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Archive for February, 2010

Fear!

As I sit here at my desk, my thoughts wander; what should I write? I lean towards the monitor, grasping for the creative side within me, my hands hovering over the keyboard. Should I search for a prompt, a muse, or I could write what I see out my window…the rain poured, a patter on the windows for days now; reminds me of a lone sailor in a yawl thrashing through the swells…

What should I write? Should it be those two great ideas of mine; literary or fantasy? What draws me, what would draw the reader, Tolkien or Picoult? Oh how I wish to see the flow of words; one sentence into another, one paragraph into another, one chapter into another. I just can’t seem to move forward, to produce that first word, sentence or paragraph. I have read all the how-to books; why can’t I write? Sure I write this, but I yearn to write that the great American novel.

Would I give up before I started, touching not a key to pound out even a word? Please don’t tell me I am not meant to write! It is my life! I have read great fiction, day-dream my stories over and over why is it, am I so afraid?

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TypeKit Fonts

TypeKit is expensive!  Guess I’m cheap. 

Hope the readers don’t mind.  Oops.  If I have readers, I hope they don’t mind.

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Here’s a list of ten literary drunks & addicts, click the link to see the other 37 writer’s.  By the way, I took this list from an article at Life.com.

  1. Ernest Hemingway – Alcohol
  2. William Faulkner – Alcohol
  3. Elizabeth Browning – Opium
  4. Tennessee Williams – Alcohol, Amphetamine
  5. F. Scott Fitzgerald – Alcohol
  6. Edgar Allan Poe – Alcohol
  7. Louisa May Alcott – Opium
  8. John Steinbeck – Alcohol
  9. Stephen King – Alcohol, Cocaine, Prescription Meds
  10. Truman Capote – Alcohol, Various Drugs

 http://www.life.com/image/first/in-gallery/38742/famous-literary-drunks–addicts

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 Reading: 

  • Foundation by Isaac Asimov

Read – Like: 

  1. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith
  2. The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
  3. Nine Stories by J.D. Salinger
  4. In Cold Blood by Truman Capote
  5. Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke
  6. World According to Garp by John Irving
  7. Cider House Rules by John Irving
  8. Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte (pseudo name of Ellis Bell)
  9. Aztec by Gary Jennings
  10. The Journeyer by Gary Jennings
  11. A Tender Bar by JR Moehringer (Memoir)
  12. Prelude to Foundation by Isaac Asimov
  13. The Host by Stephanie Meyer
  14. Shannara Series by Terry Brooks
  15. The Landover and Void Series by Terry Brooks   

Read – Sort-of-like:

  • Compromising Positions by Susan Isaacs The characters are very well written, however, I felt, Susan Isaacs could have done more with the story between Judith and her husband; the first half of the book, the relationship between them was somewhat vague.  
  • Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov – Highly recommended by writers, and on several ‘best novel’ lists.  Makes me want to try to read it again.  Just a bit risqué for me; guess I can be a prude. Of course it is extremely well written, but reading about Humbert being sexually attracted to Delores, a twelve-year-old girl, just isn’t my thing. 

Read – Didn’t like:

  • Dream Catcher by Margaret Salinger (Memoir) After reading Dream Catcher, I felt sorry for the father (J.D. Salinger). Who knows, maybe she wrote it for this reason.

How-to Books that I liked:

  • Books – A Memoir by Larry McMurtry
  • Reading Like a Writer by Francine Prose
  • Sometimes the magic works by Terry Brooks

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You venture into the world of online dating. Browsing through profiles, you drop your coffee mug and it shatters on the ground—it can’t be.

My God!  Is it?  It couldn’t be.  Bumping her mug, she shrieked as it hit the floor.  Damn it.   “This is just great,” she muttered.  Looking up, she spied a young pimply faced Starbuck’s employee coming her way.

The young man hurriedly approached.  “Lady, watch the glass,” he glanced at her briefly, then again.  “You don’t look to good.  Are you…”

“I’m so sorry.  But.  I.  Well, I um, I’m sorry.”  She stammered.  “I have to go.  Here.”  She nervously slid a twenty across the table. “For the mug, and your trouble.”  Without looking back, she ran out of the shop and headed home, thinking to herself over and over, It can’t be, it just can’t be. 

Sarah pulled into her driveway, thankful John was gone.  Hurrying down to the basement, she pulled several boxes down from the shelves.  Of course, in the last box.  “I know it’s him.”  Finding the page, she studied his photo.  “Damn it.  It is!”

“What is?”  Her husband said with a smirk.

Sarah jumped at his voice.  “John, I thought you left.”  She brought the book to her chest.

“What are you doing Sarah!”  Her husband glanced at the book she held.  “Shouldn‘t you be at work?” 

She stood as he stepped over the boxes that were scattered about.  At his approach, she stepped back.  “Shouldn’t you be moved out already? It’s been two months now.”  Sarah quickly rounded the boxes to make for the stairs, but she was too slow.

“You know, don’t you?”  He spat as he spoke to her, gripping her arm in a vice-like grip. “Don’t deny it.  My computer shadows yours.  I know every sight you visit and every link you click on.” 

“Why would you be spying on me John?” She tried to free her arm. “Ouch, John, you‘re hurting me.” She pulled hard, but then he let go, sending her hard to the floor.  Looking up at him, “I thought Max was dead.  You said he was, you–you told me you checked.  John, what’s going on?”

