Posted in Blogfest Entries, fantasy, Just for Fun!, Novel Excerpts, slices of life, Weekly Features, WIPpet Wednesday, writing, Writing in Freedom, Writing Sample

A Matter of Faith for WIPpet Wednesday

Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date.We’re led by the capable fingers and nimble mind of Emily Wrayburn.

Hello there, fellow WIPpeteers – and, to those just along for the ride – welcome! Hop in, get comfy…and enjoy the journey!

I’m typing this today in the cardiac cath lab waiting area. Jim is inside, being prepped for his central line port placement, through which he will receive his chemotherapy at some near-future time that has yet to be announced.

It’s 7:20am, an hour when I’m usually asleep.

Instead, I was up all night writing, blogging, and drafting my son’s homeschool report, because it’s much easier for me to stay up for early appointments than it is for me to get up for them – and Jim won’t be allowed to drive himself home.

So, while I have a few minutes to rub together, I thought I’d set up this post. I don’t have internet here, so no posting till later, but it’s nice to be getting to it early in the day. I’m often butting up hard against midnight, lately – if I get to posting at all.

Well, it’s now 11 hours later, and this post hasn’t made it past Word to my blog template yet. I was called in to be with Jim, then, while he had his procedure, I chatted with two other women in the waiting area until I was ushered back to his side while he recovered. Once we got home, I crashed for a three-hour nap. Since then, I’ve been alternately moving forward on hometending goals and puttering.

Now, though, it’s time to get this post done.

One last thing…

I haven’t been the best at visiting other #WIPpeteers, or responding to comments. There has been a great outpouring of positive energy headed our way…so much that it’s more than a bit overwhelming. In a very good way, but still…I’m emotionally overflowing, and need to take the answering a little at a time.

So, if you’re one of the people I’ve “ignored” since last week, please know it’s not because your comment doesn’t matter – but because it matters so much, I want to be able to give you the return attention you deserve. I do hope to get to everyone in the next week or so.

And now….on to the WIPpeting!

WIPpet Math:

  • Today is November 29, 2017.
  • My “fuzzy math” is: 9-2=7, and the month is 11…both lucky numbers when it comes to dice. Since my lucky number is 3, I’m sharing three sentences today, free of context.

A Matter of Faith

The problem was a matter of faith. Faith she was losing – if she ever truly had it.

It was difficult to tell whether what she had was truly faith, or the conditioning of a child that had been too young when taken from all she knew to resist what they gave her to replace it.

Who is the thinker of these thoughts?

Is she losing her faith?

Did she ever truly have it?

Any guesses?

If you’re missing my TnT fan fiction, and want more before they return from shore leave next week, you can pop over to my fanfiction.net page anytime and stock up. =D

And, as always, clicking the little blue froggy above will carry you on to other WIPpet offerings from our talented and diverse group of writerly folks. You can even add your own date-related excerpt if you’re so inclined!

 

Posted in Blog Hops and Fests, Challenges and Contests, Life Writing, NaNoWriMo 2012, Novel Excerpts, SoCS, Stream of Consciousness Saturday, Weekly Features, writing, Writing in Freedom, writing prompts, Writing Sample

The Scent of Inkberries: #SoCS and #NaNoWriMo2017

 

“But let us return to the story.” She lifted a hand, fingers lightly closed. “Each of the Nine came to Mother, each sharing the same core of truth. Two daughters would be born.” She lifted a finger to give the words the weight of a list; another thing about her that had nay changed with time. “One would carry the blood of Tacivaar, and the other of Canivaar.” A second finger joined the first. This one bore the stains of her inkberries, minding Niaan of those nights when she would wake to the sound of Konii’s quills scratching away at vellum, or scraps of fabric paper Rachyl sometimes wove and bound into books for her. They had had long whispered talks, oftimes, about what Konii was learning in the archives, and what Niaan was learning in the Huntlands, and how it ever seemed more real than anything they were learning as part of Mother’s lessons.

That early closeness had faded, but the scent of inkberries, or their stain on the Mouse’s fingers and shift, was still enough to bring the memory of it surging, bringing warmth and trust –

“You have stopped listening, little sister.”

What do inkberries smell like?

