Thinking Happy Thoughts

I am not sure which is more exciting, that my story won the June 2021 WEP, or that my three-year-old just pooped in a toilet instead of her pants (for the first time)! What a fantastic day!

I am going to admit, staying positive can be difficult. I sometimes reread the "average" reviews for my published short story and wonder if perhaps it was missing something that makes readers love stories. I am definitely not suffering from any illusions that all my stories are absolutely fantastic. I also completely understand the feedback labeling my work as confusing. I did not become a writer to create "normal" stories. Regardless, I feel accomplished just being part of the anthology. To my knowledge, no one has given me a one-star review, so I call it a win. I would love to read some reviews from people who regularly read science fiction, though. Most of the reviews I've read mention the genre is not their favorite. So, if you are a science fiction fan, pick up the anthology and drop us a review!

I am certainly grateful for any review. You can read the most recent full review here. There are also reviews on Amazon and Goodreads. Reading honest reviews helps me improve!

And on to the happier thoughts...(not the poo).

Winners were announced for the June 2021 WEP competition.

Congrats to all the winners:

Steph - Winner

Kalpana - Runner Up

Jemi - Encouragement Award

Pat - Team's Choice

Brilliant Debut Awards went to:

Jackie

Anne

Pennie

Such a great collection of stories and art. I have been very inspired by this challenge and am working on a treat for my readers involving some very beautiful artwork combined with some hopefully enjoyable stories. I need a few weeks to work on it, so maybe by the end of July!

Keep thinking happy thoughts!

WEP - Storm of the Water Dragon

 

STORM OF THE WATER DRAGON

“Are you sure this is where we will find her?” Hisoka shouted over the deafening wind and the splash of the waves against the hull of his trimaran.

    Everywhere he looked he saw gray—water, clouds, air. Even his skin looked gray. He feared the storm would force color from the world forever. The invisible horizon oscillated three meters above and below the edge of the deck. Lines and sheets vibrated and pulleys popped. Gray was the color of fear. 

    “Yes! All the oracles divined the same thing. I spent my whole life studying this. I am sure!” Asuka shouted. Her soft voice did not carry well through the turbulent air.

    “If we die out here…” Hisoka started. He wiped his face with his hands, trying to peel the water from his skin, but another spray surged over the side of the boat. “This is ridiculous!”

    “What did you expect? A giant butterfly resting on a sunny beach? We are talking about a water dragon!” The water roared all around them, erasing her voice.

    Hisoka shook his head. Conversation proved pointless. He spit out a mouthful of seawater and motioned Asuka to come below deck.

    Inside the salon, the noise shifted from constant whooshing and thunder to the sound of being trapped in a metal can being kicked down a gravel road. Hisoka grabbed a steel bottle from the cupholder. The tea inside made him gag. “Gods Asuka! Do you have to use my water bottles for that rubbish?”

    The trimaran lurched, sending Hisoka straight into Asuka. He put his hands against the cabinet but the force was so sudden his chest still collided with hers.

    “Must be a love potion. One swig and you can’t stay away from me!” Asuka laughed.

    Hisoka forced his breath out and braced himself against the opposite counter.

    “Your obsession with drinking potions does explain your crazy ideas about water dragons. I still cannot believe you talked me into this. That man was serious when he asked us to fill out our death certificates before embarking on this mad mission. Sea travel was shut down over a decade ago for a reason. The oceans are no longer passable. The surface temperature is out of control and the CO2 levels cause storms every few hours. I still don’t know how you convinced me to do this!” Hisoka fumed. 

    Asuka reached out to brush his arm gently, taking the bottle from his tightened fist. 

    “I think the news that we only have thirty years left on this planet did the majority of the convincing. That and the fact that my cycle is late. We both know there is no point having a child if they will never live to be our age. And what life would she have? Gasping for breath? Hiding in storm shelters? Eating from powdered ration bags? I am telling you, this will work. I know it.”

    “It is a fairy tale, Asuka. There are no such things as dragons. But somehow sailing into the sunset, finally living the dream we built for each other, seemed worth it. I just did not think it would be over so soon.”

    “Nothing is over, beloved. Anyone who seeks the power of the water dragon who perches at the end of the world will be flown to the portal of a new world.”

    “Yes and bad poetry is the product of wet farts after drinking the mead of poets,” Hisoka said.

    “True, most mythology is not literal. But most of them are analogies. Honestly, strong drink does drive some to create dreadful prose.”

