Just a Note: Short Story – Flash Fiction

It might be just a note, but I wonder why it was so important to her. Maybe this could be the beginnings of a future romance. Hmmm….

The denim fabric of a jeans
The denim fabric of a jeans (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

She swallowed hard before washing down the fried egg she was eating. “You have the note with you? I wrote a list on the back of it. I need it back. I have to go to the store to pick up more dog bones.” Kendra checked her black T-shirt, hoping she didn’t drop any of her breakfast on her shirt or blue jeans. Her brown hair hung just above her eyes. She’d need another hair cut in about a week when it would start poking her in the eyes once again.

“I threw it out,” Randy explained. “I didn’t think it was important. Why would you write your shopping list on the back? People use post-it notes for that.” He’d driven all the way from Plattsburgh to listen to her complaint about a stupid note. Maybe he should get on with it and break up with her. Their relationship wasn’t ever going to go anywhere anyway. Who was he kidding? All she cared about was her dogs. They always seemed to come first in her life.

“You threw it out?” Kendra dove for the trash bucket. She needed that note, not just the list. That note had the password to her account. That’s the last thing she needed a trash picker to get their hands on. What the hell was he thinking? Throw the thing away – gad.

Before Randy could stop her, she had the entire contents on the floor. Nowhere was there a note to be found. “Kendra, listen to me. You’re nuts. Look at you. The note isn’t there.”

“You said you threw it away.”

“I did. But it’s gone.”

“It can’t be. I just saw it this morning.”

“Oh, that note. It’s here.” He held up a little brown paper bag, out of her reach. “Tell me you love me.”

“Randy, give that to me now!”

“Nope, not until you tell me you love me.” He continued to dangle the bag above her head, out of arms reach.

“Randy! I got to have that note!”

“Fine!” He tossed the bag across the room, away from her. “That’s it, we’re done. Don’t bother calling me.” Randy pocketed his car keys from the table, snatched up his jacket from the back of the chair, and let the screen door slam behind him.

Kendra sat on the floor holding the note she pulled from the bag. The slam of the screen door, bringing her to her senses. It was too late. Randy had already driven away.

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How Many Words Does it Take to Make a Novel?

Have you ever wondered how many words it takes to make a novel?

I just picked three of my favorite books and did a simple count equation, added them all together and divided the sum by three. The average I came up with was 83421. This means to me that my stories are falling short of novel status. I need to learn more about my characters below their surfaces. It is time to start digging deeper.

I need to find out what their secrets are, what they fear and what they dream about. All these things make them tick and keeps them going.  A bunch of dominoes waiting to fall. If the right one falls, everything can fall apart for the hero or the heroine. How much should they lose before they take action?

Life is full of conflicts, even in historical stories. Back then it was constant war. Most people never lived beyond forty. With the biggest cause of death being killed in battle. The second cause of death was a disease. Then came starvation.

Getting inside a character’s head can be a bit scary. You’re about to experience the same thing the character is going through. Loss of family and homes, being alone in a world filled with constant battles to stay alive. Where is the safe haven?

These things are some of what I have avoided in the past when writing. Now, I’m about to embark on this new character encounter. Learning to see through their eyes all the stumbling blocks they will need to face. This must be one of the reasons some writers will write the end of the story first. That way they can remember that the story does have a potential to have a happy ending.

What does word counts mean to your writing?

Do you ever feel like you fall short of your goals when you write THE END?

Pluto, Is it a Planet or a Piece of Star Dust?

Charon compared with Eris, Pluto, Makemake, Ha...
Charon compared with Eris, Pluto, Makemake, Haumea, Orcus, 2007 OR 10 , Quaoar, their moons and Earth. All to scale (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

The hype is up on Pluto. Apparently they have found mountains on the surface of the tiny planet. I don’t know why they are so excited about the finding. Isn’t there a mountain range of some sort on our own moon. So, the planet must have some movement of it’s solid surface, whatever that may be.

 

I want to know why they changed the planet’s status from being a planet of our solar system like I had been taught in school back in the 70’s and 80’s.

 

Next they are going to tell us that there are inhabitants on the planet. Little stardust fairies are living underground waiting to board their spaceships to travel too our world and rob our resources. Oh hold on, we’re doing that to ourselves anyways.

 

Tell me, what happens if we continue to remove all the oil from within the earth? Will it collapse on itself? I’ve heard that they fill these wells back up with water, but I can’t imagine that water staying put. It eventually evaporates, doesn’t it?

 

Pluto is so far away from the sun. I find it hard to believe that anything could live in those kinds of conditions. Except for maybe the Others from the Game of Thrones. They like it cold, don’t they?

 

I’m on book 4 of the Game of Thrones, and still waiting to find out where the Others come from. Could be it is a portal from the planet/start dust Pluto.

 

I like GRRM writing. I love the books. My favorite characters are Tyrion, Arya, Jon Snow, and of course Daenerys Targaryen. I’m really hoping that the rumor of Jon Snow’s death in the last episode of Season 5 HBO series isn’t true. Did they kill Ghost? Don’t they have to kill the beast to kill the warg?

 

I see there is a new book out. Book 6. I will find it hard to believe that there will be anyone left alive when I get to that book.

