Muse!

So after a few attempts at more of my short stories, even going through old works and hoping to breathe new life into them, I began to realize I started telling the same story in three different, shorter stories… I lost all the writing books I used to have, over the many years in between when I used to actually write and now, so I purchased a few more off of Amazon.com to read in bed with my phone… okay, six more. What can I say- I believe getting a well-rounded education in each subject of choice is important.

So many light bulbs went off. Here were SO many things I’d forgotten to use to help focus my writing. Things I’ve even instinctively done, but because I wasn’t focusing on it, those wonderful moments have been few and far between. My favorite game so far: The What If Game– what if your character was a–? what if the hero was a–? what if? What if? Wee! The ride gets fun, then!

Now I sit down and the sounds of glee coming from my bedroom where I keep my writing desk, sounds almost obscene. And really, it’s almost exquisite, that feeling of knowing you’re doing it right. I have to stop repeatedly for many things, and an hour or six isn’t usually possible in one of my days until night time- especially with kids home from school on vacation! So these tools and tips really help further what at first began as a simple exercise to revamp my writing abilities. I know there’s something more, here. Perhaps that something I always wanted to tell but stopped myself and wrote shorter sections for. Whatever it was that I stopped writing for, I’m not sure I remember… but I hope it never happens again!

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Excerpt from short story, Unfortunate Animal

Well, I finished it… for now. There’ll be more to tell some day, I’m sure, if I wanted to elaborate. But for now, I think I wrapped it up fairly tight.  This is just a teaser, from somewhere in the middle- for more, hit up the page on my blog and read the whole thing! 

Shayna’s insides quivered. The woman in front of her- for it was obviously a woman’s shape, face covered or not, and there was a glimpse of wavy brown hair underneath the hat she was wearing- was shaking, so much so that Shayna was afraid she’d be shot accidentally. The barrel of the gun was dark and staring at her from a mere three inches away, daring her to flinch just once before lights-out. She knew she didn’t have long on this Earth before this morning, but fighting cancer was more honorable a death than the move of a stupid, scared chit who obviously didn’t plan things beyond holding her hostage.

“You don’t have to shoot me,” Shayna whispered, barely audible. “I don’t know what hellhole chewed you up and spit you out, but this job isn’t worth my life, nor your going to prison- or worse. You don’t have to do this to get what you need.” So quiet, so low, so soft- yet Cathy heard each and every word. She moved her gun up and to the side, just a little, hesitating for a brief moment. She considered it- if she came clean to the cops on all the stuff she’d done, would they really just let her have her son back? Or is it really better to give Roller his money and hope her son was still alive after a little further “payment” had been received? She wasn’t sure which was worse.

Cathy saw a shadow approaching out of the corner of her eye and she stepped back further into the shadowy corner, managing to keep hold of the gun she had almost let go of in her indecision. She was still shaking, and as the shadow stepped into a room across the hall and closed the door, she fumbled with the gun. Her worst fear was coming true, she was about to be found out for sure… and as the gun hit her thumb, the cocked trigger let loose it’s payload, flying not in the direction of poor Shayna, but instead toward the coffee counter in the opposite direction, breaking one of the pots in the process.

A loud commotion ensued, with what appeared to be a stack of cases of sodas falling over on it’s own propulsion and cans of soup rolling into the viewable part of the aisle. They could hear someone grunting in the aisle a mere thirty feet away. Soon, there would be more people coming in and she’d be done for.

To be continued…

Short Story (no title)

Part 1

Cathy didn’t know what to do. Neither did the white-haired store clerk; her gum, white against her teeth and pale pink lipstick, was frozen in place as they stared at each other. The safe was there. Easy pickings. This frail woman ought to give her no problem; she must be malnourished, she’s so thin and wiry. Her hair was pinched back into a sloppy wad at the nape of her neck, teeny wire glasses barely hanging on her nose, as her eyes widened, realizing Cathy wasn’t going to let her just go. Not yet.
Cathy motioned to the woman’s right with the gun she was holding. Not saying a word, the two of them played the game the way it was supposed to be played. The seemingly older woman knelt down, hands behind her head, and squirmed against the wall as Cathy closed in, gun closer to the woman’s forehead than she’d ever held a gun before. In all seriousness, Cathy was just hoping that this would be over soon, that she could get out of here, not get seen on camera, and leave with nobody caring about much more than the fact that they were still alive. She checked her hat to make sure it still covered her face – it was still there.
She knew it was dark in this corner, having seen the place the day before when she came in to look for chips and a soda and use the restroom, just across the walkway. She also saw how much foot traffic came by and how many people came in from this busy sidewalk. This tiny place must do a lot of business, she thought. She knew if she was going to make her deadline, tonight was the night, and this was the place.
She truly hoped she wouldn’t have to do anything that might hurt this old woman. Or herself. She needed to keep up her strength so she could deal with her fence – “Roller” was how he was known here – and she was already tired having spent a near-sleepless night in the practically unused janitorial closet. He wasn’t exactly happy with her already, and had collateral; her son was too vulnerable and too young, to know who to trust right now, and he was giving the boy everything he wanted. For the moment. She just had to get into this safe.
With the woman down on her knees and unarmed, she glanced sideways and contemplated the next step – she wondered how she could force someone to open it for her – she’d caught her a few moments early, just before she played with those damn buttons. Her jaw clenched and she drew her eyebrows together, as a desperate feeling grew in the pit of her stomach. The other employee was in front, completely oblivious to what was going on in the office room. But it wouldn’t be long before he asked for help out there – it really did get jumping first thing in the morning in this busy city.

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To see more, click on the page Short Story (no title) 

Ongoing project.

Inspiration


Next 24 hours, I’ll do some more writing- What’s it going to be?

Newbie Alert!

Well, I’ve gone and done it and begun to do the writing I always wanted to dedicate myself to. And why not? With so many ways and people to share it with, it really is my only goal… to write something fun, interesting, inspiring, daring, frightening — and share it. And it’s incredibly easy these days.

I enjoy constructive criticism… for example, if I use too many of these ……….. I totally understand, and let me know- sometimes it’s easy to get carried away with how things sound in my head and I forget my punctuation, although I DO attempt to go over things after the fact. If I’ve written something that doesn’t quite make sense to you, please fill me in so I can attempt better, more concise explanations to keep my readers “where they belong”– which is in the story, and not on the page, so to speak.

Thanks for checking things out! I pledge here on out, to check my Facebook AFTER my writing in the mornings, and not until then, and perhaps even get a bit creative in the evenings as well, after kiddos are in bed sleeping (or pretending to be.)

By the way, the first story I wrote, begun last night after seeing one of those “inspire me” photos WordPress likes to give you when you click on the option (didn’t know about that, didja? Okay, maybe it was just me…) I don’t have the photo, but it was a picture of a rusted safe in the middle of rubble… It’s funny how a story can start out as one thing, and end up as another, isn’t it?

-MommaC