby swears when the next 13 year old runs a stop light that I will win, not the Ford Explorer they are driving.

Don’t get me wrong. I got a Dodge Nitro and it is way cool. It has everything I could ask for and then some.

Last night was probably the worst. I’d had a long day, not a particularly bad one, except that I was feeling really bad about everything. Then I went to critique. Not a great idea when you are that depressed. Everything any of them said felt like a personal attack, even though I knew it wasn’t. I got home, Karin left, and my poor hubby got to hear me vent, after I told him I was “fine” about 5,000 times.

He finally grabbed me up in a big hug, gave me a sweet kiss on the forehead and made me look at him. Really look at him. Not duck my head to keep him from seeing me, not look away so that side of me is hidden. No, he made me face him and look him in the eyes. He told me I wasn’t fine, and he knew it. He told me that even if the paralysis never goes away he will love me. And he told me that no matter what I look like, no matter what I weigh, he still thinks I am beautiful inside and out.

This is the man that knows my heart. He knows how to fix what’s wrong with me with almost no words. I’m scared to death to see Karin’s baby. What if my “smile” scares him? Hubby said the baby will smile and laugh and let me hold him any way. Because that’s how babies are. They don’t care how you look. They love you no matter.

Then, he kissed me on my horribly useless mouth, held me close and whispered those little nonsense words into my hair and just let me cry. He just let me cry. No one in my life has ever just let me cry. For as long as I can remember I have had to be the strong one. Hold it together while everything and everyone else falls apart.

He let me fall apart. I thank God that he let me, even though I was horribly embarrassed afterwards. When my doubts are at their worst and I don’t know why he is with me, he just holds me and calms me down. He loves me and that is the biggest miracle I could ever be witness to.

Critique Group

2008-12-03T08:11:00.000-06:00

My critique group meets tonight. I’m a little worried about it though. Karin has found this amazing group to work with, but I was uncomfortable with them (okay, not exactly them, but the children that were there.) They seem to be helping her out so much though, and my group is sketchy at best.

Karin decided to go with me two weeks ago (one week after I had totaled my new car). I hadn’t gone the week before because I was a little busy heeling up, but when we got to the meeting place, the doors were locked and the lights were off. I called the “leader” of our little group and she told me that they thought I had quit since I wasn’t there the week before. I explained to her what happened and she told me I could come back again tonight.

Now, to me, I was hoping for something more along the lines of, “We’re glad you didn’t quit! You have some good insight and we want you to participate.” But no, I was given permission to attend again… if I brought Karin… hmmm. What does that say about my writing? Doesn’t make me feel worth a damn.

Oh, well, I’m off to internet land to search for any contests going on right now. Oh, and I guess I should get back to work.

Two Line Tuesday sort of...

2008-12-02T10:19:00.001-06:00

Two line Tuesday

It has been a rough month and I haven’t read a lot, or written much for that matter, but I did make it through the book Marley and Me last night. I’m not a big fan of animal books/movies, because they ALWAYS make me cry and this one was no different.

If you haven’t read the book, I’d suggest it, especially if you are a lover of big goofy dogs. I grew up with big dogs - collies, labs, retrievers – and now my husband and I have one of our own. P.T. is our 100 pound black lab mix. He is a holy terror, shoe eating, trash sniffing, jumping, slobbering mess, but with him around I never have to worry about being in the house alone, because he is MY dog. I know it, he knows it, and anyone who comes around knows it.

So, the last two lines I read are actually from the author’s note at the end of John Grogan’s book Marley and Me:

Dogs are great. Bad dogs, if we can really call them that, are perhaps the greatest of them all.

This book touched my heart and made me cry and hug my big goofy mutt. When the day comes that I lose him, I just don’t know what I will do.

