Success Saturday: The Third Week in August 2015

I have composed several blog entries, one flash fiction, and one poem. I also mailed one birthday greeting. All in all this week was a successful writing week.

Today I purchased a new pushcart to transport my groceries from the car to the house. It is easier to put all my purchases in a cart and push them to the house instead of carrying several different grocery bags. If I did not use a pushcart I would have to make several different trips to the car to carry everything in the house. While this would probably be good exercise, it is a waste of energy and time.

This week I discovered that if I do not put a task on my appointment to do list it does not get done. Therefore, I put the this blog on that list so that I have to do the entries.

A successful week
A week of discovery
A week of writing

I posted something almost everyday to Facebook. I don't post long status update unless something unusual happens. I think short status updates are better because people can respond to them easier. I also managed to make a fresh carafe of coffee everyday because I have only a five cup coffeemaker.

Success Saturday: A Mixed Week in Las Vegas

I have had both successes and failures this week. I managed to make my writing goal four days out of seven. I also managed to get the refrigerator and freezer reorganized. On Thursday I went to the store and ware myself out walking up and down the aisles because I did not take a list with me. I kept going back to an aisle when I remember something else I needed.

I wrote a romantic flash fiction story and submitted it to a contest on writing.com. I still need to do a little work on the story after the contest. The problem I had with the story is that I did not put enough forethought about the plot and the characters. I will write another romantic story this coming week, but I will take a little different approach to it then I did the one I wrote this week.

I will be working the primary and general election this year. I went to a class on Friday for clerk. Last year I work the early voting, but I probably won't work it this year because this is a municipal election year. Voter turn out in municipal elections is always low so not as many people are needed to work the polls. As soon as I receive my sample ballot I will decide where I am going to early vote. I hope I can do it in one of the grocery stores because then I can early vote and then do some grocery shopping.

Sunday Speculations: Contemplation or Consideration

According to dictionary.com one of the meanings of speculation is contemplation or consideration. After much contemplation and consideration, I have decided that the theme for my Sunday blog entries will concern speculation, contemplation, and consideration on various writing methods, subjects, and thoughts. I have no idea what I will be writing about from one Sunday to the next. The only thing I am sure of at this time is that it will cover some aspect of creative writing. I may compose a poem about a subject that caught my attention during the week. I may write flash fiction or discuss a character I am working on.

I have decided to attempt creating a short blog entry everyday. I expect each entry to be between one hundred and three hundred words, but some entries may be shorter (poem entries) and some may be longer (flash fiction stories). I know that I have attempted several times in the past to write blog entries everyday with limited success. I will not say I failed because I keep trying. As long as a person keeps trying the person is not failing. Repeated attempts at any project is considered practice rather then failure (this is my personal belief).

I ask anyone who wants to see what I am writing every day to subscribe to this blog or save the address on your favorites. Twenty Fifteen is a new year full of promise and speculation. I hope to survive the year and write numerous blogs entries about various subject with a focus on how those subjects effect the way I write. I am looking forward to reading your comments.

Thoughtful Thursday: Housework and Insomnia

My grandmother did housework at midnight,
when she couldn't sleep
and the nights grew long
waiting for the coming dawn.

Last night, I found myself doing dishes between 11:30 pm and 12:00 am. As I put my hands into the hot soapy water, I remember Grandma Mary. Grandma didn't wash dishes at midnight, but she did sweep, mop, or vacuum the floors. I found myself unable to sleep, so I got up and wash the few dishes that I had overlooked.

After finishing the dishes, I looked around my studio apartment to decide what else I could do. I picked some stuff up off the floor and then got the trash ready to take out this morning. I wasn't going to carry the trash to the alley that time of night. It wasn't that I was afraid, but it was dark and there are no lights in the court yard.

My grandmother did housework at midnight,
when my grandfather slept
snoring away
grandma would vacuum the floors
without waking him up.

I don't know if the housework wore her out to the point that she could sleep. I know washing the dishes didn't make me tired. I think the next time I can't sleep, I will try sweeping or mopping the bathroom because it is small and it isn't difficult to sweep or mop in an hours time. I start with the small room and then work my way up to the rest of the apartment.

