The fish is perfectly formed for its watery world.
The director looked over the railing at the ponds below. The air hummed as hundreds of machines performed the many tasks required to run a facility this size.
Thirty-six ponds, each stocked with one hundred hatchlings. If things progressed according to the plan, the Board would be very pleased. Very pleased indeed. The director let himself dream of what he’d purchase with his bonus. It was his favorite way to fall asleep these days, thinking of what toy he would reward himself once they were successful. Of course, he’d already purchased many toys with his salary. But the Board had hinted his bonus would be generous for having the product ready ahead of schedule. The director pounded his fists on the railing. The Board was due any minute and he couldn’t wait to see their faces when he showed them the hatchlings’ progress. Continue reading
A few weeks ago I was desperate to get myself out of my funk. Now, don’t get me wrong, funk is good stuff musically but not when applied to writing mojo. For a writer, a funk is totally unfunky. A typical writing practice to unfunk yourself is to just write any old thing. To write and not worry about what it is. Journal, write in your diary, just plunk your hiney down and write. BIC,FOK (Butt In Chair, Fingers on Keyboard – not as fun as what it sounds when you say it aloud and quickly.)
But we all know that I’m not good at un-purposeful activities, or at least the stuff that doesn’t feel purposeful to me. (Yes, this is a failing of mine. I don’t recommend it. Life at full-scphinter lock is not as much fun as it might appear.)
So I decided I would write some little piece of fiction based on a prompt my husband would find for me out in the interwebs. I’ve no idea how these will turn out aside from the following rules: Continue reading
First off, hi there. Secondly, take a moment if you will to go read this awesome poem “Where Have You Been?” by my young friend Kate Borman. She was sweet enough to include me in a blog hoppy award gizmo, but the real prize is her poem.
Thirdly, back to me.
So I’m writing again. Well, trying to write again. And it’s going slow at best and not at all for the most part.
Lately I’ve been scratching myself a lot. Like enough to be socially awkward. I should probably figure out what’s causing this itching, but I have a pretty good idea. I’m not worried, just itchy. Back in college I would get hives between my fingers and on my wrists the week before mid-terms and finals. Every single time. Imagine how brilliant my GPA could have been without all that itching and scratching back then. Somehow, the awarding of my bachelor’s degree magically cured my itchy habit and I pretty much forgot about it.
But I appear to be back to my old itchy ways. I’m not totally sure why as there are no graduate classes filling my time, but I hazard it is the same poorly fashioned coping skill at work. If I go see my doctor, the first question will be “Are you under any stress?” And my response will be obscured by laughter. Stress? Of course I’ve got stress going on in my life. I’m a parent, spouse, part-time employee working closer to full-time these days, and writer by night. Sleep is a precious commodity in my life, just like her best friends: relaxation, me-time, and joy.
Pardon me while I scratch a bit more. Continue reading
I was thinking about how the old adage still applies: we all put on our pants one leg at a time. Regardless of what a person does in life, we are more alike than different.
In other words, all those special little snowflakes are part of a snowstorm of flakes just as special.
I’m not a fan girl type. When I’ve met celebrities, they seem like everybody else I’ve ever met. Actors, athletes, politicians, writers, doctors, lawyers, accountants, plumbers, waitresses…all folks doing a job and getting paid for it. It doesn’t really matter what a person does and how much money they make doing it; that person still puts on whatever kind of pants they wear, one leg at a time. But I will admit to being a bit gobsmacked when I first met 2 published authors.
I have gadzooks of writing to do today. Seeing as how I’m a writer among other things, this is not a surprising thing. However, in this case I’ve got gadzooks of writing to do for work as well. So yeah. There comes a time when you can’t procrastinate any longer on certain projects. This rubber needs to meet the road and in a hurry. But I also need to buy some pants.
Today is the first day of my 44th year on this planet. I’m happy to say that while I don’t have the wrinkles of someone with over four decades of life experiences, my heart is full of them! One of the best experiences I had this year was becoming one of Buddhapuss Ink’s authors because doing so allowed me to meet Mariam Kobras. It is my honor to host Mariam for my first ever blog hop to celebrate both Mariam and her newest book, Under the Same Sun. Continue reading