On to the last two lines I wrote…

“I woke up when you were standing over me in the bedroom.” Nathan’s brow went up in a question. “Did you see all you wanted?”
A blush so hot it made her dizzy flooded her face. “I thought you were sleeping!”
“And that makes it okay?” She could tell he was fighting it, but the beginning of a smile curved his mouth.
“Well…yeah!”
It’s a little more than two lines, but I like it.

Personal update:
My face is still screwed up, the right half won’t move, I still feel like a monster, but I think the sinus infection is starting to clear up. I have my last Citizen Police Academy meeting tonight. We are going out for dinner for graduation. I’m a little sad about that. Sure, it was dangerous for everyone in my family for me to go, but it was a lot of fun and I learned some amazing things.
I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving!

Can I have a new November...Please

2008-12-01T09:16:00.002-06:00

November has come to a close finally and I couldn't be happier about that. Besides the wreck and dealing with all the stress related to that, let's heap on a helping of joyous holiday love.

My brother-in-law and his wife broke my mother-in-law's heart and went to a friend of theirs for Thanksgiving because driving two hours was too much. Drama Drama Drama.

Then Friday dawned. My 100 pound black lab decided 6:30 in the morning is a wonderful time to go outside. He evidently had to pee right then. I took him outside and noticed my face felt tingly. I chalked it up to still being mostly asleep. Figuring I would go ahead and just start my day I jumped in the shower and got about a half gallon of shampoo in my right eye. I get out of the shower and am brushing my teeth when I realize I can't keep water in my mouth to rinse out the toothpaste. The entire right side of my face is drooping and I can't move it. So, I did what any self respecting Emergency Medical Technician would do... I cried. I prayed, I begged. Nothing worked. It had been two weeks since the wreck and I knew I could have had a clot break lose and there was a possiblity that I was having a stroke. Scary thought at 30, isn't it?

I had to go and wake up my poor hubby. I had to make him understand that he had to be strong and keep it together because I damn sure couldn't. We made it to the emergency room in record time, and I was seen in under an hour (that never happens!).

It wasn't a stroke. It is Bell's Palsy. Bell's palsy is a facial paralysis caused by an irritation of cranial nerve VII (seven) with no apparent cause. This excludes facial paralysis associated with known causes such as infection or stroke. Cranial nerve VII controls most facial muscles, including those needed to smile, blink, and wrinkle the forehead. The nerve also controls the function of certain salivary glands and the lacrimal (tear) glands as well as the tiny muscles inside the ear that dampen loud noises.

Doesn't that sound fun? Now, I'm a girl, and I have little or no self confidence as it is. I feel like a monster. I can't smile, can't blink, can't talk, can't eat. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.

Moment of Silence Please

2008-11-12T09:19:00.001-06:00

My gorgeous beautiful Charger is no more. I had my dream car for two weeks and two days. I think we should declare a day of mourning for my loss.

I was headed to my class at the police station last night, when a 13 year old girl blasted through her red light. She is fine.

It was my first trip in an ambulance as a patient, seriously different from being the EMT on the run. I spent six hours in the emergency room. Missed my freaking class… it was simulation night too, damn it.

I made the morning news paper, and scared my family to death.

Let me tell you people, seat belt bruises hurt like the devil, but it did what it was supposed to and kept me in the car and off the pavement.

I don’t know what is going to happen with insurance, I haven’t even made a payment on the car yet. 22 inch custom rims, super dark tint… we called it the pimp wagon.

So, please, in honor of the beloved Pimp Wagon, let’s all have a moment of silence.

Orange Juice and Cough Syrup

2008-11-07T08:46:00.001-06:00

The creepy crawly crud caught up with me. I’d been doing so good, laughing at all of my sick co-workers, using Clorox wipes on everything they even looked at, staying away from my hubby when he brought home the menacing scourge from the teenagers he teaches. Sadly, I wasn’t fast enough, or maybe I was too cocky. I truly thought I had escaped it this year.