    Hisoka let his head fall back, then quickly recovered as the boat took another dip. “I don’t want to get into another spiraling argument about your obsession with mythology. I just think you should let go of this delusion and welcome the release from this world with me, in my arms.”

    A tear fell from Asuka’s cheek. “That can’t be it, can it? The portal to another world is death?”

    Hisoka pulled her tight against him. “Did you honestly expect a dragon?”

    Asuka’s sobs became a torrent, echoing the storm raging beyond the hull. Tears fell freely, warm and golden. Hisoka wanted to bring her warmth and safety but did not know how. Then, warm light poured from Asuka’s eyes and flooded the boat. She grew hot in his arms and blinding light surrounded them both. 

    He could no longer see, so he called out to her. “Asuka!”

    All he heard was a pounding heartbeat and a steaming hiss that drowned out all other noise. He could no longer feel the hull beneath his feet, or the motion of the waves. He floated, suspended in air thick as smoke. “Asuka!” he cried again.

    The bright white light began to fade to gold. Hisoka blinked and rubbed his eyes. The faint shape of Asuka stood in front of him and he reached for her. The flesh of her arm was textured like scales, smooth, and hot.

    The salon faded into view and he once again felt the rocking of the boat, but this time it was gentle and rhythmic, how he remembered it as a kid sailing on an old fishing boat with his father. That was before the oceans could no longer sustain life and maintain Earth’s climate.

    Hisoka felt as if he had just awakened from a dream. He studied Asuka, steam rising and swirling around her. Her body radiated intense heat and her smile burned. She led him to the deck where the light of the sky shimmered on her skin. Outside they found a scene of extraordinary beauty. A creature jumped alongside the boat, stitching a pattern into the surface of the water. A mountain towered in the distance. But it was not Mt. Fuji. The peak was too high and broad and golden. A large bird flew overhead, its swooping neck turned to study him. Hisoka exhaled his disbelief and found himself in a new world.

Word Count: 996

FCA (Full Critique Accepted)

Click on the image above to enjoy more short stories by some awesome authors!

Fifteen-Year Friendship

Fifteen years ago today, I sat across the table from a guy who was way too skinny and way too tall. We were at a small, local pizza place in Maumelle, Arkansas.

The server approaches and asks for our order and the guy says, "Could you put 'buh-non-nuh' on the pizza? Like a Caribbean pizza?"

The server looks clueless and glances at me. "He is asking if you offer banana as a topping," I translate. She laughs, we order pineapple on his half and continue our meal. Clearly, all the signs pointed to this guy being a completely bizarre friend who would provide me with plenty of amusing moments. (Even if he did eat pineapple on his pizza.)

When the check is brought to our table, he slides it closer to himself and says, "If I pay, then I get to call this a date."

Really? Is that how it worked? A few months earlier, I met the guy while he was on a date with my best friend. I was still semi-engaged to my high school sweetheart and going to college. I just returned from studying abroad in France and had so many ideas about how I wanted my family to be.

Less than a month after I met him, though, my quasi-fiance walked, I could not sleep at night or eat anything, and overnight, all my friends were too concerned with picking a side that they ignored me completely.

But then I met this guy again. I swore he grew another five inches taller and his accent was even harder to understand, but I clearly understood him when he asked if I was gay. "You seem to hate men," he said. "And you are wearing a commie hat." He was referring to my short-brimmed cap that maybe looked a bit like something Castro wore. I laughed and went to get my sunglasses out of my car. We were at a park near a "mountain." At least that is what people in Arkansas call it.

"You drive a manual?!" he asked. We exchanged phone numbers and I was put in the Nokia bar phone as "Manual Mustang Girl."

The following week, he and my best friend came up with a plan to find me a good boyfriend. I am not sure why. I had my own apartment. I was doing great in school. I had plans to go to grad school anywhere else. But I went along with it. No taller than 5' 10", spiritual or at least open-minded, college or trade required, likes to do outdoor things, knows about cars, appreciates my art and cooking...I don't even remember the rest. 

Since this guy was "not from 'round here," and in circles I was not, he agreed to keep an eye out. 

Then late one night, I got a text. A text! Those things cost money! I didn't pay for those. So I called him. "You know I don't want to pay for messages, just call me, I have plenty of minutes. No one else calls and my mom is in my circle."

We talked for about an hour, it was the middle of the night. Then he said he rented some Monty Python DVD's from the Movie Gallery where he worked. I had not seen those in ages. "I'll come over," I said.

Before I knew it, we were movie buddies. He got a discount on rentals, and I love anime, and we talked on the phone when I couldn't sleep. He promised to make me a cake. He made jokes about fitting every description on my list.