Normally, when I can't sleep I get on-line to write or surf the net. I've been wanting a change of pace, so doing housework that time of night would fit the bill. Perhaps sweeping and mopping would cause me to sleep; at least it would give me some exercise. I'll see how it works out, if nothing else it will make a good flash fiction story.

Time-Out Tuesday: Recharging my Batteries

I am working an a new flash fiction story called Self-Indulgent Echoes (Working Title). I have the first two paragraphs written, but I cannot think of anything else to write. The deadline is Wednesday, July 2, so I have to finish it tonight so that I can edit it before the 8:59 deadline. The problem is that I have no idea where this story is going, which is not unusual when I write flash fiction.

Normally, I start the first paragraph and then continue writing without interruption. However, normal is not working this afternoon. I am stuck. The characters are not helping in anyway. Being stuck on this story does not help my word count. It does not help me think. My mind is not cooperating. My muse has left me temporarily.

I am going to post this entry. I am going to turn off the computer. I think I need to take a short break, say some prayer and clean out the coffee maker. I will see if I can get back to this story after that. My mind does not want to cooperate with me on composing this entry. I definitely need a break.

Success Saturday: My Writing accomplishments for June 22 to June 28, 2014

What did I accomplish this week? I finished two flash fiction stories for the collection Zodiac Signs (Wording Title). The first is titled The Pisces and the second The Black Onyx Inn. I finished one poem called Lost in Wonder Land, which was based on a picture about Alice in Wonderland.

How did I do on my word count goal? I wrote over 1,000 words each day, but I did not reach the 2,000 words per day goal. This means I have to reevaluate something before I set my goals for next week. Perhaps I should consider it an accomplishment writing anything considering how distracted I have been for the last seven days.

How did I do on my review goal? I did good on everything except the long reviews. Most of the reviews I did were between 250 to 700 characters long. That could be the size limit of my review if I want to do more then four reviews a day. Maybe next week I will not worry about doing any long reviews and simply stick to the length I am comfortable with and focus on completing other writing projects.

Was it a successful week? Yes! I finished a couple of stories and a poem. I wrote over 7,000 words for the week and I completed numerous reviews on writing.com. All in all, I would say it was a successful week, all though I could have done better. I will attempt to do better this coming week.

Friday Afternoon Thoughts about Writing Inspiration

I'm working on a poem tentatively titled Dearly Beloved using specific words. Those words are dearly, tear, fragile, firmly, tender, words, etched, and soul. I think it's a love poem, but I could be wrong. Since the inspiration was a group of words, I'm not sure what genre of poem it will turn out to be when I'm finished. This is normal when I use prompts for stories or poem.

I'm also working on a group of flash fiction stories based on prompts inspired by the signs of the zodiac. Each story is five hundred words or less and I have to use at least five of a group of ten words. I have already written four of the stories, with the deadline for the next story being June 27 at 11:59 pm EDT (8:59 pm PDT). This group concerns a honeymoon trip to twelve different cities in twelve months. I have no idea what will happen in the next story, but I'm sure it will be exciting.

The Last Saturday in January 2013

It is the last Saturday in January. It is raining in Las Vegas, Nevada. I am listening to the echoes of the trash collection trucks as they drive through my neighborhood. The  trucks are red and on this rainy day they look clean. The red of the trucks stand out against the dismal gray of the day.

It is the last Saturday in January. The birds are perched in oak, olive, and pine trees singing. The rain makes the birds happy, but I know that the sun would make them just as happy. The birds do not seem to notice the song of the garbage trucks as they pick up and empty trashcans. The birds sing their own songs that do not interfere with the songs of the garbage trucks.

It is the last Saturday in January 2013 and their are five days left in the month. It seems that only yesterday we were celebrating a New Year. January is almost gone and February around the corner. As I look out my window, I try to remember my accomplishments this month. I can remember writing poems, I can remember writing flash fiction, and I can remember making blog entries. What other goals did I accomplish during January 2013? I think I will leave that question hanging for a while, post this entry, and get me another cup of coffee.

The types of writing I have accomplished in 2011

Since January 1, 2011, I have accomplished several different types of writing. I have composed blog entries, written poetry, flash fiction, short stories, an article, and four newsletters. I have posted some of the items in my port on writing.com.