I think that while I was out of the office on Friday, they came in and coughed and/or sneezed on my desk, computer, phone and paperwork. The people I work with are really vicious; shower planning, kid having, wedding surviving, and disease spreading monsters…. Or maybe I just haven’t been taking care of myself lately. I guess you never really know.

For the last week now, I have been living off of orange juice and cough syrup. I’ve had some of the most vivid dreams of my life lately, some incredibly scary and some that make me wonder if I need therapy. I slept one night in the chair, thinking that all of the viscous fluids in my body would not pool in my chest that way. Turns out, I really can’t sleep sitting up. I coughed, sneezed and cursed my way through the endless night time hours, until I gave up and got in bed. Hubby promptly crawled out the other side of the bed and went to sleep in the recliner. Do you think he is avoiding me?

I called in to work on Tuesday, and tried to come in on Wednesday. My boss decided I have Parvo (I tried to explain Parvo is like really bad doggy flu, he still swears I have Parvo…whatever), and he told me to go home. I was there long enough to change out one exhibit. (And it is a fine looking exhibit if I do say so myself… I’m slowly learning the process of exhibit design; I’m more of a research person.)

So, I was back at work yesterday… hating life, taking as much medicine as possible and sucking on cough drops. Had to go and talk to some museum type people at one point, so I made a quick detour into the girls’ room (check the hair, make sure nothing is stuck in my teeth from lunch) and I realized I had BLUE teeth. What the hell? I stuck out my tongue and it was a lovely shade of cerulean. Nice. One of the ladies I work with looked at my mouth and said, “Honey, that might just be infected.”

The longest day in history finally ended and I made it home. Hubby was in the front yard playing with our adorable puppy, Bear, and looking all smug and healthy. I coughed for ten minutes before dragging myself out of my (OMG Freaking Amazingly Gorgeous) new car and across the lawn. He gave me a one armed hug with his head cranked as far away from me as possible and gently shoved me out of his airspace. I stuck my tongue out and him and do you know what the pain in the rear said to me? Are you ready for this?

“Sweetheart, did you give Papa Smurf a blowjob today?”

Its Been Three Weeks

2008-10-17T08:32:00.003-05:00

Three whole weeks since I blogged. Sorry. It's been a tough few weeks too.

I went to read for a new critique group on Monday the 6th. Great people, all of them. Karin keeps me motivated and Travis keeps reminding me that yes, it's hard, but worth it. So, anyway, to be polite I left my cell phone in Karin's car so that I didn't get a phone call and interrupt the group. My hubby knew I was with Karin, but since I didn't know where we were going, I didn't tell him.

About 8:30 the group broke up and Karin and I headed out. I pulled my handy-dandy cell phone out of my purse and saw that I had 29 missed calls. Surely, something had to be wrong with my phone. Maybe it was registering all the missed calls I'd had for, oh, the last year. The evil thing rang almost immediately. Karin and I were laughing and joking when I answered. It was my mother. Screaming at me.

She was in South Carolina, taking care of my grandfather who was very ill. My dad had been in a serious accident on his way home from work (at around 6:30). The 29 missed calls were from all of our family and friends who couldn't find me to rush to the hospital to take care of my dad. My mom was in another state, both of my brothers were hours away. Thank God, one of my parents' friends went to my house, got my hubby and took him to the hospital to stay with dad.

Needless to say, even though I am a trained Emergency Medical Technician, I FREAKED OUT. This is my dad we're talking about people! So, rushed to the Emergency Room, took care of my dad - waking him every hour, keeping up with his pain pills, etc., until mom could fly back in from South Carolina. That was last Monday.

On Wednesday, I found out that my brother-in-law and his wife are pregnant. Now, for a rational adult that would be wonderful news. For me, not so much. If you know me, you know I can't procreate. Hubby and I are looking into the foster/adopt program, but it all takes time. Lots of really crappy emotions are involved in all that, and I get really down when I think about it. So, not a good day there, either. (Why is everyone pregnant right now, by the way? I swear it must be in the water.)