What is the rest of this story?

Do you want to read more?

This stream-of-consciousness snippet was written for Among the Firestars, Volume Five (I think) of my epic fantasy Trueborn series-in-the-making, and my current NaNoWriMo novel-in-progress.

 

Meanwhile, in real life…

Well, as they say, nothing is written in ink, or in stone – including that people who married each other a little over 20 years ago will get to live to grow into old age together.

My husband has metastasized pancreatic cancer. The first suggestion of the realities to come was the day after our twentieth anniversary on August 23. He was having abdominal pains – sharp and shooting, and, after most of the day thinking maybe it had more to do with the rich dinner we’d had at the oyster bar the night before, we were finally concerned enough about the possibility of appendicitis that we headed to the emergency room.

An ultrasound revealed the culprit was likely his gall bladder, and that he might need to be more careful of rich or dairy foods. But there was also a spot on his liver “Probaby fatty tissue,” we were told, but it was recommended that he see his primary care physician sometime the next week to be sure.

He didn’t go. We were between insurance plans, money was tight as we were launching a small business, and he didn’t want to pile up bills that would make things even tighter. He decided to wait for his regular appointment a few weeks later.

But he wasn’t feeling great. Digestive issues became chronic. In the back of my mind, I worried. He was tired, and his belly hurt. When he saw his doctor, she confirmed a mass on the larger lobe of his liver, and he came home to tell me there would be a series of tests and treatments, starting with a colonoscopy, and ending with the surgical removal of the alleged fatty tissue.

A day or so before the Thursday colonoscopy, his leg started hurting. He limped out of the appointment. The pain didn’t abate, and it swelled. On Monday, he went to the emergent care, because he’d been told they had the equipment to do an ultrasound on the leg. They didn’t, so they sent him on to the emergency room – and, there, they diagnosed a deep vein thrombosis – a blood clot running the length of his leg.

Then there was the bloodwork, which showed proteins indicative of cancer in his blood. The ultrasound that showed the liver mass, and a node on his pancreas. The biopsy that showed pancreatic tissue in the liver mass. The diagnosis, and the prognosis: six to twelve months. Inoperable. Incurable. Radiation won’t help. Chemotherapy will give him maybe more time, and better quality of life. But it won’t cure this.

Only death will.

Things aren’t written in stone, or in ink. But maybe I can change that – find a way to use indelible ink to etch these last twenty years and however many months, weeks, days – maybe even years, if we get very lucky – into my soul.

Maybe ink isn’t needed. Maybe the indelibility is right here with us, in our children, in our home, in our minds and memories –

And in every moment we’re all still here, and living, and loving…

**

This post is my dip into Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday, where this week’s prompt is “ink.”

Read more SoCS posts right here.

Want to join in? Here are the rules.

Remains of the Last Supper of Our Old Normal, Aug. 23, 2017.

 

Posted in Blog Hops and Fests, Enterprise fan fiction, Fan fiction, Flash Fiction Pieces, Just for Fun!, SoCS, Star Trek: Enterprise, Stream of Consciousness Saturday, Weekly Features, Writing in Freedom, Writing Sample

Surprises for #SoCS (A day late)

Standard disclaimer:

 I don’t own them; I don’t profit from them. They just tell me to write, and I do as ordered. They both outrank me, after all!

Surprises

“Which is it, T’Pol?”  Trip put his hands on his hips and got too close; that always seemed to trigger her a little, but, just like these dust-ups they seemed to keep on having, herkind of got the feeling that she liked it as much as he did.

She straightened her spine – how the hell did she manage to make it straighter than it already was? What the hell kind of witch was she, and what was going to happen if Starfleet Command ever saw her doing that? Probably have every human in Starfleet breaking their backs trying to do the same thing.

“Commander Tucker.”

“Yeah?” He sent the shiver of arousal at the way she said his name right back to her; her eyes were zeroed in on him, just him, and he wanted to keep them that way. Woman had the sexiest damn eyes – not quite as dark as they looked in a jazz club on a Tuesday night, and he thought he could get lost in the little flecks of green and gold –

“You are obstructing my path, and preventing me from determining the answer to your query.”