I have not written a personal essay this year. I think that is the next type I want to attempt. I have not attempted several other types of writing. I would like to attempt travel writing this year; however, the only place I have traveled to is Meadows Mall in Las Vegas, Nevada. I have not left Las Vegas in several years, which does not preclude travel writing. It does limit the subjects I can cover.

In the past few years, I have traveled to Search Light, Nevada, to visit my sister. I have also gone to Henderson because my mother’s doctor is there. I have not left Nevada in several years. I want a vacation, but that does not look feasible. In absence of a vacation, I will investigate travel articles and write something about a staycation.

I do not have to go to the Las Vegas Strip to take a staycation. Las Vegas has other attractions besides the Strip. I will take a staycation and write an article about that. It will give me practice in writing travel articles.

Visit My Portfolio @ Writing.Com

Why is the cat staring at me?

“Why is the cat staring at me?” sounds like a good title for a flash fiction story. The cat I am referring to is Midnight, who is sitting on a wooden stand by the window. Once I noticed him staring at me, turned his head and began staring out the living room window.

I do not know what he sees outside because there are no birds in the yard this morning. Even the pigeons that usually pick olives from the ground are missing today. The only thing for him to see is the wind blowing through the weeds and the olive tree. He could be looking at the sun, which sometimes shines through the clouds.

Midnight seems content to sit by the window and stare outside or stare at me when I am at the computer. I still do not know why Midnight stares at me when I sit down to compose something. I checked the food and water dishes to make sure that I filled them this morning.

The only other cat items I have to check are the litter boxes. Perhaps Midnight wants me to clean them this morning instead of waiting until evening. Cats are mysterious creature and one never really knows what is on their minds.

A theme for my next writing.com fantasy newsletter

I completed and posted the July edition last night. I now have to start on the August edition. The subject for the July edition concerned words as a writer's tools. I think the next edition will cover Urban fantasy, which means I am going to have to start researching the subject. I also need to write an Urban fantasy flash fiction or short story.

The writing.com fantasy newsletter is composed of three to five paragraphs from the editor. In addition, there are sections for letters to the editor and editor's picks. The editor's picks are stories or poems covering the subject of the newsletter. I want to answer the following questions in the August newsletter

1. What is Urban fantasy?
2. Who writes Urban fantasy?
3. What are the components of an Urban fantasy story?
4. Who publishes Urban fantasy?
5. Who reads Urban fantasy?
6. What is the difference between a good and a bad Urban fantasy story?

Nobody sends postcards any more

aDaily writing practice prompt for Friday, July 10, 2009: “Write about a postcard.”

"Nobody sends postcards any more," Lara sit staring out the kitchen window watching the limbs of pink oleanders blowing in the morning breeze.

"That's not true, Mom," Clara studied the expression on her mother's face. "I received postcard in my e-mail box yesterday. It was from Uncle Joe."

"I'm talking about postcard sent through ordinary mail, not over some electronic device." Lara sighed, "If more people sent postcards through the postal systems then the economy would improve."

"How do you figure that, Mom," Clara smiled as her mother poured coffee into their cups.

"Well," the sound of mail falling through the slot in the front door interrupted Lara. Getting up, she walked into the entrance hall and picked up a postcard off the floor.

"Who's it from, Mom?"

"It's from your Uncle Joe!"

"Uncle Joe? Mom," Clara took the card from her mother's hands, "it can't be from Uncle Joe. He doesn’t use snail mail any more!"

Write about the inevitable

Daily Writing Practice Prompt for Friday, July 3, 2009 was “Write about the inevitable.”

I've always wondered about the inevitable. People talk about something being inevitable, but often what is referred to as "the inevitable" doesn't occur. I recently found out how to tell if something really is inevitable.

I've procrastinated about upgrading to Internet Explorer 8 for a few months. Yesterday, July 6, 2009, I upgraded my browser to Explorer 8. I upgraded because my system is set to download automatic updates. I'm glad my system is set that way because if it wasn't I would still be putting off upgrading to Explorer 8. It was inevitable that I upgrade to Explorer 8.

"The Inevitable", therefore, is something that happens even if you put the decision off. In fact, that sounds like a good title and plot for a short story or piece of flash fiction.