"No, you are too tall."

"That is only one thing. I really like doing stuff outdoors and I don't know anything fun to do here. There is no beach. I grew up in Cape Town, beside an actual mountain between two whole oceans!"

"We have a mountain, you went to it. And yes, there is a beach. It is on a lake."

"There's a lake? See, I need someone to show me around. A local."

"You are 6' 7"! But I do like cake."

"Well, I will make a cake tonight, but let's go get pizza first. Can't have any pudding if you don't eat your pizza."

"I thought you said cake."

"Yes, cake is pudding."

"That does not make sense."

And that is how he ruined my visual image of a bunch of British children trying to take chocolate pudding without eating their meat.

So we went for that pizza. Fifteen years ago. What a friendship! Married eleven years, two kids, and many adventures behind us and ahead. I don't even mind the pineapple on my pizza, as long as it is gluten-free. Plus, we finally live closer to an ocean and visit it almost every weekend.

AtoZ Challenge - Reflections & IWSG May

May the month of May bring you little mayhem and plenty of mayhap. (May the Fourth be with you if you happen to be visiting on such a holy day.)

Anyways, I would like to share my reflections for the A to Z Challenge and answer the fabulous IWSG Question of the month.

First, I am happy to announce I successfully completed my first A to Z Challenge! I did half of the entries ahead of time and scrambled desperately to get the rest finished in time. I managed to post them all on the correct day and in so doing proved the strength of my marriage. (Dear husband, thank you for not abandoning me during my crazed, late-night keyboard clacking. Payback for all those long gaming nights if I'm honest.)

For the month of April, my site received around 3,500 visits and 180 new comments. I am very pleased with these numbers as a first-time participant. My blog recently turned one year old, so that is even better!

My favorite part about the entire experience was the connection with other writers and readers. Seeing their comments each day gave me a boost of confidence. A number of readers stuck through the entire series and read through to the finish. I was nervous to create a perfect ending for them. I wanted them to read the last words with a satisfied smile. I hope they did!

On the flip side, I learned about a number of new blogs I now follow as well. I added several in the margin to your left. There are some very inspiring storytellers and artists among them. I tried to reply or return every comment I received. In the coming months, I would like to feature some of my favorite bloggers. It was a long and difficult month and I intend to continue visiting and commenting until I am certain I did my part! Plus, there are many blogs I never got the chance to visit!

Now to the May 5th question:
Have any of your readers ever responded to your writing in a way that you didn't expect? If so, did it surprise you?

I received more feedback on my writing this past month than I thought I would. Thankfully, I was pleasantly surprised. I did not expect readers to follow the characters with such interest, nor did I expect them to be concerned for what would happen to them next. (Obviously, I hoped.) I was also pleased with the comments regarding worldbuilding. Reading their comments and dislikes for the villains/society helped me develop the story arc and bend the story toward that feedback. I found great joy in play-acting through my character and seeing the reaction as if I were looking directly at my audience. Special thanks to my most active readers, your comments kept me going:  Zalka Csenge Virág, Deborah Weber, Jemima Pett, Olga Godim, Iain Kelly, Jayashree, Yamini MacLean, Anne EG Nydam, Gail Baugniet, Anstice Brown, Jennifer Duggin, and Alex J Cavanaugh.

Please take a few moments to visit some other fabulous blogs. The awesome co-hosts for the May 5 posting of the IWSG are Erika Beebe, Tonja Drecker, Sadira Stone, and Cathrina Constantine!

Do you have a copy of the latest IWSG Anthology? Ten fantastic stories await you, and I am honored to say one of them is mine!

Catch the authors on tour!

Tuesday, May 4 - Laura Billings' blog: Bookish Equestrian
Tuesday, May 4 - Jemi Fraser's blog: Just Jemi
Wednesday, May 5 - Ellen Jacobson's author blog
Thursday, May 6 - Mason Canyon's blog: Thoughts in Progress
Friday, May 7 - Louise Barbour's blog: Standing Into Danger
Monday, May 10 - Nick Wilford's author blog
Wednesday, May 12 - Cathrina Constantine's author blog

Write, Edit, Publish - April - Freedom In the End

 

I originally wanted to share a memoir piece of working to fight against colorblindness, but it was really difficult to do in just 1000 words! I decided to share a different work instead. This is a short story I wrote recently. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for visiting. (I also wasn't smart enough to combine my A to Z Challenge...but I should have!)

I had to cut over 600 words, and it is still a little over, sorry!