Damn. Her chin was up, and she enunciated each word. He could tell she was getting “agitated,” as she put it. If he pushed her any further now, he was going to push her away, and he didn’t want that.

No, he didn’t want that at all.

What he wanted was to get a hell of a lot closer to his Vulcan Surprise Package, now that they were both officially assigned to the same ship.  And that meant unwrapping a few surprises of his own.

He faux-glared at her for another second and a half, then shrugged. “Well, since I’m apparently just getting in your way, Sub-commander, the station is all yours. Never mind that this is Engineering, and I’m the Chief Engineer, since I’m sure you were playing with more complicated toys than this before you cut your first tooth –“

“I have never injured my teeth, Commander Tucker. And you are still blocking my access to the diagnostic display.”

“Well, then – I guess I’ll just go get a sandwich, since I’m not needed here.” He spun around and walked off, but turned to face her way when he went down the ladder. She was still standing in the same place, but she’d turned her head to watch him go, and it was a little tipped in that adorable way that said that just maybe he’d surprised her.

Trip started to whistle, imagining how much more surprised she was going to be when he brought her back a cup of chamomile tea.

This Star Trek: Enterprise TnT fan fiction is brought to you courtesy of Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday, where this week’s prompt was “Which/witch/wich;” beginning with “Which”, and using all three versions, but NOT the old “Which witch is which.” As always, no editing (beyond typos).

You can find more of my fan fiction on my ff.net page.

Wade into more SoCS posts!

Add your own (here’s the rules!)

Posted in "Monday Morning Coffee", #8Sunday, Blog Hops and Fests, Blogfest Entries, Marketing my Writing, Published Works, Short Stories, Weekend Writing Warriors, Weekly Features, Writing Sample

One Short Syllable for #WeWriWa #8Sunday

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors’ Eight Sentence Sunday – the weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! We’ve got a variety of genres and talented writers just waiting for you to come sample our wordy wares.  Come read one, or all!

If you’re inclined to share your own 8-10 sentence snippet, follow the link and sign up. It’s a great community to be a part of! =D

“Monday Morning Coffee”  has been with me since I was sixteen. A local boy with schizophrenia wandered away from his family at a large outdoor event. Several days later, he was found, deceased.

From that story came this one – the connection might not be clear to anyone but me – but it’s there.

Context:


Rose is at work on a Monday morning, feeling inspiration in the form of a newspaper rose.

 One Short Syllable

I’ll put Jeremy’s rose right by my lamp, to inspire me…

Above, in the livelier parts of the library, students and faculty mingle with the other librarians – the ones I’ve never paid much attention to.

Up above, right now, is life, and possibility.  That’s something I can tell Jeremy when I see him on Friday, before I ask all the questions already boiling over in my mind. The flower, and the story of how it came to me, are things I can talk about, with the others…

I pick up Jeremy’s paper rose, and head upstairs, humming “Red Rubber Ball”.  I see one of my colleagues wiping down tables – Fred? Brad? Matt?  I only know that it’s one short syllable.

What does Rose intend to do now?

Will she remember her colleague’s name?

Where will the rose lead Rose?

Any guesses?

 “Monday Morning Coffee” was originally published in the 2015 edition of World Unknown Review.  Since I retain all rights beyond first publication, I intend to revise the story and use it as my initial self-published offering.

As I type this on Thursday evening, NaNoWriMo is figuratively breathing down my neck, looking over my shoulder, and I’m still in the planning/early plotting stages of my WIP-to-be.

I’m not overly concerned, though. Each step in my hybridized process yields new insights and inspirations, and gets me a little more into the story world, so that my mind is priming itself for the journey ahead. I’m a discovery writer, anyway. Even when I have a well-developed plot, at some point the characters will just decide to go their own ways, and – poof! Before I know it, everything is different, and almost always for the better.

I’ll keep on going until November 1 – and then we’ll see.

Until then, may you and yours find joy!

Looking for more #8Sunday?

Posted in Blog Hops and Fests, Enterprise fan fiction, Fan fiction, Flash Fiction Pieces, Just for Fun!, Short Stories, SoCS, Star Trek: Enterprise, Stream of Consciousness Saturday, The IDIC Romance, Weekly Features, Writing in Freedom, Writing Sample

“It Is Not My Name”: #SoCS for October 21, 2017

“Pepperpot, you gotta let me go –”

“What is the meaning of that nomenclature, Trip?”

