A quote from my upcoming novel:
“Wendy always dresses so old for her age,” thought Miles, “even when we are meeting friends for drinks and dinner.”
Tag: #amediting
The Lucky One
She sensed something was wrong that last night in the Midwestern city. He was drinking too much. They almost argued and everything felt filled with anxiety. He was distant.The intensity of their passion was more than it had ever been. She was almost afraid he was going to hurt her. He came close but bailed out at the last moment.
The next morning, she knew something was wrong. He handed her his prize baseball cap, commenting it had his DNA in it. He looked at her like he was trying to remember and forget, all at the same time. When they got to the airport, she turned around and he had vanished.
In the few days that were left, he sent messages to her that talked about trust. Over and over, he spoke of trust and long-term commitment. She believed him still. She had known him so long, but they had never connected on such a deep level before. She could relax about their relationship. He said it was for the long haul.
Then she got the note. The note using their special love words, supposedly from her, the other one. Telling her that he had come home, that it was over. He sent her one note, telling her the same thing. She believed that for weeks. He tried to be cruel. He sent her a message, ostensibly from the other one, telling her he forgave her. For what? Then she received several emails. They were supposed to be from the other one, but they weren’t. He gave himself away by using the first personal pronoun and two initials he always used to refer to himself.
It all fell into place. He had broken off the relationship himself and blamed the other one. He had been as cruel as possible while preaching words of love and commitment and trust.
She looked in the water. He wasn’t worth anything. Not her tears, not her heartache. She was the lucky one. Now if she could only make herself believe it.
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Chasing the Killer
“We have sightings of him in Red River Gorge, Captain,” Rain said. She was a patrol officer on the Lexington Police Force.
“Get a team together and get out there. Find out where in the Gorge,” the Captain responded. “You need the dogs.”
Red River Gorge is a huge wilderness area near Lexington, Kentucky. Leroy Michaels, a convicted murderer, had escaped from jail. They had reason to believe he was trying to hide by losing himself in the Gorge. His wife, who he had tried to kill, lived near by. The police had items of his clothing to give to the dogs.
The police team and the canine team all met at Slade, an entry point to the Gorge. They gave the clothing to the dogs and they got the scent. Everyone started out following the dogs who headed into one of the mosts rugged parts of the Gorge.
They heard a scream and saw a flash of orange. Leroy Michaels had fallen 60 feet from one of the many ledges in the Gorge.
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The Rainy Day
She had spent little time at the ocean in her life. Now she had the chance to spend some time at the water. Any ocean, all oceans, renewed her. More than renewed her, sustained her. Today it was raining, the beginning of monsoon season. There had been a terrible drought all winter. They were all glad to see the rains come, as long as the wind didn’t follow. She started to stay home, to spend the day writing. She wanted to see the bay in the rain.
She grabbed her poncho and jumped in the car. The pier was about 12 miles away. That was the best place to see the bay. When she pulled up to the pier, no one was there but her. The rain was softly falling. She walked out almost to the gates beyond which only the fishermen went and sat down on the edge. The water was almost perfectly clear. The rain beat on the surface of the water.
She could clearly see the schools of fish. Most of them she still couldn’t identify. She knew the sheepshead. She saw a school of snook. One of her goals for the winter was to learn more about the fish in the area. That area under the pier was shallow. There was a great flapping of wings and a swoosh behind her. One of the large white egrets had landed on the pier and a great blue heron was a couple of dozen feet away.
The sky was as gray as granite and the bay was just barely whitecapping as she looked on out. Her heart rate slowed and the tightness in her chest loosened. She was at peace.
An hour or so later, she started for home, feeling better. She was always so tense until she saw the ocean. She hoped she could capture her feelings on paper. When she got home, she sat down with a steaming cup of tea and started to write. She had been trying to write a scene before she left, but it had escaped her. Now it flowed easily from her fingertips. The ocean never failed her.
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Distant
When I saw today’s writing prompt, something instantly popped into my head. A term. That term was “extended families.” It makes me sad that extended families are, in today’s time, distant from each other. If I look at my own family, and the families of many of my friends (but not all), there is geographic distance, but there is also emotional distance. This is true, at least in the United States.
Geographic distance will cause emotional distance but does it really have to be that way? My answer is no. With the electronic communication tools we have at our disposal and cell phones with unlimited talk and text, can’t we find a way to keep up with the lives of our aunts, uncles, and cousins? I say we can.