Then, Fateful Friday. It had been a really long week with little or no sleep on most nights. My mom called and noon. My grandfather had passed away. Now, I'd held it together the whole week. Didn't cry, didn't blow up at anyone. If I was pissed or scared or depressed, I just bluffed my way through it. She called me at work and I couldn't shut the flood gates. I quietly snuck past my co-workers to the bathroom and tried to calm down and pull myself together. That didn't work, so I went outside and smoked (I know, I know, I'm really trying to quit, but sometimes... ya know.), that didn't work. I was headed back to my office (okay, so it is a cubicle) and my boss stopped me and asked if I was all right. I lost it. I started crying and couldn't stop. He just looked at me and said, "Just go home. We'll deal with it Monday." So, I did.

This week I have been trying to recover, and so far, so good. The fun news is that I have to go and get drunk at the police station tonight, then tomorrow morning they are giving me a gun with live ammo to shoot... You'd think they were smarter than that, LOL!

I hope you all have a great weekend and I will try to get better at this whole blogging thing! Lots of love!

It's Tuesday

2008-09-23T12:10:00.002-05:00

Amazingly, I remembered it is Tuesday. So, here are two lines from the book I am reading right now, Touch of Darkness by Christina Dodd:

Guilt hung on him like mourning clothes. Regret choked him like a noose.

And the last two lines I wrote:

"Son of a bitch has a rabbit hole."
"So... how are you going to smoke him out?"

I'm having some commitment issues (read: fear) of finishing this book. It has taken on a life of its own and really doesn't want to go where I want it to go. So, looks like I will be barricading myself in a small room and finishing the freaking thing this weekend. If not, I may have to put it in a box, shove it under the bed and forget about it for the next six months and start a new project. It is really making me insane right now! Any words of wisdom would be greatly appreciated!

Citizen's Police Academy

2008-09-17T10:17:00.002-05:00

Two posts in one day? Will wonders never cease!

I have to tell everyone about this AWESOME class that I am taking. It is the Amarillo Citizens Police Academy. Last night was the first class and I was so pumped after I got home that I couldn't go to sleep for hours.

I called the police department a few weeks ago asking to see if Amarillo offers a ride along program. They do and they don't. You can't go on a ride along unless you are A.) a recruit, B.) taking criminal justice classes, or C.) are taking or have taken the Citizen's Police Academy. So where do I sign, right?

I had to apply for the program and was notified that I had been accepted. The knowledge I am going to get from this class is going to fuel my writing for quite a while, I can tell. Now for the really cool part... ready?

We get to tour all of the restricted places - jail, 911 call center, bomb squad. We get demonstrations by the K-9 division and the dive team. We will do fingerprinting and evidence gathering with CSI. We get to catch speeders with radar guns, hang out with Narcotics and SWAT, the gang unit and special crimes. We get to go shoot guns with them, get tazed (or not) and we get to do something called simmunitions. We go into "scenes" geared up and have to handle it like we would if we were an officer and we will be "armed". Wax bullets... hostage negotiations...two minutes of terror...and a full 5 second ride with the tazer.

I'm going to have so much to write about. I giggle with glee... he he! My only nervousness comes from the decision to be tazed or not. I'm not a wus, but a full five seconds of 40,000 volts makes me want to pee my pants. I haven't decided yet if I am that brave!

I'm an idoit

2008-09-17T08:08:00.002-05:00

Over the last few days I have come to the realization that I am an idiot. See, there was this party... you know it can't be good when it starts out like that. At this party there was a lot of food, a lot of people - some I knew and some I didn't - and a lot of alcohol.

Things would have been okay if I had just left when I originally wanted to, but I listened to friends - "Just one more hour, Crystal. Just one more shot, Crystal." That was my first mistake. The second mistake was that instead of just one more hour and one more shot, I stayed for four more hours and 16 shots.