“Huh?”

“On several occasions, you have addressed me as ‘Pepperpot.’ It is not my name.”

“If I promise to tell you after I use the head, will you let me go do that before I embarrass myself?”

“Only if you promise to tell me immediately after.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Pepperpot. Do I get to wash my hands first?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Upon whether you wish to touch me while you –“

“Yes, I want to touch you. Haven’t you figured it out yet? I pretty much ALWAYS want to touch you.”

“Humans tend to be unpredictable. I can’t simply discount the possibility that you will at some point choose not to touch me.”

“Not in here, when we’re off duty, and no one’s watching but us chickens.”

“We’re not chickens, Trip –“

“I know that, T’Pol.”

“There have also been many occasions when you haven’t wanted to touch me or be in close proximity to me.”

“Damn. Now I can’t walk away and leave you here with that look in your eyes. C’mere. I didn’t understand you – what you needed, and how you Vulcans….well, tick, when it comes to this kind of thing. Now that I know, and know what you need – honestly, I find it pretty damned sexy, how much you want to touch and be touched, even if your kind of touching is different from what I fumbled around with as a kid. Just makes you more challenging – and I like a challenge.”

“Trip?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you call me ‘Pepperpot’ when it’s not my name?”

“We had a deal. I tell you AFTER I pee – unless you’d rather I just let go right here and now.”

“I would NOT.”

“Then keep your shirt on a minute. Be right back.”

“I’m not wearing a shirt.”

“Or anything else. It’s a figure of speech.”

“It hurts my ears when you speak loudly from that distance –“

“What’d you say? Couldn’t hear you.”

“Please refrain from raising your voice. I can hear you perfectly.”

“Sometimes I forget these are as functional as they are pretty. Sorry.”

“Have you washed your hands?”

“I wouldn’t be touching your sexy ears if I hadn’t. I’m a gentleman, remember.”

“That depends on how one defines ‘gentleman.’ You’re breaking your promise.”

“What – oh. The ‘Pepperpot’ thing.”

“Yes. As you say,’ the Pepperpot thing.’”

“It’s a nickname.”

“Vulcans don’t employ nicknames.”

“Well, humans do. It’s a sign of affection to give one’s lover – or mate, in your case – a nickname. Besides, T’Pol is a bit formal for in here.”

“It’s my name, Trip.”

“Yup. The same one everyone else calls you, out there. We need something special for in here.”

“Everyone aboard calls you Trip.”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to give me a nickname. Your terms fit: t’hy’la, ashayam. But, much as I love you, you’re not a sweetheart, a darling, or a dear. I wouldn’t like you nearly as much if you were.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Look up those words later; you’ll see I’m right. But you ARE a little like pepper. Spicy, potent, versatile, enchanting – and sometimes, you even make me sneeze.”

“That is a falsehood.”

“That’s true – but if variety is the spice of life, woman, you’re still my favorite seasoning.”


I’ve had a tricky time posting here the last few weeks. Life has been interesting, with many new things, and growing things, and learning things. But today I have an unexpected day off, and, while I’m deep in two ongoing courses and a brand-new class, plus doing the administration and marketing for my husband’s hot sauce business, plus planning and plotting my NaNoWriMo novel…I decided to come and spend a little time exploring Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness waters. You can dip your toes into other posts, or wade in yourself.

This week’s prompt is “season/seasoning”, either as the words, or using seasonings, with bonus points for beginning and/or ending with seasonings or the prompt words.

And, as always, the standard disclaimer. I don’t own them; I make no money from them – I simply love them enough to share them! =D

 

 

Posted in "Monday Morning Coffee", #8Sunday, Blog Hops and Fests, Blogfest Entries, Marketing my Writing, Published Works, Short Stories, Weekly Features, writing, Writing Sample

Like a Promise  for #WeWriWa #8Sunday

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors’ Eight Sentence Sunday!

It’s the weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! We’ve got a variety of genres and talented writers just waiting for you to come sample their wordy wares.  Come read one, or all!