Cousins may not be able to play with each other every weekend like they could when I was growing up, but cousins can still keep in touch. Sisters may not be able to see each other often, but they can talk and message and text.
What do we have except our families and that includes our extended family? Let’s shrink the distance.
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Imaginary
If you are a writer of fiction, you have to have a good imagination. You have to be able to create imaginary characters, stories, settings. Fiction is a work of good imagination.
Children have the most wonderful imaginations. They let their imaginations run wild and free and create whole worlds in which to play. As adults, we have become accustomed to reining in our imaginations. We have to be an adult, act like an adult, and use our imaginations only in controlled circumstances, like writing fiction. We can’t live in fantasy worlds lest we hurt other people.
When a writer embarks on a work of fiction, it is a difficult transition to make. They are suddenly allowed to let their imagination, at least as it relates to the story they are writing, run wild and free like a child’s imagination. It has to be a bit more controlled in order to tell their story.
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#SoCS – 06/03/2017
Donald Trump, Weather, Climate
It seems coincidental to me, Linda, that today’s #SoCS prompt is weather. Why? Two reasons. This week, our President decided to withdraw the U.S. from the Paris Climate Agreement. The second reason is that hurricane season in the U.S. started June 1, 2017 and runs through November 30, 2017. Mr. Trump has appointed no new director of either FEMA or NOAA, the two agencies that deal with disasters such as hurricanes and that forecast and track hurricanes. Perhaps this is an oversight. The people that a hurricane will affect who live on the Atlantic Seaboard, the Gulf Coast, and every part of Florida will suffer due to such an oversight.
The Paris Climate Agreement. Mr. Trump apparently does not understand the Paris Climate Agreement. If he does understand it, then his withdrawal of the U.S. from it is particularly hateful. He seems to think that polluting the environment of the U.S. will lead to job creation when all it will lead to is more pollution and the continued killing of our planet. The U.S. is well on its way to reducing the use of fossil fuels, like coal, and reducing the greenhouse gases we emit. Mr. Trump is trying to set us back 50 years. Instead of supporting the efforts to develop wind farms and solar farms, for example, he wants to go back to mining coal. Coal miners can and would be trained to work in the clean energy industries. One such industry has already relocated to an area where coal was previously mined. Many of our 50 states vehemently disagree with him and are going to follow the Paris agreement on their own. Many large corporations are going to do the same.
Why is all this happening? Mr. Trump is feeling desperate. With low ratings, he is trying to do something that, during the campaign, he told his base he would do. He told them he would drop environmental regulations in the name of job creation so that’s what he is doing. He has found government too complicated to do much of anything else. So he is pursuing his nationalist agenda by turning his back on the environment. It particularly pleased him because he could turn his back on Europe at the same time since he desires to be an isolationist. In just the short time Mr. Trump has been President, we have lost our position as leader of the free world and either China or a European country will assume that position.
Whether or not our President can or will pursue an agenda that appeals to more than 38 percent of the American people is still a mystery. From what we’ve seen so far, his priorities lie somewhere besides where the priorities of the majority of the American people lie.
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Peace in the Country
She couldn’t wait to get dressed and go for her run. She didn’t run in the city where she lived. She ran in the country. Her run every day kept her emotionally healthy. She needed it now more than ever.
It was a short drive and in 15 minutes, she was there. She parked her car and ran to the dirt road that was her track. It felt so good to be here. The road was two and one-half miles, so she ran five miles total.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps near her. She looked around and there was Murphy, her German Shepherd. But, Murphy had died a year ago. It seemed to be a pale copy of him running along beside her. There were footsteps on her right. It was her dad who had died five years ago. It was also a pale copy of him. He smiled at her. She felt great peace.
The three of them kept running. She knew they were there to help her. Her mother had died one week ago. She felt they were there to tell her everything was all right. When they got to the end of the road, they disappeared.
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One Liner Wednesday
A line from my upcoming novel:
Miles planned to have some very hot fun with Abby, then end their relationship in a way she’d never forget.
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The Children of Birch Branch
“Come look,” Maxine called to her cousins. “Look what I’ve found.”
Maxine and five of her cousins were at their homeplace on Birch Branch. They had been given a day by the attorney to come get whatever belonged to their family. Maxine was cleaning out the shed and found these ancient toys.
Kevin said, “I feel like we’re looking at our parents’ lives. I guess in some ways we are looking at their childhood here.”
The cousins finished up with a last look at the house and the property on Birch Branch. They knew they would never be back again.
The Write Scribe 