Twists and Turns

      I love twists and turns. I love roller coasters. I love Palahniuk's novels, and I love books by Sandra Dallas and Jodi Picoult because of the twisted plots they create.

      Recently, Lisa Ricard Claro shared her super-short (under 150 words in length) prize-winning story. Not only did she win the competition in her category, she snagged a Pushcart Prize nomination. (Sioux said, after pushing her jaw closed again.)

       If you want to read a awe-inspiring story, go check out Lisa's post. It will definitely make you gnash your teeth, wishing you had written it. And leave Lisa a note. She'd love to hear from you.

       For the more visual learner, I have a five minute film for your viewing pleasure. My writing friend Julie sent it to me. I love Hitchcock, and it has some Hitchcockian touches...along with a major twist. (I promise you you will enjoy it.)

Book Blurb Friday # 21...Ooops, It's Sunday!

Every week, Lisa Ricard Claro does it. She gives us a nudge. A prod. A poke.

Write, she urges.

Every week, she provides a photo (this one is brilliant--ha!), she writes a book blurb herself, and invites everyone to link theirs to the group of blurbs, via the handsome Mr. Linky. To see all the book blurbs this week, go to Lisa's blog: Writing in the Buff .

Believe it or not, there have been a couple of blurbs I've written that I'm interested in expanding. Last year I crashed and burned with my first attempt at NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month--in November). Perhaps the second time will be a charm?

Anyway, writing a book cover "blurb" helps us hone our writing abilities. The blurb has to be 150 words or less, and it has to entice the reader enough to buy the book (which sadly, will not be at a Borders bookstore).  Below, you will find the absolutely breath-takingly awesome photo (again, ha!) and my blurb.

photo by moi

A Heart of Stone



The two of them used to walk the grounds of the cemetery. The lovely hills. The quiet. The privacy.

But then he left her for someone else. And somehow, Maggie couldn’t stay away from the rolling green waves of the cemetery.

One day, Maggie became part of it. She stood there, gazing at the tombstones and the towering granite crosses that surrounded her. The autumn leaves had cascaded down, creating a vibrantly-colored carpet for her. Suddenly, she was frozen in place, unable to move, a single tear suspended on her cheek.

And that was how she has been for the last forty-three years…

Many visitors stop and admire the size and the artistry of the “marker,” and yet everyone is clueless.

What will it take to breathe life back into Maggie? What will make her granite heart beat once again?

(145 words)

Magpie Tale #74

         Every week Tess Kincaid hosts Magpie Tales. She provides the photo, we provide the creativity in the form of a vignette or poem. This is the 74th Magpie.  Being consistent for more than a year is awe-inspiring. There are probably weeks that Tess would like to devote her time to something else. Replying to the Magpies is a large investment of time; every week Tess lures in dozens and dozens and dozens of writers. And yet she continues to cast her line out and we take the bait...oh, so eagerly.

        Thanks, Tess. And below is my Magpie.

      
      a map of africa
      or a mask

      it makes no difference

      the dark continent
      should stay there
      in-the-dark-and-out-of-our-thoughts

      egypt
      and all its rich history?
      it's in africa?
      i don't think so

      the cradle of civilization
      is in africa?
      surely you jest

      all that apartheid stuff
      and those mass killings
      and the boys 
      who get stolen into soldierhood
     
      it's so far away...
      does it really affect us?


And finally...Lisa Ricard Claro is hosting a contest to celebrate luring in her 200th follower. There will be more than one winner. If you don't already follow Lisa and her blog, it's well worth the meandering over. She's offering copies of a Chicken Soup book with beautiful Golden puppies on the front. Be sure to follow (if you're not already) and enter...

For all the details about the contest, go here.  

Book Blurb Friday # 19

      
         Yes, it's Friday again. Time to write a blurb for a no chance for this one potential best-seller. The photo this week is supplied by Becky Povich. The multi-talented Lisa Ricard Claro hosts this meme every week on her blog.

         Your book can be any genre, but it must must be 150 words or less. I was going to blog about something else today, but decided I could double-dip and write a book about the "adventure" I originally planned on writing about.

         After you write a blurb, link it to Lisa's blog, read the other blurbs and allow yourself the luxury of wallowing in everyone else's creativity.

        And without further beating around the bush ado, here is Becky's photo and my shot at stardom!

