Category Archives: My Stories

On Writing: Writing Ritual

Here is another piece I wrote for you! I hope you enjoy.  This one is in the second person! Something new for me.

Your Writing Ritual

Every year you participate. NaNoWriMo, to everyone in the know. When you have to explain it, it becomes National Novel Writing Month, but when talking with other writers, who haven’t heard tell of it, you can’t help but feel a certain superiority. How could they not?
All year long you plan ahead, thinking to that one month where you will write with abandon, hammering out as many words every day as you can muster. Bemoaning the fact yet again that you took on this challenge, yet somehow finding the moxie to finish.
This too though comes with its own little mini rituals. You of course can’t write without your proper writing kit. Which has to include your favorite pen, the blue fountain pen, no others will do. Even though at the end of the day you are going to be typing on your laptop in Scrivener. But who can blame you? That pen is lucky! It holds the key to your muse. But then don’t forge that you have to do the writing down in the waiting room at the Mayo Clinic. Sure that sounds strange to many, but there is something about the ambiance to the place that allows you let go of everything else and just hammer out those words faster then you can even type them. It truly is a mystery how a place matters, you just know it does and so you must stick with it.
In those sad times when you can’t go to ‘your spot’ to write, you have learned that you must write at nine p.m. at night. No other time will do. It is the magic moment. You prepare yourself, always making sure you are home by seven so that you can start getting things ready to write. It is a process. You have to pick the right tea for the night, you have to find your writing kit, make sure you have the right snacks setting by your computer, not to mention get your friends on hangouts ready to sit and write with you.
Really, what self-respecting writer does it alone?!? It is imperative that you drag your friends, kicking and screaming into NaNoWriMo with you, of course. They also give you someone to bemoan the word count that you are behind on, yet again. While comparing yourself to that one gal who finished her fifty thousand words in the first week. You just know that she cheated, there is no other way to have accomplished such a feat.
After you have your friends lined up, you go back to your tea and actually go through the process of heating the water, but you do this the old fashioned way. On the stove, in your whistling tea kettle. Pouring it over your tea, you savor the flavor as you contemplate what you are going to be writing about this time. Knowing full well that when you get to your computer and that blank page is blinking at you, the words will never come.
Sitting down at your computer, blue fountain pen at hand, tea steaming near you, and bag of Cheetos in your lap, you gently place your fingers on the keys. Lightly stroking them, waiting for the inspiration you are sure is never to come, but then the impossible happens… words start flowing out of you and you are off, lost to the world of words that will amaze and delight you when you stop and read them. Finding more than double your usual word count in half the time. Wondering what magic has befallen you, thankful your muse was not fickle this time.

 

Well, there you have it, another piece helping my writing grow! I hope you enjoyed it.  Let me know in the comments below what you thought!

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Memoir Moments: Last Moments

Well, there has been a change in plans, but the lists are soon to come, I am sure!  Instead, may I share with you a piece I wrote for one of my creative writing classes.  This is a piece from my memoir collection, please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think!

Last Moments

The room was silent, death hovering in the air. It was so thick you breathed it in with every breath, a heaviness that was cloying. Her eyes flew open, clear for the first time in days. A stark contrast to the glazed over look she had lately.
She ripped off her oxygen mask, something that had become an accessory over the course of a month. Leaving her lips ragged and chapped. There was a wildness about her, a finality in that moment.
“Fuck” she swore. The word loud and sharp in the darkness. Her eyes looked around wildly, her hand grasping. I moved up close to her, taking her seeking hand in mine.
“I am right here, love. It is alright.” I assured her. The hand I clasped tightly, cold and limp, a jarring contrast to the heat of mine and the strength she always had.
Her breath wheezed in, raggedly a couple times. A heavy cough rattled out, foam and blood dotting her lips. She shook her head no and slammed the recliner shut with a strength that had been lost to her days ago, surprising us all.
Looking directly in my eyes, a calmness settled over her. “I love you” she whispered to me. The finality in her voice makes me suck in all my air, holding my breath to keep the tears threatening to fall at bay. Her eyes widened and all the air left her in a final ragged gasp. The room going silent in the predawn hours once more. Stunned silence keeping us all still only moments. Kenny reaching up, feels for a pulse, grabs his stethoscope and says quietly to the room, “time of death 5:43” the tears running freely down his face as he calls his own daughters time of death. My wife was gone.

 

I hope that you enjoyed this piece, and again, leave any thoughts in the comments below!

Short Story: The Roadster Smart Car

Here is a glimpse of a short story I wrote for my Craft of Plot class.  Thought it would be fun to share and see what you all thought. I would like to rewrite this and maybe come up with a few more for an anthology…

The Roadster Smart Car

​Driving around to all the local car dealerships, I’m saddened. All I wanted was a brand new car, one that had never been owned and driven by another! A bright orange copper Roadster Smart Car, is that too much to ask? Ready to head home from the last dealership in town my phone rings.

“Yeah, talk to me” I answer.

“Hello, is this Malikyi?”

“Yup, who is this? What can I do for you?”

“This is Dr Schetziki’s nurse, Rose. I am calling to let you know that those tests came back and it is bad.” I hear a bit of a gulp on the line.

“How bad exactly?” I ask, my eyes narrowing. So not what I want to deal with today.

“Well, umm, I am sorry to tell you, but… There’s no easy way to say this,” she trails off.

“Oh just say it, it can’t be that bad.” I gripe.

Her breath puffs through the phone, “I am afraid sir, it is. You have a brain tumor, and… to be perfectly honest we don’t know how you are still alive. You have twenty-four hours to live. You should consider getting your affairs in order. I’m dreadfully sorry”

Before I can respond, the line goes dead. I guess it really was that bad. What now? I have always been the type to live life to the fullest. No regrets, that is what my sister taught me. Come to think of it, she was right around my age when she died. Staring out the window I sit there a moment. I wish I could have gotten that car. Overall, I have no regrets, maybe I should see who is free tonight, have a fun dinner out with everyone.

Getting ready for the dinner, my doorbell rings. Opening, there is a strange looking little man standing there.

“Can I help you?” I ask rather dubiously.

“No. But I my friend can help you. I can make all your worries disappear, or grant your deepest wish for that new Roadster you wanted.” He said with a flair.
“All my worries disappear, what worries?”

“You horribly short life expectancy of course! Now, what would you like, your dream car for your remaining few hours, or to be tumor free? Leaving you free to live a long life.” His eyes watch me, a deepness to them leaving me a bit nervous.

“Wow, umm, honestly that is a tough call. Things happen for a reason. But living my life, I could get the car eventually so that seems a no brainer.” I respond.

“Ah, there is one catch. If you ever get your dream car, your tumor will be back and you will die,” he says gently.

“I knew there had to be something. Honestly, my life is in order. I don’t mind dying young. Give me the car.” I decide suddenly. Why not, I miss my sister, this life isn’t really all that great anyway. I am ready to be done.

“As you wish, here are the keys. It is parked out front. Enjoy the rest of your life.” He disappears in a cloud of smoke, smelling of jasmine.

 

Well, there it is in all it’s glory. What do you think?  Do you enjoy it? Should I pursue this or toss it in the drawer?