FREEDOM IN THE END

Chryssa’s thumb rubbed against the smooth stone in her pocket and she pressed it against the side of her finger. She took it with her everywhere, which was much easier in the winter when she wore a big, puffy coat with large, comfy pockets. The cold air also made it easier to slip away into the woods unnoticed so she could play with its magic alone.

    Wind shook the branches far above her head and the cold air slipped around the collar of her coat. She scrunched her shoulders up and watched the ripples chase each other across a puddle. Her hand slipped out so she could look at the surface of the stone shifting like the reflection of a passing cloud. She had little time to play with her latest creation before the full moon reset the stone’s power.

    At first, only the shades of white changed, but then the glossy texture rippled and vibrated. The elliptical shape morphed, sprouting five legs with three joints. Tiny purple hairs shimmered on orange scales. The body grew until it matched the size of her palm and the legs were the lengths of drinking straws. The top blinked in waves of copper eyes. Despite having no facial expression, Chryssa knew the creature was happy to see her again. 

    She smiled at her creature and it returned the affection with another wave of blinks. Tiny turquoise claws tickled the palm of her hand as it danced excitedly. For a moment she felt love. 

    Behind her, voices whispered and footsteps crackled on a mixture of drying leaves and soupy soil. She closed her fingers around her creation, crushing it back into a state of cold, dormant stone.

    A pinecone hit the back of her head accompanied by a small round of laughter. She turned to look at them. Was it not enough to disturb her moment of joy? Did they have to assault her too?

    “She is probably eating worms.”

    “She probably has worms.”

    “The worms probably run away from her, even they don’t want her around.”

    Chryssa bit her bottom lip. Words never helped, only time. She did not even bother to tell the adults anymore. They said it was just a phase. One day, none of this would matter, they claimed. Was that fair? Just ten more years of school and she would be free of this phase, right?

    She pushed the regret from her mind and rubbed the stone silently in her pocket. Another pinecone bounced off her shoulder.

    “Stop throwing things!” a voice called from the distance—an adult trying to help. The footsteps retreated and so did the whispers. 

    Chryssa clenched her fingers tightly on her stone. At least they did not see it. They were not meant to see her gift. Every full moon for the past two years she invented a new being. Tiny pieces of life created from her own energy and her own mind bringing her deep pleasure. 

    An adult spoke behind her. “Chryssa, do you have something that does not belong to you?”

    Chryssa shook her head and kept her fists inside her pockets.

    “They said you took something from them, what is in your pockets?”

    Chryssa shook her head again. “I don’t have anything.”

    “Then show me your pockets.”

    Anger swelled inside. She stood still, shutting down in her mind as the adult tugged at her arms. Her hands were forced from her pockets but she kept the secret hidden in her fist.

    “What is in your hand, Chryssa?”

    She saw no way out. Her hand drifted in front of her, knuckles white with the effort to protect her precious magic. 

    “Well?”

    “It is my rock,” Chryssa whispered.

    “No!” a kid shouted. “She took it from me.” The lie floated toward her like an insect looking for the best place to sting.

    “I have no way of knowing whose rock it is. But, they say you took it from them, and you have it. I will take it so we don’t have any further conflict.”

    The adult’s hand hung in the air, waiting. The corners of Chryssa’s mouth turned down sharply and her eyes began to sting.

    “But it’s mine. I found it,” she cried.

    “Just because you found it does not make it yours,” the adult said. “It belonged to someone else before you found it.”

    “It’s a rock!” 

    “Chryssa!” 

    Her fingers loosened and the small stone sat like a tiny, distorted moon on her open palm. Chryssa took a step back and raised her hand to her mouth. She felt the cold pebble press between her lips and slide across her tongue. Her chin lifted and the magic slipped down her throat, leaving a trail of frost like she had swallowed an ice chip.

    The stone’s power melted inside her and somehow she knew she would never see it again. At least no one else could take it from her.

    Sadness and loss overcame her by the time the full moon finally arrived. On that eve, Chryssa stepped into the veil of night and leaned on her mother. She smiled at the brief moment of pleasure they shared. But something else stirred inside her.

    Wrapped close in her mother’s arms a small wave of sorrow washed over Chryssa as she realized no new creature would greet her. A soft kiss in her hair lured her back from the returning melancholy. The embrace loosened and she stood alone, trying to imagine what she would create this time.