 

Bird Feeder and Thirds

Bird House

This birdfeeder is the best. All the squirrels and chipmunks hate the thing since they haven’t once been able to rob it. The feeder was purchased at the Tractor Supply Store and was reasonably priced. It was a Christmas gift given to my DH. He loves it! When and if, a squirrel or chipmunk makes it to the perch, their weight causes the spring controlled cover to close making the food inaccessible. The roof, itself, keeps them at bay.

Last year we used a conventional feeder. No matter what we did, we couldn’t stop those critters from taking all the seed. The older dog didn’t help matters. She won’t chase them. Apparently they are her friends. Every time we would try to shoo them away from the feeder she would take to barking at us, not the pesky rodents.

Keelaa, on the other hand, loves to chase those squirrels and chipmunks. She’s pretty fast too. One day she managed to run up the hill before the squirrel and was waiting for it. I guess that critter was in a bit of shock to find a little dog waiting for it. That squirrel ran up the nearest tree, complaining the whole time.

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A Journey For All of Us

 

Photo courtesy of Creative Commons Bing Images

Every one of us has a book within waiting to be written. With each of us is on his/her own journey. It’s only a matter of what you decide to make of it. Remember that last time your car broke down? Did you rant? Did you get angry and blame someone else? Did you take it out on someone else? That is the makings of drama.

We writers use drama – aka conflict. The conflict in our stories. It is the glue that keeps us reading. Conflict is a reaction to a problem – big or small. When the reaction is in a big way – that creates drama, the sort of thing that the soap operas are made of.

The next time your car runs out of gas, the windshield wipers fall off, or your tire rolls past you on your way to the store, think of it as part of your journey. You’re that story that only you can write the happy ending for.

Your a Writer so Act Like One

Image courtesy of Creative Commons Bing Images

Everyone has an excuse not to write. I think we are afraid of ourselves, of what we might write. It’s not so much about the writing being bad, it’s more. When you write, it is like peeling an onion. Somewhere in our writings there are bits and pieces of us layered within. A small memory, making our writing be like that pensive Dumbledore had in his chamber.

Yes, we fear constructive criticism, but our worst critic is ourselves. If no one tells you what is wrong with a story, then you can’t fix it. You only need let go of your ego. Yes, that little chip on your shoulder that says you are greater than all. We all have a small piece of that chip that needs to be brushed off once in a while. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good to believe in yourself, but it’s not good to not be able to look at yourself.

I love watching myself grow as a writer. Yes, some of my early works suck. They’re not written in stone, though. I can go back at any given time and rewrite them. I won’t until I feel I have gained enough skill to take another shot at them. I’ve learned to forgive myself for anything poorly written.

A beginning artist draws stick figures as a child. The more they draw, the more their figures take shape until they have that piece of artwork that draws the attention of all at the local art show. Writing is the same. It is a skill that isn’t a given. The more you do it, the better you get.

Don’t be afraid to let the words flow. Stop your excuses. Find a time slot in your day and write, something, anything, and write as fast as you can. The more you do this, the easier it gets to write. You’d be amazed at what you can write in just ten minutes. With practice, even your typing skills improve, making your word count increase.

So Write – Write Often…

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Memories Creation While No One Wants To Do

When I wrote my first blog post for MySpace, it probably was similar to a child drawing with crayons. The words didn’t stay in the lines so to speak, like a very sloppy coloring job. I did nothing about it because I didn’t know any better. I’d been out of school for years, I guess I had forgotten more than I’d thought.

The first post came about because I was bored with doing nothing. Though, crocheting and knitting really can’t be considered nothing. You are still making something, but I got tired of that. I wanted to create something else. A story.

They say you tend to write about what you know. I do believe I sort of did that with Friends of Choice. The character, Karla, reminded me of my daughter who was giving me teenage troubles at the time. Not the same kind of troubles, but troubles none the less. It was the year she had decided to drop out of school and take life into her own hands.

image courtesy of creative commons bing images

Why is it that kids, when they reach that stage, believe they know everything there is to know?

She knew nothing – nothing at all.

Now she can say she knows things. She’s done well for herself. It was a rough start, definitely a struggle. It always is when you’re a single mom living on a limited income. I have to say, I’m actually impressed with where she is at to this day.

ROW80 Check-in:

I’ve got my new blog site set up, as you can see. I really like it. Though, I’m still not sure I like the theme.

I think it must be time to make our goals once again. Last round, I was missing in action. Blogging and writing blues along with ongoing health issues. I feel much better now, and I’m ready to get down and dirty.

Pulls up sleeves… I haven’t worked much on that wip or any of them for that matter. It is high time that I did. For the past day, I’ve been working on blog posts and scheduling them. This is such a neat feature. But even WordPress takes practice before you learn what you can do with the thing.

Almost every time I sit down to write someone pops their head in and ask, “wha cha doing?”

I feel like saying, “You know what I’m doing, so why are you asking. Stop pestering me.”

Today I turned the tables. I went around and asked, “Wha cha doing?”

The answers I got were…

“Playing…,” as my other half worked on his sketch up program.

The puppy having come back from our little walk responded by lying on her side – panting. I guess she was resting.

I then asked my son. His response was, “Probably nothing.”

I know that won’t be what he’ll be doing. He is the last person in the world I would expect to sit around and stew for extended periods of time. I’m sure, soon, he’ll be out that door. On his way to a friend’s house to play video games.

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