I could laugh and say that was when I got stupid, but that wasn't when I got stupid. I got stupid when I decided to stay. I got stupid when I took that next shot. See, I'm not a big drinker. I may have ONE drink or A beer if my hubby and I go out to eat or to a bar, but that is it. The last time I got trashed was last Halloween (at a party with most of the same people). I was incredibly ashamed of myself that time because I HATE not being in total control of myself. Too many years of being not in control and being controlled. So, I swore I wouldn't do it again.

What did I do? I did it again. This time though, I embarrassed myself. I freaking cried at one point and I am so not that girl. You know which girl I am talking about - the one that by 11:00 is sitting in the middle of the floor bawling her eyes out because some guy wouldn't dance with her, mascara running down her face and a beer in both hands. I hate that girl, but I sat and had a serious conversation with two wonderful friends while we were all pretty much plowed and I ended up sitting in the middle of the floor, bawling with a beer in my hand.

I can get past that. Seriously. The part I can't get past is that I told my friends things that I don't tell anyone. Things I don't necessarily want people to know, and I know they will now. I can't get past that. Somehow, I managed to keep all my clothes on when others didn't. I managed get away from the really scary guy that grabbed my boob and tried to slip me the tongue. But I also managed to tell people things that give them the power to hurt me.

I cried most of the rest of the weekend...it's hard to take when you realize you have made a complete fool out of yourself. I embarrassed myself in front of two of my wonderful friends and I can't bring myself to call them or email them. This sucks!

Don't get me wrong, hubby was there with me the whole time. He didn't have just a great time. He doesn't really drink either, so a drunk party isn't usually either or our things. He swears I didn't get too stupid (I remember everything, so I know I got pretty stupid), and that I didn't do anything I need to regret, but I do. I regret talking about things that are extremely important, things no one needs to know about and things that give people the power to hurt me.

Officially, I'm over the whole drinking thing. I doubt this will be a problem again, because I won't let it. If that means I just can't go to the parties anymore, then that is what I have to do. Life is too important to waste it feeling stupid and out of control.

Two Line Tuesday

2008-08-06T15:04:00.003-05:00

I am stealing this from Travis, but it seems like such a good thing to do. So, here we go.

The two lines I recently read are from Carly Phillips Hot Property:

Ben hated sleeping on a friend's couch. He hated feeling like a loser who couldn't hold a job or make a go at any career he started.

The last two lines I wrote are an addition to page 2 of my manuscript Broken Rules:

"Go change your clothes, you nasty little bastard." His breath reaked of cigarettes, garlic and vodka.

Happy Tuesday everybody!

I'm writing again!

2008-07-23T08:13:00.005-05:00

Karin sent me this a long time ago and it is one of the best writing quotes I think I have ever come across. It is usually the background on my computer either at work or at home.

It has been weeks...okay probably months since the last time I wrote something new. Last night I wrote four complete new chapters. It was great. I even talked hubby into reading the two newest ones and he liked them. Please excuse me for a moment while I go in the corner and do my happy dance .

I not only have an amazing critique partner, but now I have a fantastic reader. She owns a book store, so you know she is a rabid reader. She's caught things that Karin and I haven't in the million and one times that we've read it. Things I never would have thought about.

Only a few thousand more words to get out and the book will be done. The thing is, though, I've already started on another one. I know that is a dumb idea, but the characters wouldn't leave me alone until I atleast plotted out their story. So the outline is done and the first couple chapters are written.

The Dark Knight

2008-07-20T17:56:00.002-05:00

I saw the new Batman movie today. I'm sad to say that I wasn't impressed. EVERYONE I know loves the movie and a lot have seen it multiple times. Maybe my expectations were too high, I don't know, but I was bored. Within 15 minutes of the start of the movie, I was ready to go. Seriously, I freaking fell asleep!
To all of the Batman fans out there, I hope you enjoyed it. Hubby loved it. Friends all loved it. Me, maybe I'm just a freak, but I was bored. Not a movie I am going to rush out and buy when it comes out. (Who am I kidding, Hubby will have to have it, so I will probably have to rush out and buy it the day it comes out and then hide it until his birthday or Christmas or something.)
Hope everyone had a great weekend! Talk to you soon!

