I love books that come in sets of three or more. I need suggestions. PLEASE!!!!!
I don’t like to be all dark and dreary. Today was even a really nice day. My youngest daughter turned eleven. Still, for some reason… Something flipped on my Edgar Allen Poe switch. So here is a list of things … Continue reading
Elizabeth opened the door, prepared to count the twenty-seven steps that led her toward her one bedroom apartment, when she heard a dog bark and felt something hard and small jam into her back.
“Take the steps slowly, like you always do, Elizabeth.”
She didn’t recognize the voice and when she moved to turn her head to the side, it pushed harder into her and she heard a gun cock. Somewhere in the near distance she heard a man whistling and she wanted to scream for help.
“Think twice and you’ll see your instincts will get you killed.”
“What do you want from me?” She felt a hand on her shoulder, urging her onward. Her feet, glued to the rubber mat, refused to move. “I have some money in my bag. Take it.”
The whistling faded away and the man behind her sounded as if he was grinning. “I told you what I want. Now, go on. Count your steps.”
She didn’t know how he knew her habit but if he knew that much about her… “Who are you?” The gun left her back and she winced as the assailant twisted her arm behind her back. She was shoved into the entryway of the apartment and she heard the door close and the lock turned. As she looked up the first twelve steps Elizabeth realized her arm was free. She turned and swung wildly at the man. Hands pushed against her and she fell against the first three stairs. She was down low now and she used her legs and began kicking at the stranger. She didn’t care that he had a gun; knew that if he got her all the way upstairs he would likely kill her anyway.
“Elizabeth? Is that you? I used your spare key and let myself in. I hope you don’t…”
Hearing her sister’s voice, Elizabeth was about to yell up to Samantha, but as she began to call out, the gun was shoved into her mouth. It startled her so much that she felt herself lose a little of her bladder. Footsteps were descending above her and a dam of tears broke and her body began shaking.
“Oh my god!”
Elizabeth couldn’t see her sister; she didn’t dare move. Instead, she continued staring at the man in front of her, pleading with her eyes.
“Samantha. I wasn’t expecting you.” The man spoke calmly. “Why don’t you come down here so we can talk?” He smiled at Elizabeth. “You wouldn’t want to make things any worse for your sister, now, would you?”
Samantha, crying pitifully, walked the rest of the stairs down before stopping five feet away. “Please don’t kill her.”
Elizabeth watched the man move his empty hand to his blue jean jacket pocket and pull out a syringe. He held it out above her head.
“Samantha, I want you to carefully step down and take this out of my hand. Then I want you to inject it into your arm.”
Elizabeth shook her head, felt the gun move with her mouth. She tried to tell her sister not to do it.
“It won’t kill you. I promise. It will just make you really sleepy. I’d urge you to run upstairs pretty fast, otherwise, you’ll fall and I don’t want to see you hurt yourself.”
Samantha was moving her head left and right.
“Yes. Or it will be all your fault when Elizabeth’s head gets blown to pieces.” His hand stretched out closer to her. “Now, be a good girl, and take your medicine.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and listened to her sister step slowly closer.
“You promise it won’t kill me? You won’t kill her?” She asked, whimpering now.
The man didn’t reply.
Elizabeth opened her eyes when she heard her sister running back up the stairs and then heard glass fall and shatter.
“I guess she didn’t make it all the way up.” The man looked at Elizabeth. “She’ll be out for hours, but she won’t die.” He pulled the gun out of her mouth, stepped half a step back. He watched as she wiped saliva away from the corner of her mouth. “Go.” He motioned upwards with the gun.
She turned around, put her hand on the wood railing, and stepped cautiously, one at a time, counting in her mind, and reminded herself to breath. She stopped when she reached her sister, who had fallen in the hallway just before turning down another hallway that led to her living room and kitchen. She was about to turn around when she felt a pinch on her neck. Icy fluid seeped into her body and she finally did turn around.
“One. Two.” The man counted slowly. “Three. Four.”
Elizabeth’s legs grew heavy and her head woozy. She saw the man putting his gun away, saw herself falling into his arms, and then blackness took over her world as he reached five.