Life’s Little Mysteries

A writer's daily life is full of little mysteries that appear to have no solution. I have about three mysteries that I could use as the basis to a fantasy or science fiction story. I don't think these puzzles would make good novels or short stories, but they would make good flash fiction stories. These mysteries are

1. What happened to all my spoons? I still have several full sets of knives and forks, but only half-a-dozen mismatched spoons. The logical explanation, of course, we inadvertently threw away, but if that was the case then why do we still have the knives and forks to the sets.
2. What happened to all my socks? I have about a dozen mismatched pairs of socks, which I can't wear any place except at home. The logical explanations are lost in the washing machine, in the wrong dresser drawer or under a piece of furniture, but those explanations raise other questions.
3. Why can't I get all the laundry done in one day? My mother and myself are the only two people in this house, but we have to do laundry every day to stay even with the never ending pile. My grandmother did laundry for seven people once a week and we had enough cloths to last us all seven days, while changing cloths several times a day. However, if I let the laundry go a single day then it takes me a week to catch up.

These are only a few of the little mysteries I've noticed the past year or so. Maybe now that I'm 62 they just seem more puzzling. I don't know what the explanations to these mysteries are, I just know that I would like them solved. Therefore, I'm going to write a flash fiction story about each one. The stories may not solve the mystery, but at least I'm using the mysteries creatively and constructively.

Writing about a Slide Rule

I have a slide rule in its case. This was something I picked up at a yard

sale several years ago for $1.00. Originally, it was an expensive slide rule, not the most expensive, but it cost over $30.00.

I bought it on a whim, I do this sometimes when I go to yard sales. I see something, which I have absolutely no use for, but my intuition says buy. If it isn't too expensive, I'll buy it. I bought it for $1.00.

I took it too the Antique Road Show the last time they were in Las Vegas and had it appraised. It's worth about $65.00. I'd sell it for that, if I could find someone to buy it. Unfortunately, I can't find anywhere to sell it. Since I can't seem to sell it, I'll use it as a muse. I'm going to set it on my night stand and attempt to write a poem about it, when I can't sleep and don't want to get online.

I wonder what this slide rule would say it it could talk. That would make a good point of view in a poem or even a short story. I've written poems from the point of view of an inanimate object, but never a short story or piece of flash fiction.

You picked up a hitchhiker

Daily Writing Practice Prompt for Friday, August 22, 2008 is "You picked up a hitchhiker."

Working Title: Halloween on the Extraterrestrial Highway

It is October 31, 2008, and you are driving along State Route 375 in Nevada. You have just passed Area 51 and are headed toward the Little A'Le'Inn. It is about midnight and this two lane highway is unusually dark. The only lights you see are the reflection of you headlight illuminating the road ahead and part of the shoulder. You are getting sleepy, but the Inn is only about two or three miles ahead, so you decided to continue driving rather then pulling off to the side of the road and taking a short nap.

As you speed down the highway, your headlights reveal a woman standing on the shoulder of the road. She is wearing a dress from the early 1800s and is standing beside a late model convertible. You stop your car, back up so that she is standing next to the door on the passenger and roll down the window.

"Did you run out of gas or break down, Miss?"

"I... I am not sure," her brow wrinkles and she is trembling. "Where am I?"

"Your in Nevada, about three miles for the Little A'Le'Inn," you give her a reassuring smile.

"Nevada," she begins to cry.

"Get in," you say as you unlock the door."

"How?"

Your brow wrinkles, but instead of driving off, you get out of the car and walk around to the passenger side. You open the door and once she is in the car, you help her fasten her seat belt.

"Going to a Halloween party, Miss," you say as you close the driver's side door and buckle your own seat belt.

"Halloween party?"

"Yes, you know, a costume party!"

Rewriting my Flash Fiction stories

Istijlál (Majesty), 7 Baha (Splendor), 165 B.E. – Thursday, March 27, 2008 about 4:46 PM PDT

I am in the process of rewriting some of my flash fiction stories. Because of the research, I found out there is two different types of flash fiction. Those are Flash Fiction and Micro-Fiction. Flash fiction itself is somewhere between 500 and 1,000 words, while micro-fiction stories are between 50 and 300 words. Unknown to me, until now, I am writing both types of fiction.

I knew I was writing flash fiction, but until I started researching it, I did not know there were two different types. I think what I will do is review the different website I have found while doing online research. I still have to refine my search technique because I am getting too many sites that have nothing to do with what I am looking for.