    Something with wings, long silver flowing feathers with fluorescent purple shimmers streaming down a lengthy tail. The eyes would slant like a cat showing affection with a blink. Instead of a beak, it would have a wide grin on the tip of a long nose, with a horn at the end. The invention took shape and the bones inside her body shook with the pleasure of creation. The feathers felt warm but her core was ice cold, melting outward.

    Her lungs filled with the night air and her long neck swooped low. Her talons pressed into the cold soil, and she pushed herself upward toward the full moon. The freedom of her flight took away all of her pain. Nothing else mattered.

    She smiled so deep she could feel it in her roots. Nothing hindered her magic—twisting and turning in the cold clouds far above the world she never fit into.

Word Count 1065:  FCA

Don't forget to follow the link behind the image and visit the other wonderful authors who participated!

Busy Night is Business as Usual

 

Working on:

 a short story for QuaranCon 2021

Listening to:

Aurora

Drinking:

New Short Story Project

I've been working on a new short story. I am hoping to enter it into a contest this September, so I won't get to share any of it here. But it is inspired by the novel I'm working on, and somewhat of a prequel. I thought I would share some of the challenges with this new format.

One challenge is that I am trying a new point of view. Until I watched Brian Sanderson's lectures, I didn't even know it had a name. Epistolary is a story told through a series of letters (or other forms of documentation/correspondences). I have read a number of these in anthologies over the past few years, and I really enjoy them. It creates a sense of mystery and makes reading more interactive. The reader must piece together multiple perspectives, and read between the lines.

In my short story, there are two sources for the correspondences. These are from two main characters. The third main character is telling another point of view in standard first person. So far I think it is coming together. I have a little over 4000 words and the contest requires 4500 - 6000 total. I feel like I'm around two-thirds of the way through my plot, so this lines up nicely.

Another challenge is working with voice. I was a little concerned at first, because one of the characters is a male scientist, which I obviously am not. I will definitely get some readers to help me make sure the text is realistic in terms of character voice. Other than this, the project has been a fun one. I was lucky to receive some advice from a writing coach about a good method for planning, and I tried it out on this story. I feel more confident now that I have a little more structure to my planning process (sort of). I plan to hire a coach full-time after this contest is complete so that I can focus better on finishing my novel.

I want to elaborate on the "sort of" from the previous paragraph. Through writing, I have discovered much about my own mind. Although a test in high school told me that I was categorized as Abstract-Random, I see it now more than ever. My mind is like a crystal, casting light in every direction. But if I can angle it just right, if I can rotate it and capture my thoughts in the proper way, I can create a beautiful rainbow. The trick is getting all that scattered light to focus at the right points. I almost felt like having the plan made the writing harder, but if I look at it like a way to focus, then I can look forward to seeing all the colors line up nicely.

Photo by Malcolm Lightbody on Unsplash

Flash Fiction Activity

I have written some flash fiction and I'm excited to share it with you!

This story came from a cool activity that was on the lecture series I've been watching. Here is a link to the video if you want to give it a try. The guest lecturer walks you through the steps to writing a 250 word story. It was fun.

Happy Mother's Day

Despite being woken three times by a toddler in her recent effort to pretend to be a needy infant again, I would say it was a productive night, since I woke up with a perfect short story. I've been trying to get a short story going for a month. I want to get some work out and my novel is far from finished. I might be one third of the way finished with the first draft. But this morning I woke up with my inspiration.

First, a mother's confession. I get a little extra time to lie in bed on weekend mornings because I have chromecast. As soon as I hear my son run to the bathroom, I open Netflix on my phone and chromecast to the TV. Thomas appears all cheery and ready to greet my kiddos. That way I can snooze until the 30 minute Netflix message appears and I have to hit the play button again. So brilliant it is almost villainous. 

This time, however, I used that time to construct the basic short story elements. I forgot to take my journal to bed, so I needed to get everything settled before I left the room and got surrounded by my fan club. And I'm pretty sure I have what I need to get it going. 

I really wish it was already finished, because it connects to the sacrifice a parent and child can make for each other. It would be a great mother's day short story, even if it is a bit dark.

So here I am, morning hair and tea, ready to start the day. I even got the perfect message from my tea...

Apparently, I'm fascinated with time travel, because it keeps coming up! I'm calling it the Time Stitch, ...and Holy Mother there is jelly on my computer mouse. I love my children. Back to what I was saying... It follows the life of a very unfortunate woman, her battles to be a good person, and her ultimate failure. Sounds bad, but trust me, there is a good side to the story, and I can't wait to share it with you.

Happy Mother's Day to all the women in the world who have ever felt the weight of love in their hearts. We are all mothers to life, the women make the world glow.