Where am I as a writer? That’s a good question. Sometimes I actually wonder if I can even call myself a writer. There are even times where I feel like I could truly put it all aside and quit writing entirely. Of course, that is a preposterous idea, but still it is one I oftentimes entertain. I am fortunate to have some incredible friends that I can go to and whine and complain to. They sit by, nod and smile…knowing I’ll never give it up. I may put my creative activities to the side for a time; sometimes even a long time, but I doubt I’ll ever be able to give up writing completely. It’s ingrained within me. My brain never shuts off. Creatures and characters, scenes, and subplots are always going on somewhere in the deep darkness that is my mind.
Today I did something that made me feel like I was moving towards the action side of writing. I printed out three of my four novels. My printer cried and bellowed in pain as I did this. I printed them because all three of these novels are complete from beginning to end. All they need is editing. I may say that demonized word ‘editing’ as something lightly done, however I know for a fact that it is not something done lightly. Not in the very least.
For too long now I have allowed myself to cower in the corner, let dust build up on my desk, and look away from these novels that cry out to me for attention. I’m tired of living like this. It is more exhausting to not work on the editing than it is to get it done. It’s mentally excruciating to ignore my babies. More than that, it is too entirely depressing. So I’m going to quit living like this. I have to. For my own sanity, I need to get back to work. Not to just call myself a writer though, but to find peace within myself. For your entertainment…my three novels are pictured here…I can hear cheers and jubilant cries from my characters. And it pleases my soul.
Taking the bull by the horn and deciding to dive into the grueling activity of writing a novel, there are a number of things the author must decide. Characters, plotline, to use magic or not, how much research is needed, and so so much more. Today, as I work to edit a previously written novel, I embraced, for the first time in my life, a new decision to make. Do I want to use chapters? Like…Chapter 1, chapter 34, chapter 799. (just kidding)
I’ve read a myriad of novels that broke portions of the book in a number of ways. I’ve read books, recently, where instead of using chapters, the author just wrote the character’s name whose POV was for that portion.
So I’m taking an active approach and asking you, my favorite people: Does it matter whether the book has chapters or names to divide sections? Does it even need chapters? What other suggestions might you have to offer?
So, Camp NaNoWriMo is about to begin. As if starting a new job, moving to a new city, and having to change and embrace just about everything going on, I’m about to embark on a new writing project. Yowza!!!
I know. I’m crazy. I can’t help myself, though. I just sat down, during my first period class, and discovered this story sitting within the walls of my mind.
So here is the idea I’m playing with. It’s called What the Hand Draws Continue reading
I had to take an hour’s leave from work today so I could go get fingerprinted. I just received an email letting me know I am qualified. One of the definitions of qualified is: officially recognized as being trained to perform … Continue reading
This afternoon I had to go pick up some pre-employment paperwork. Then I headed home to drop off my ten year old daughter before heading over to get my drug test done. I just passed the railroad tracks and was sitting in line, waiting for the stoplight to turn green, when out of nowhere, I’m thrown forward! Someone had rear-ended me. Fortunately, both me and my daughter as well as the other two people in the Lexus behind me were okay. The other party was apologizing to me and looked really bummed. My daughter and I were pretty shaken up.
Since they were sitting right on the railroad tracks, I suggested we pull into a parking lot. I called 911 and waited for the police officer to arrive. We swapped insurance, the officer took my statement, then handed it back to me. Everyone went their own ways. I asked my daughter if she was okay. She was a bit shaken up still, as was I. Continue reading
I don’t know whether it is because I’ve grown so busy with life (teaching/lesson plans/ect) or whether I got lazy or whether I fell out of writing or what…
but I really do want to be socially active. When I had my blog Bitemybook I did a lot of blogging. I reviewed books, I wrote interesting articles, and I was definitely active. So much that I wanted to revive the site, and I did (for a brief minute.) I just found that wordpress gets so much more action and more people are able to see me on my drowninginwords site. So I stuck with what worked. It was different because I had some awesome people helping with my previous blog and this one is solely mine.
Anyway, I’m rambling. I do that sometimes. LOL
The purpose of this is to let you, my loyal followers and visitors, know that I intend to bring you more.
More of my life experience. More of my thoughts. More of my creativity. More of my writing. Essentially…more of me. You’re Welcome. ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤
TO BE CREATIVE AND ARTSY~~ Last Christmas I really wanted to give my husband something homemade. So in June (I think) I purchased a paint-by-number piece with good intentions of completing it and wrapping it up. I think it’s still … Continue reading