Once upon a time, there was a lovely princess who lived alone, high on the cliffs of a mountain, within the crumbling walls of an ancient castle. The castle hadn’t always been dilapidated. Once it had been a magnificent kingdom full of vivid flora and enchanted fauna who could speak to the inhabitants of the kingdom. But a scorned and hateful sorcerer had cursed the princess’s mother and grandmother, and all of the mothers before them because one vain ancestor had dismissed the sorcerer’s love and proposal, choosing instead to marry a prince just as arrogant as she. From that day on, any daughter born to their line would be cursed, killing instantly anyone or anything she touched. Over the centuries, the townspeople of the kingdom fled for their lives, fearful of their once peaceful home until none remained. When the new king died following his marriage to the cursed queen and she gave birth to the princess in solitary in the forsaken place, she abandoned the child to the decaying castle. The queen wrapped the princess in an old scarf, and pressed a kiss to the child’s brow. Tears dripped from the queen’s face, sprouting blackened and ashen colored flowers where they fell. Continue reading “The Bold Princess”
As she sat at a patio table covered by the brown awning, sipping her steaming café au lait, she watched the people beneath their dripping umbrellas as they strolled leisurely past the cafe . That was one thing she found she enjoyed, the easy and relaxed manner in which people traveled here. Gone was the hustle and bustle of her former life, the bumping into strangers without apology, the feeling of loneliness without ever being truly alone. She lifted the mug that warmed her hands to her lips, blew across the foamed top and took another sip. She smiled to herself as she felt the creamed mustache left upon her upper lip. Dabbing her lip with her napkin, she set it down beside her plate and let out a sigh that caught on a gust of wind and sprinkled her slightly with rain drops.
She was thirty-eight and alone for the first time in nearly twenty-five years. Continue reading “New Life, New Love at a Parisian Cafe”
July marks the sixth month anniversary of my Write Chain Challenge that I set for myself in December. My challenge for myself was to write 200 words every day. Each day that you write, you add a “link” (proverbial or real, it’s up to you) to your chain. If you don’t write, your chain breaks and you have to start again. I can’t count how many times I heard from someone “just skip it and write extra the next day!” or “write double today so you can skip tomorrow!” but I refused to bend my principles on this. And I can proudly say that I’ve written at least 200 (sometimes more!) a day since December 1st. And in that time, I’ve added over 70,000 words to my WIP. By no means does this mean my manuscript is done. No, this was just the push I needed to complete my first draft. Believe me, there are still a lot of rough spots. Literally, the whole last fourth of the book needs so much work! But there are also a lot of really compelling and thought-provoking passages. At least, I hope they will be to the reader because they are to me! But in these past six months, I’ve learned some very valuable lessons in writing. Continue reading “Write Chain Challenge: 6 Month Anniversary!”
A Note from the Past…
Playing in the hallway one day, your kids accidentally bump into your grandfather clock, which has been in the family for years. As it smashes into the ground, you find a note hidden inside from your great grandfather, who died two months after you were born. Strangely enough, the note is addressed to you….
As the sound of the crash echoed throughout the quietness of the house, my stomach knotted with fear. I rushed down the hallway to discover my boys standing silently beside the wreckage of what had been my family heirloom: a grandfather clock. My knees went weak at the sight of the splinters of wood and the cracked clock face and I crumpled to the floor. Continue reading “A Note from the Past…”
The drive west was taking longer than she expected. Hours had passed since she had first mentally-checked her luggage while filling the gas tank of her car in the early morning light, before she flipped on the blinker and pulled out onto the open highway. The landscape, so flat and dull passed by in a blur of endless miles. It seemed that she would never reach her destination. Continue reading “Westward, Ho!”
I am the scarlet whisper of a kiss.
I am the soft petal of budding springtime peony.
Yet like the sharp flint of a brilliant diamond I am also hard. Continue reading “Pink”
It happened suddenly and all at once. The stab and the thud of the first painful heartbeat. The tingling of her extremities as blood warmed and coursed through her veins. Flowed like the very river where she had lain, frozen, white and cold, her only blanket the golden and crisp fallen leaves of the season past. They clung desperately to her chilled skin, releasing only as the rash of goose flesh raced from her head to her toes. She wiggled them, one by one, until the stinging faded. Continue reading “Spring Awakening”
For the past month, I’ve been experiencing the horrors of The Civil War. From reading to researching to writing, it’s been a constant on my mind. And, what I thought would be a brief section of manuscript to write, has developed into something I never expected. Continue reading “Bravery vs Cowardice”
Last week was filled with Christmas shopping, errands, life, and best of all: family celebrations. Even still, I managed to accomplish my 200 words a day minimum challenge and that feels so wonderful. I’m so thankful to have discovered the write chain challenge. This is exactly what I needed to remain inspired and motivated to finish this first draft of my latest WIP. And this week is going to be much of the same. Last minute gifts, Christmas cards, meal planning and more celebrations planned. But writing is also scheduled each day and is equally important. Continue reading “Scars”
I’ve been dragging my heels.
It’s been a week of dual deaths and even though I know little of this character (and truthfully, I began researching him as I was writing this week) I wasn’t looking forward to killing him. From family research, I knew his basics: birth, family, marriage, children, death. I knew he had served the Union in the Civil War.
And I knew he did not survive. Continue reading “War”