He laughed at her stupidity.  “I thought he was dead too, he was suppose to be.”  He sighed heavily, and with a murderous look about his face, he picked the crowbar up off the counter.  “You always ruin everything Sarah.  Always.  Max was my best friend, but you loved him more.  He had to die, he should have died!”  With the heavy bar held high, he slammed it down toward her…”

“…MOM!  MOM!”  Jenny pounded harder.  “You’re having that bad dream again.  Wake up.”

“Stop pounding on the door. I’m up.” Her sheets were soaked and her heart was racing. “Come in, it’s unlocked.”

Jenny stuck her head in.  “There’s a weirdo on the phone.  Guy’s a freak, kept going on about Dad and high school.  I didn’t know you and dad went to school together.”

Me neither.  She smiled at her daughter, so much like Max.  “Tell him I’ll be right there.” Throwing her robe on, she yelled out, “and pack some cloths, we’re staying at grand-ma’s.”

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The Library

The Library is the community’s resource for access to information to promote knowledge, education, lifelong learning, leisure and a cultural enrichment for the people.  Also, the Library grants access to any individual, giving them ideas and information representative of all points of view.

Not only is there access to one Library, but many.  Counties are combining their Libraries, enabling residents access (free of charge) to all the books, videos, CDs, DVDs, audio books, e-books, etc. through a unified catalog and delivery system.  Borrowers now have convenient access to over million’s of material, and can be accessed in any branch library, home, office or school; all you need is a free Library card.  Materials can be conveniently picked up at any member location.

Also, another nice thing about a Library, is, that it provides computer services, which will bring youth’s into its facility, where the people may venture into the shelving area, pull out a fantastic read and be turned onto reading great classic’s; who knows where that may lead them. 

For me, the Library is one of my favorite places, in fact, it is thee favorite.  I’d rather be at the Library than at the movies or out shopping.  The Library is the one tax burden I don’t mind.  I do wish though, the teacher’s of young children, would emphasize the importance of the Library, maybe a class trip…

Just thought I’d express a word or two or more–well, as you can see, I’m a fan!

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Create a scene using four characters: One based on yourself, one based on someone you personally know, one based on someone you heard about in the media, and one spawning strictly from the imagination. Make the media story the hook or reason they’re all together, and base the scene around that.  

As each mile drew near, Candelyn grew more anxious.  “Ti, where’s the turn-off?”  

“It’s Tiana!”  

“What?  Since when?”  

“Since I turned eighteen.”  Her daughter sat back.  “It’s up a ways.”  

“I hope so; we’re running out of gas.”  Tossing her the map.   “Look again, I’m getting nervous.”  

Her daughter let out a sigh and muttered.  “Great, you got us lost.”  

“I did?  Who’s the navigator here?  Let’s pull over, no need…”  

“…Mom, look.”  

“Is it a woman?  It’s hard to tell.”  

Her daughter smirked.  “Yeah, I didn’t think people wore cloaks.”  

Candelyn pulled up along side the mysterious looking woman, who turned at their approach.  “Ti, roll down your…wait, get your mace out, just in case.”  She slowed the car to a crawl.  “Okay. Now.”  

“Miss.  Excuse me.  My daughter and I–”  Candelyn glanced forward then back at the woman.   To her utter amazement, the woman was gone. She looked at her daughter who returned her shocked expression.  

“Mom, she vanished. Poof.”  

“No I didn’t.”  

The two jumped at her voice.  Candelyn slammed on her breaks, while her daughter turned, facing the back seat, mace aimed and ready.  

“I won’t hurt you. I need you!”  The woman removed her cowl.  “Without you, the Producer is lost.  We need him.”  She beamed, an ethereal air about her.  “The end is near, midnight tonight.”  The woman waived,  “by the load you carry, I see you believe the media hype…the apocalypse of 2012. It’s true, you know.”  

“Ah.  My Uncle, he said it was better to be safe, then sorry.  We’re supposed to meet…”  

“…I know.  Clarksville Cave.”  

Tiana couldn’t help her curiosity.  “Producer, what does he produce? Movies?”  

“Tiana, it’s not the time to be funny.”  The Prophet responded.  

Candelyn grabbed her daughter’s mace and aimed it at the woman.  “How’d you know her name?  And how…”  

“…I am the Prophet.  I know all about you and your daughter. I’ve always known.”  The mysterious woman answered.  “We must hurry.  The end is near.”  The Prophet looked anxious.  “Please!”  

Tiana asked again.  “So, who is this Producer?”  

“There are many women at the cave; they’re waiting for us, and the Producer.  We must hurry!”  

“But I don’t understand.  Who…”  

Candelyn interrupted her daughter with a chuckle, and then answered.  “Producer, Tiana, don’t you get it?”  

“Oh yeah.  Oh! Producer. One man?”  Tiana asked.  

“There are a few,” the Prophet answered.  “This is the last one.  He’s been celibate for two years now.  He’s perfect!”  

Tiana shook her head, and then asked, “so few, is it enough?”  

The Prophet laughed.  “A stallion can produce many off springs.  Besides, fewer the men, the better?”  

“Sure is.”  Candelyn answered with a smile, before putting her car in drive and picking up speed.  

“Up ahead, around the corner.  You’ll see. It’s him.”  The Prophet supplied.  

Candelyn sped up and around the corner she spotted the broken down car.  Pulling up beside the car, she yelled out,  “excuse me, but…”  

“…yes,” bumping his head as he turned.  

“Holy crap!”  Tiana shrieked.  “Mom.  That’s John Mayer.”

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