The Elm Tree

The wind howled shaking the windows and pounding on the enclosed patio's tin roof. The cold late winter the wind is all anyone could hear. Every creature in the house shivered and huddled beneath layers of blanket, but that did not keep out the cold. The street lights shook and trembled in the 50 mph gust.

The neighbors dogs howled and their cat moaned. Cloths left on the line outside blew off and sailed away. In the final moments of the mighty wind, the elm tree, which had withstood other Las Vegas windstorms, crashed to the ground its upper branches catching on the cable that powered the streetlight. The tree lay on the ground blocking the sidewalk until the city came the next day and removed the branches that lay across the walk. The remaining trunk and limbs now lay in the front yard, waiting for someone to cut up for firewood.

Fiction Friday: The Stranger and the City

Istiqlal (Independence), 2 Mulk (Dominion), 164 B.E. - Friday, February 8, 2008 about 4:16 PM PST

She stood on the edge of the old city, watching as the colonist removed the stones, which had made Armphor’s walls. As they removed the stones to use in their own buildings, the Earth Colonist watched her as well. Finally, after two days of watching, she approached the foreman of one of the work crews.

“Do you know what city you are destroying,” she said pointing to the city, “or do you even care?”

“We have no choice,” the foreman’s brow winkled, “our excavating equipment doesn’t work and we need shelter before the coming winter.”

“You didn’t answer my question, do you care what city you destroy?”

“Yes,” the foreman studied the stranger’s features, the woman could easily pass as the wife of any one of his own crew. “Each work crew has three artists making detailed drawing of the stones and their locations; we number the stones so that we know where they were found in the walls. If we can, we will replace the stones, in the walls. We take only what we need and no more.”

“It is good that you care, because those who built Armphor cared nothing for this planet or its past and the planet destroyed them. The stones you are taking formed the walls of an older city, higher on the mountain. When the builders of Armphor came to this planet, they destroyed the inhabitants of that city and took the stones to construct their own fortress. It did not save them from the planet’s vengeance. You and your people may be more fortunate, Earthman, but only if you respect the planet’s native inhabitants.”

“And if we don’t,” a chill ran up his spine at the look on her face.

“Then I will pray for your soul and the souls of your people, Earthman,” with those words she turned her back on the city and walked back down the mountain toward the river that flowed through the valley.

Word count = 325

Flash Fiction Friday: Shadows

Istiqlal (Independence), 7 Sultan (Sovereignty), 164 B.E. - Friday, January 25, 2008 about 9:59 AM PST

Daily Writing Practice Prompt for January 25, 2008 - Shadows

Evening's shadows cast their long fingers across the valley. The western mountains seemed particularly foreboding tonight. A shiver ran up Rena's spine as she began to ascend the pass that led into the Daughter Mountains. She remembered all the stories her mother had told her about those mountains and the ancestors who passed through them on their journey to the Valley of the Lavender Lilies.

As she climbed Sarn's Pass, the shadows seemed to gather around her like fog coming in from the inland sea that washed against the Valley's southern boarder. The shadows seemed oddly protective, as if there was something beyond them that stalked her, but needed an even deeper darkness to conceal themselves. Rena instinctively knew, that whatever stalked her would wait until full darkness to attack, but she would reach the crest of the pass before the sun had completely set.

At the crest Rena took the firewood stacked beside Sarn's Mound and build a fire. She had reached the point of now return, the grave of her ancestor who had defended the fleeing tribe as they entered the Valley of the Lavender Lilies. If she did not return to the Valley at dawn, there would be no going back because none of her kin would accept her back in their midst.

"Daughter," came her mother's voice from one of the surround caves, "it's safer within the cave. Join me in my exile."

Rena added another piece of wood to the fire. A shadow that resembled her mother stepped out of a cave and beckoned to her. Responding to the shadow would only draw it closer, so Rena took a honey cake from her pack and began to eat. She ate the cake slowly as she scanned the entrance to the other caves. Apparently only one of the caves was inhabited, but Rena was not sure what dwell in the cave. She knew only that it was not her mother.

"Please, Rena, I am Jura, your exiled half-sister, join me."

At least now, Rena thought, I know what I'm dealing with.

"No, Jura," she picked up a burning log and threw it toward the shadow, "I'll not join you. Return to your chosen exile." The shadow of her half-sister fled into the cave.