Teenage Angst

2008-07-15T12:53:00.001-05:00

I was digging through all my old writing and found my secret cache of poetry. I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe. Why is it, when we are somewhere between 13 and 17, EVERYTHING is horrible, no one will ever love us the way we deserve, and sex is a huge thing?

Karin jokes that I should write porn. I'm pretty proud to say that I can write a hell of a love scene. While reading all of my old angst filled (read really bad) poetry I came across some, and realized that even as a teenager I wrote porn. It's kinda surprising to stumble across some of my more... graphic descriptions. What is even more surprising is that I was very inexperienced when I wrote them.

This one made me smile at the memories it brought back. Everyone please hide your laughter until I am out of the room. Read this stupid poem, and we won't ever talk about it again, okay? So, here is my tribute to the horrible life teenagers believe they have.

Always Remember

We talk alone each night
With no one there to hold us.
The days stretch endlessly,
As the time draws close
For us to speak again.
Our time is short and precious
Minutes snatched from greedy hands.
Our worlds as separate as night and day
Yet as perfectly similar as dawn and dusk.
Though miles separate us
But a connection will forever bind us
I know deep in my heart.
Sometimes I feel so alone,
But then we talk and things are somehow better.
You brighten my mood without even trying
You bring a laugh to my heart
And a smile to my face.
The simple things you do,
I treasure deep inside.
The sweet names you call me
Make my heart melt and my knees weak.
Your words thaw the ice from my veins.
And bring warmth to my lonely soul.
I wish you knew how good it feels.
To have you say sweet things.
I love our chats our letters our visits.
And I hope someday you may even care.
I’ll be here when you need me.
To help and comfort and calm your fears.
I’m here to spread laughter and brighten your smile.
Always remember that.
Always remember us.

Okay, lets all go and get a margarita now, and bitch about real life!

A to Z All About Me

2008-07-11T14:10:00.000-05:00

A-Attached or Single? Very Attached!

B-Best Friend? Rusty and Karin

C-Cake or Pie? Pie. Cake is gross!

D-Day of Choice? Saturdays. Usually the day I don't have to do anything.

E-Essential Items? A book to read.

F-Favorite Color? Dark blue.

G-Gummy Bears or Worms? definately worms

H-Hometown? Amarillo, Texas. But I was born in Memphis, TX

I-Indulgence? Books. I am addicted

J-January or July? January. July is WAY too hot!

K-Kids? none yet

L-Life isn’t complete without… Love

M-Marriage Date? December 22,2001

N-Number of Siblings? Two brothers.

O-Oranges or Apples? Apples

P-Phobias or Fears? Clowns... eeesh (I'm so glad I'm not the only one!)

Q-Quote? Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.

R-Reason to Smile? I'm alive, I have a wonderful, supportive husband, an awesome family and great friends. Can't get much better than that!

S-Superman or Wonder Woman? Wonder Woman!!!!Girls kick ass!

T-Tag 5 people. I don't know 5 people to tag.

U- Umbrella or poncho? Neither. I love the rain.

V-Vegetables? Yum

W-Worst Habit? I smoke. Everyone hates it, including me, but I am working on that problem too.

X-Ray or Ultrasound? Neither.

Y-Your Favorite Food? Grilled cheese (sad but true)

Z-Zodiac Sign? Gemini

I stole this from Karin Huddleston huddlekay.blogspot.com go see her, she's awesome!

Making myself write

2008-07-10T08:40:00.000-05:00

So, at the conference, one thing I kept hearing over and over and over was "write every day."

Guess what I haven't been doing....

