Thursday, March 28, 2013

Thursday's Children 3/28/13

A weekly blog hop
where writers come together
to talk about whatever inspires them.

A few days ago I was going through old files and came across a red folder.
Its contents are horrifying. HORRIFYING, I TELL YOU!!
12th grade Creative Writing class papers!
Wow. Just. Wow.
Side bar: How many of you are
zooming in to try and
make out the date? lol
I apologize to Mrs. Royer for having to read that crap. She was very nice and encouraging –one of my favorite teachers.
My writing was pretty minimalistic, not a lot of description or detail. Reading it now, I think, it reads like a kid trying to tell someone a story, but they’re too excited to take a breath. In fact, Mrs. Royer marked run-on’s as my biggest problem. One five page story had 11 of them.  
That story is titled, The Frightening Experience of Chantel DuBois. Yes, I was also taking French. The story is about a woman who witnesses a murder. She believes the murderer got a good look at her and that her life is now in danger. I was going for edge-of-your-seat suspense.

But then, right in the middle of said suspense there is a quite jarring sentence.
Here is a snippet. See if you can find it.
The next morning when she woke up she remembered everything vividly, and hoped it was only a dream.
As she was eating her breakfast there was a knock at the door. "Who is it?" she asked in a shaky voice.
A man replied, "Delivery."
I guess she figured if it was the murderer he would have answered, "The murderer--"
So, she opened the door, and it was the man she saw in the alley. He raised the knife high above his head and came towards her. 

Did you find it? 
The only explanation I have is that I was a big fan of Saturday Night Live, and an all time favorite sketch was Landshark.
If you're too young, and not familiar with Landshark. Click here to watch a clip.

Another story in the folder was about guilt eating away at a boy, until he did the right thing. Hmm, wonder where that came from? A personal demon maybe?

There was also one called, The Last Friday. It's along the lines of an end of the world story, featuring a family running for shelter. I know what spawned this idea.

As a child I was constantly worried about the world ending, or losing all my family and friends. This was a result of a traumatic incident at age 11, that has left me, to this day, with an incredible fear of religion.

I have toyed with the idea of writing a post about what happened. Maybe it would be therapeutic? Maybe it would help others to understand my fear? And just maybe, somehow, the culprits could stumble upon the post and realize how it felt through my eyes?

So ... anyway ... I did find inspiration in these old stories. How about you? Have you ever written about a traumatic experience? Did it help?

One more thing, because I can't end this post sounding like a Debbie Downer.

Here is the opening line from another paper in the folder:

Have you ever had the delightful experience of eating hot chicken wings?

Do with it what you will. lol.

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Thursday's Children 3/14/13

A weekly blog hop
where writers come together
to talk about whatever inspires them.

The last several weeks I have enjoyed reading EM Castellan's "Project Reveal." I found it inspiring in getting re-inspired in my currently neglected WIP and decided to share my original inspiration for writing this story. Hahaha! Yes. I find myself amusing.

Well before I finished writing my first book, I started getting these various scenes stuck in my head. I would write them down and put them aside. I've always been fascinated with ghost stories, so I wasn't surprised when that was the recurring theme. My ghost had a name, Molly Weeds. I even know how she died and who killed her.
Molly Weeds

The title for this book came early for me. It may change, but for now...

Killing Weeds

I live near Ithaca, New York, and the gorges and old buildings are the perfect setting for a ghost story.


However, my ghost is not the main character of my story. I'm writing this in first person from the POV of Veronica "Ronnie." My first book was written in third, so this is new for me. Btw, I write YA.
The first time I met Ronnie was in a scene that I had in my head when I woke up one morning. It was very visual, and I'm not sure where it really came from. I felt a lot of emotion coming from her when I wrote it. And I feel strongly that it remains the first chapter. It's only 172 words, but I think it sets the tone that I'm looking for with this book -- which is completely different from my first.

I kind of want to share it.

Would you like to see it?

Nah, I shouldn't...

Ok. If you insist.

