-
Put Down Your Red Stapler and Go Home. It’s Friday.
Three things. Uno – The “First and Last” contest is coming to a close tonight at midnight… but if you ask really nicely, I might let you finish your story over the weekend. Here’s a link to the contest info. And thanks to all who have already entered. So far, nearly 20 of you have taken on the challenge. I suspect a few more are waiting until the last minute to submit your brilliant work. Looking forward to reading each entry. Two – I invited you to send suggestions for first and last lines that I might choose from to write a story… and some of you have done that.…
-
Thursday
Just a reminder about tomorrow’s contest deadline. Yup. That’s all I’m giving you today. Well, that and this link to an MSNBC article on why we get lost in a good book. Feel free to use the comments section to tell me what you think. Tomorrow I’ll have a typical Friday grab-bag of random tidbits. Then next week, it’s back to regular blogposts packed with clever wisdom and snarky humor.
-
7 Excuses for Not Writing
It’s still Sunday in my world. What day is it where you are? And what’s the future like? Do we all have jetpacks yet? While I continue to be consumed by my editing work, I thought I’d give you seven excuses for not writing. Because, as we all know, these excuses play a key role in our efforts to cut our dreams off at the feet. Without them, we’d be writing all the time and getting better at it and paving the way for a successful future as published authors. And we wouldn’t want that, now, would we? You might want to bookmark this page so it’s readily available should…
-
Time Travel & Teleportation Aren’t Just for Science Fiction
The written word defies the laws of physics. Right now, as you read this, the author of these words could be parasailing in Grand Cayman, or tied to a chair in the belly of an abandoned oil tanker while being pistol-whipped by thugs (a case of mistaken identity, surely), or (gasp) even dead. Okay, that last one’s a bit morbid, but the only thing you can be relatively certain of is that on Sunday, when I wrote this, I was none of the above. But do you see what’s going on here? I’m talking to you from the past. Yup. We’re time traveling. I don’t know what “voice” you imagine…
-
Just Something to Ponder
Since you’re super busy writing your entry for the “First and Last” contest I announced on Friday, I won’t fill this space will heady writing wisdom that might otherwise distract you from the task at hand. I will offer a question for you to ponder. Which would you choose to tell your real life story: a non-fiction memoir, or a novel based (loosely or tightly) on your life? And why? That’s all for today. Don’t forget to write… your entry for the contest.
-
The “First and Last” Writing Contest
Okay, it’s really quite simple. Below are three “First” sentences and three “Last” sentences. All you have to do is write a short story or scene that begins with any one of the first sentences and ends with any one of the last sentences. Please, keep your entries under 400 words. Mystery. Romance. Science Fiction. Angsty or humorous. Write whatever you want. You have until midnight next Friday, July 31, to submit your entry. Depending on the number of entries, it will take me at least a week to sort through and determine the winners. Yes, you read that right “winnerS.” There will be three, chosen by me based on…
-
When Details Become Distraction
Version One. Benny’s cherry red Converse sneakers squeaked their delight on the Asian Mahogany Pergo laminate floor while his mother stirred the Nestle Semi-Sweet morsels into the cookie dough using the wood-handled Le Creuset spatula with the blue non-stick silicone surface that never failed her. “Now?” asked Benny, his brown eyes barely visible beneath the blue, red and white of the too-big Chicago Cubs baseball cap. “Not yet,” she answered, and she stirred some more, thankful for her Paderno copper mixing bowl and her Okite Creama Botticino countertop and a pair of neon orange Crocs that might elicit snide comments from women who wear Giuseppe Zanottis and pretend not to…