White-Knuckle Writing

by Cassie "Pro" Crastinator

       It was the last day of June. The evening sun, filtering through the blinds, reminded her that midnight wasn’t a threat, it was a promise.

     
       Two Chicken Soup for the Soul anthologies had a call for submissions; their deadlines were June 30. Cassie had planned on submitting a second story for the Christmas collection to follow up her earlier memoir that was already sent off. ‘Increase the submissions means an increased chance of publication,’ she thought, with a touch of hysteria. Not having an idea for the Here Comes the Bride book until the last minute, she now had two story ideas.


      Could Cassie finish the Christmas story that was already half-finished and get it submitted in time? Would she be able to begin and finish two wedding stories before the bell tolled twelve?


     White-Knuckle Writing will make you screech and sweat right along with Cassie. (147 words not including the “reviews”)


……………………………………………………................................................................................

The Reviews of White Knuckle Writing:


“A cautionary tale. These pages paralyzed me.” Dr. Wright A. Head


“Cassie’s philosophy should be everyone’s mantra: More submissions = more publications. After all, I average 13 stories in every Chicken Soup anthology and that only happens because I submit like crazy!” Linda O’Chicken Soup


“Writing is a breeze when you have bottled-up spirits as your lackeys. Have Cassie call me.” Fireblossom


Princess Procrastinator's Note:  No, I did not get three stories submitted last night but by 11:45 I had submitted two to two different anthologies.  



Book Blurb Friday # 5

photo by Joey Claro

           Thanks to Lisa Ricard Claro, with her blog meme "Book Blurb Friday."

           Every Friday (actually, the early birds can get the photo the week before, and let their ideas gel) a picture is posted. Sometimes it's a photo snapped by one of her "children."  (Lisa has not ever given birth, and is really in her 30's, but she likes to portray an older, more experienced writer, so she rents children and passes them off as her own.  A "daughter" has posted a couple of these photos. Maybe the warranty on that one ran out, so now she's utilizing a different rental unit?)

          Go to her BBF button to get all the details---a blurb of 150 words or less, and then link it to Lisa's blog, along with commenting on everyone's burb. 

         Here is my offering (a bit lame):

Unrequited Forever

         They knew they did not belong together, that in the end, their hearts would be broken. Yet, they could not resist the almost-magnetic pull towards each other.

          In this earth-shattering true ground-breaking story, biologist I.M. Compost has uncovered the filthy details in his true grime story; he leafs nothing out!

        Once the seed of love Crimson felt for Pin Oak was planted, they clung to each other and were inseparable.  Pin Oak's handsome, sturdy trunk as well as his willingness to branch out was appealing... Crimson stayed unwaveringly true to her roots.

         "Her bloom never faded," said Pin Oak almost woodenly, attempting to hide his anguish... 

         Experience the same raking pain as Crimson, the pain Pin must endure as he remains rooted in place and unable to reach out.

(Note:  Some parts of this story are quite dirty.)  141 words 

It's Book Blurb Friday #4!

         Yes, it's just hours away from Friday.  That means it's time to write the blurb for our soon-to-be-written novel, so the publishers can get into a bidding war because the blurb is so darned intriguing.

         How does it work? Lisa Ricard Claro gives us a photo every week.  (But don't think she is a marvelous person for doing this. She rents her kids--and passes them off as her own--so it's the "rentals" who are doing the real grunt work on this meme...) We write a blurb (a hook that is 150 words or less in length) and post it on our own blog along with linking it on Lisa's blog. (And then you can read other blurbs and see what they did with the photo.)

         Here is the photo, and my blurb follows:

The Babcock's B & B and the Case of the Calloway Cougar

         Yes, the carpeting's worn. And yes, sometimes the beloved Mr. Puss can be found on the diningroom table, licking from the butter tray. But the Babcocks are lovely people, living out their twilight years in quaint Calloway as they eek out a living with their bed and breakfast business.

        And business is good. Until Mrs. Babcock is accused of making improper advances. Reportedly, Mrs. Babcock offered a bran muffin to a male guest as she unbuttoned her duster, rubbed Vick's on herself as she simultaneously licked her lips, and dislodged her dentures in a "lacivious" manner. 

        Will the Babcocks be able to weather the trial?  Will their business go under?  Or will Mrs. Babcock have to take pole-dancing lessons so she can put her libido to work in a lucrative way?