The pewter cup sat in the stone cubby, looking like a trophy. Like a reminder of a proud moment in your life, when you were the best at something. I couldn’t look at it. I didn’t feel proud. I felt sad and empty. I imagined myself whipping it out of there and rubbing its side like a magic lamp, resulting in a hail of smoke that would bring my mother back. But I knew better. She wouldn’t be coming back.
The pastor said his final ceremonial words, and then turned to my father. “You’re welcome to stay while the vault is sealed.”
I can’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that my mother has been reduced to ash, and now sits in that pewter cup. Or what’d he call it … an urn? I can’t watch them lock her in there. I turned to my father. “Can I go now?”
“Yeah,” he answered, not looking at me.
That was the beginning of endless months of him not looking at me. That was the beginning of my downward spiral.

I'd love to hear what you think.

PS - I just joined Pinterest. That's where I got the pictures and started putting together an inspiration board.

Saturday, March 9, 2013

Thursday's Children 3/7/13

Welcome to the Thursday’s Children Blog Hop, where writers come together to share whatever inspires them throughout their writing journey. Make sure to check out the other bloggers via the Link List at the bottom of this post. We’d love for you to join us!

For a couple of days I have been trying to come up with a topic for this post. What inspires me? Truth is, I've been so caught up with querying REACH that I've had a hard time focusing on my new WIP. I haven't actually worked on it for several weeks -- having trouble finding inspiration. The weather and Fibromyalgia don't help with motivation. 

Then I started reading this week's Thursday's Children posts. And I realized that you guys are all the inspiration I need. You are all so awesome! I love hearing about your WIPs. I love hearing your stories of inspiration. And I love hearing about your successes.

I also love how some of you have shared playlists, pictures and movie clips that help you in your writing. I'm totally doing that! I think it will be fun and really get me back into the right mindset.

Now I'm excited to dive into my WIP again!

I'll leave you with this video. This is a song that my mc mentions when thinking about the loss of her mother. It's one of my favorite songs, Stars (by Grace Potter) being covered by my favorite singer ... my daughter.

Thank you Thursday's Children!

Friday, March 1, 2013

Thursday's Children 2/28/13

Welcome to the Thursday’s Children Blog Hop, where writers come together to share whatever inspires them throughout their writing journey. Make sure to check out the other bloggers via the Link List at the bottom of this post. We’d love for you to join us!

I didn't post last week. My 15-year-old daughter, Lindsey, and I were in Florida visiting family. Which brings me to the inspiration for this week's post.
There have been two times in my life when I was truly afraid for my life. The second time happened last Thursday.

Lindsey and I were on a flight from Fort Myers, Florida, to Philadelphia, where we had a connecting flight to upstate New York. Before I go on, I should mention that I've been traveling since the age of 12. At 19, I worked for American Airlines. And, I was a travel agent for almost 10 years. That being said, I don't worry at the slightest bit of turbulence or bumpy landing. But what happened on this flight was completely terrifying.

We were minutes from landing -- the plane descending -- when it began to roll. First left. Then right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Still descending. Pressures building. Then suddenly, the plane shot up. What seemed like, STRAIGHT UP!

Lindsey and I were holding hands. No. Squeezing hands. I was seated on the aisle. I remember looking up and down the aisle and at everyone's face within view, thinking, what's happening?! Why hasn't anyone said anything? Why hasn't the pilot said ANYTHING?! We were still rising. But the airport is right there?!

Lindsey started crying and throwing up. She wasn't the only one throwing up. We could hear lots of those little bags crinkling open.

The whole thing lasted almost 30 minutes. That's a lot of time to fill with your own thoughts. Possible scenarios running through your head. The infamous "life flashing before your eyes." 

One thing I remember thinking was ...
My book. The novel that I have been working on for four years, will never see publication. The one thing, beside my children, that I am most proud of ... and no one will ever see it.

So ... I am grateful for the happy ending this story.

Lindsey bottle feeding a kangaroo

I am grateful
that we
got to spend
great week,
in beautiful Florida,
with family.

Me feeding a giraffe


I am more determined than ever to get REACH published. I would love a happy ending to that story.

PS - In the end, the pilot gave us a brief explanation, blowing it off as "a plane on the runway." I don't believe that was what happened, neither did a pilot friend.