I absolutely know I need to write more, but I always have all of these really bad excuses. I don't want to look at a computer anymore today... I have to cook dinner... I'm tired... There's a show on TV that I really want to watch... Stupid TV. I took the time to notice last night, even when my critique partner and I are "working" we are watching TV, how bad is that? Or, we are playing with her baby, or conversing with friends, relatives, spouses. And once I realized this, I almost cried. She (my critique partner) is one of the most valuable people in my life right now, and here I am wasting her time. I do have to say, before we got too sidetracked she was able to help me edit down an article I have due tomorrow, but then, we both just quit.

She was asked to join another critique group, and I hope it works out for her. I don't seem to be doing her any good at all. She does wonders for me, but what do I do?

Anyway, hopefully I have the will power to let my husband watch TV while I go in our office and write my little heart out. I promise myself, and my friend, I will write everyday. Maybe not on here, maybe not on my book, but somewhere. I have to. It is too important for me to just let it go.

We Won!

2008-06-23T08:11:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago, I got an email that said I was a finalist in the FiW 2008 writing contest. I screamed, jumped up and down like a five year old, and called my critique partner. She's really the only reason I submitted anything to the contest.
More time went by and she and I went to the conference. There were a lot of amazing people there. I got to meet editors and publishers and authors and realized that they are people just like me. I'm not completely over my fear of rejection (I know, everyone gets rejected, but still...), but I'm not terrified anymore. Let me set the scene for the awards luncheon.
My critique partner and I are sitting with an editor/publisher (a little nervous-making), we are eating bar-b-que (and I'm certain I'm going to slosh the greasy mess all over my clothes, and I was wearing light colors too, imagine that!).
There are a few hundred people in the room, and the president of PPW comes to the podium. She thanks us all for being there, and knows we are anxious to get to the awards. So, she reaches over and grabs the first envelope off the table. She announces the category, the judge.... and someone reminds her that there is a guest speaker. The tension level in the room spikes.
We make it through what seems to be the longest speech ever, and then the awards resume. Now, when I found out that my critique partner and I both finaled, I was pretty worried that we were going to be competing in the same category, but she finaled in Mainstream, and I'm a Romance girl (Well, I thought I was anyway.)
Finally we get to the mainstream category and my critique buddy wins. I want to jump up and down and scream and yell for her, but I manage to hang on to a shade of decorum. Category after category follows. I can't sit still in my chair. My knee bounces. I click my pen over and over. Finally, the romance category. And the finalists are... And Honorable mention is.... And third place is..... (I can literally feel my blood pressure rising. My eyeballs are going to explode out of my head, I know it.) And second place is.... And finally, the winner of the Romance category is Crystal Phares with Broken Rules.
I sat there like an idiot for a full ten seconds before my critique partner pushed me and I realized I had to go and accept my award. Reality had shifted for me, and I knew I was in an alternate universe.
I shook the appropriate hands, said thank you, and made it back to my chair without crying or falling down (a bonus in my life). After all was said and done, she and I sprinted to my car and immediately pulled out our cell phones. We both tried to be cool about it, sitting in this nice hotel's parking lot in a 400 degree car, both of us panting from exertion, heat and excitement and we call our husbands.
"Hey baby, how was the conference?" Mine sweet, sweet hubby asks.
"It was good. Met a lot of really great people, got some good advice."
"How was the awards lunch?"
"It was bar-b-que." My voice is quavering at this point and I want to tell him so bad that I'm ready to just yell it.
"You won didn't you?" He knows me WAY too well.
"I did! So did Alex* (I changed her name to protect the innocent involved!)" I practically screamed into the phone.
"Congrats! I knew you would win." He KNEW I would win? How? Did he pay off the judges?

See, my hubby is one of those people who believes in others. He has read maybe 3,000 words of the 65,000 I have written, but he knows it will work out. I want it too bad. And he wants it for me.
So, all in all, the 2008 Frontiers in Writing Conference was a HUGE success in my mind. Thanks to all the people who gave me great advice, and to all my friends and loved ones who have stood behind me! You're the greatest!