If you’re inclined to share your own 8-10 sentence snippet, follow the link and sign up. It’s a great community to be a part of! =D

“Monday Morning Coffee”  has been with me since I was sixteen. A local boy with schizophrenia wandered away from his family at a large outdoor event. Several days later,  he was found, deceased.

From that story came this one – the connection might not be clear to anyone but me – but it’s there.

Context:


Rose is at work on a Monday morning, contemplating Jeremy and the nature of her own humanity – or perhaps, lack thereof…

Like a Promise

I’m like her, here – the nameless, faceless Very Tame Dragon in her lair, seldom surfacing, seldom seen.

I read the letter again, focusing on what it says about that thorny hundred dollar bill:

“The money, I leave you as a gift; do with it what you will.  I have less need of it than you might suspect.”

This week stretches ahead, suddenly alive with possibility. Jeremy’s money sits on my bare desk like a promise. Maybe I’ll find a pretty blotter –  I loved those as a little girl.

What will Rose do with the money Jeremy gave her?

Where did that money come from?

Can she learn to embrace her own humanity?

Any guesses?

 “Monday Morning Coffee” was originally published in the 2015 edition of World Unknown Review.  Since I retain all rights beyond first publication, I intend to revise the story and use it as my initial self-published offering.

I was away much of last week, and never quite got to the point of pulling together an #8sunday post. My husband and I spent four days in Maine – a mini-romantic getaway that was the first one we’ve had since we became parents a little over 16 years ago.

Now I’m back, recharged and ready for new challengeslike NaNoWriMo

Until then, may you and yours find joy!

Looking for more #8Sunday?

Posted in Business Startup, Challenges and Contests, Life Writing, SoCS, Stream of Consciousness Saturday, Weekly Features

I Think It’s Safe to Say….#SoCS

I think it’s safe to say that we have a successful small business.

Okay, it’s still not bringing in enough cash to meet our expenses, but it’s growing, and building a reputation, and we’re gradually expanding, while at the same time trying to save ourselves the headaches of goig ino debt to finance the business.

But Chef Bluebeard’s hot sauces are a going concern.

That’s a little dizzying to me, considering that we launched our sales in late June, and, at the time, we had one battered car we sweated taking the 5 miles to the one local farmer’s market we worked each week.

It’s now just over 3 months later, and I’m typing this post from our county fairgrounds, where we’re working a swap meet and bike show that’s attracting clubs from all over the state. We’ve made back our booth rental, and we’ve got three hours left to go for this event. We tend to do a bit better as the day goes on, and this event includes alcohol which can be carried throughout the venue. It’s also cool and overcast, with showers – good weather to think about warming up your taste buds!

I actually stopped for a while in the middle of the last sentence. Met a very nice couple, and sold them two bottles of sauce. And stopped again after that sentence to sell another. That makes our count a respectable 8 for the day, so far, and still a bit over 2 hours to go.

So, as I said, we’re finding our pace, and hitting our stride. The next adventure is going to be contacting a woman I ran into outsidea craft store yesterday; by some coincidence, we struck up a conversation, and she organizes craft shows and associated events. So we may have more opportunities in 2018 than we can handle. =)

Also on the agenda – getting the sauce into stores. I finally have a better label solution – since we began, I’ve been printing the labels on regular paper, two to a page, and Jim has been cutting them out and taping them to the bottles. I found sticker sheets, though, and they print fine. It’s still an interim solution – the job is getting to be a bit much for my aging printer, and it’s one of those things I’d happily delegate to a local small business – but, until I have the time and energy to find a printer willing to take on some custom work, sticker sheets should yield 3 labels per page, and, now that we have UPC codes, we are ready to start querying local independent stores. We’re especially looking for those who deal in specialty or related items – and there are quite a few in the area, many of which cater to tourists in the summer season.

We’re still at the beginning of things, still feeling our way along…but gaining confidence as we go, and learning all the time.

P.S. We got to 11 bottles, by the time the event wrapped up – and rumor has it that it was a very slow year. Tomorrow, we’re off to a craft fair….and more sales. =D

What can you safely say today?

This has been a stream-of-consciousness post to Joey’s prompt: “save/safe” for Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Find the rules here, or visit more posters here.