        (Proceeds from book sales goes to "Support Hose," the fund set up for Mrs. Babcock's legal fees.)

(149 words--whew!)    

It's Book Blurb Friday! Yahoo!

        A blogging friend of mine---Lisa Ricard Claro---has launched a new meme.  (I have no idea how to pronounce that, or what it means. Hopefully no one will ask me...) 

         Every Friday (actually, late on Thursday) she will post a photo. It is your mission---if you choose to accept it---to write a blurb that would appear on the book cover, so that readers are enticed enough to purchase the book.

       Unfortunately, when I tried to (repeatedly) save the photo (it's an interesting shot of some trees, shot by Christina Claro), I got some weird message: "server rejected," if I remember correctly.

        Check out Lisa's blog.  Come up with a blurb of your own.  Don't be afraid. Stick your toes in. The water's warm and just right...

       And without further fanfare (because the story is not trumpet-worthy), here is my blurb:


The Whisper in the Trees

         When Annie returned with rusty-red stains on her shirt, no one was suspicious. After all, it was raspberry season...

        But when her grandson Manuel was still missing four days later, suspicions swirled.  Annie was the last one to see the toddler alive.  Could she have done something to him? Impossible!

         Or was it... 

          At the end of the fourth day of searches, Annie confessed. She would take the authorities to where Manuel lay, his head crushed...on the condition that her estranged husband came along. He needed to see the horror that was on his shoulders.

          Because, according to Annie, every time she hit Manuel with the rock, it was a blow meant for Duffy. It was a pay-back for his abandonment. For his cheating. For all the lies he told.

           Unfortunately, the trees had not become silenced.  They were still whispering...still clamoring.

          But for what? (149 words)

               

Name the Pig

       Lisa, well known for her marvelous blog, suggested I name my magical pig.  Certainly this stout, handsome pig deserves a name but sadly, it had not entered my mind.

A pig with no name is a pig with the blues...
photo by Netream

       She offered the name "Ernest" after Hemingway.  It looks like it might be earnest as well as answer to Ernest.  However, I don't want to overlook other possibilities...

        Please check out the photos on my blog yesterday (12/21) and if a name comes to you, like in a dream, please send it my way.  After all, a pig with a much power as this porker has, deserves an appropriate name.

Foley: A Guest Blogger

             My mom is swamped this weekend.  She is working on finishing report cards, and today, she has a board meeting for Love a Golden. (Love a Golden is the dog rescue group that saved me.  Before I was rescued, I was running the fields, I had to find my own food, and I was scared to death of storms but I had nowhere to feel safe---I spent all my days and nights outside.)

             Since Mom is so busy, she asked me if I would write a post today.  (It's slow going, because my paws are so big, so sometimes they hit several keys at once, and I have to erase and begin again.)  My day is usually spent napping on the couch in between sessions of playing fetch, so I figured, I have the time...

This is a photo of me as I contemplate where I will take my next nap...
In the hall?  On the futon? By the door?  So many decisions...

                 I admit, I have an easy life.  I get fed two meals every day and even though I eat the same thing every day, I don't complain.  It's pretty tasty stuff!  During the sweltering summer months, I suck up the air conditioning right along with Annie, the senior citizen I live with, and my mom and dad. When the snow piles up, no worries.  I can go outside and play in the drifts if I choose, but otherwise, I curl up on the couch where it's cozy and warm.



This is Annie. (I figured I might as well include a picture of her,
since she was nice enough--two years ago---to agree and share her home with me.)
Her eyes are really cloudy.  Mom and Dad say that she has something that sounds like "cadillacs..."

                 There's only one bad thing about living here:  the squirrels are quite wily.  They scamper around the yard in the early morning, and when they hear the back door open, they race for the trees and the fence. As fast as I run, I can never catch one.  Before I was rescued, I had to catch squirrels and rabbits for my meals.  It's been a long time since I've had a snack with four legs...



                                       

This is a picture of Love a Golden's booth at a dog rescue event.  Humans bake dog treats and spend their free time selling things so there is money to rescue more dogs.  Look them up at http://www.loveagolden.com/. (That's our president. She doesn't get any money for all the work she does, just like all the other unpaid "workers." I give them a rating of "four paws out of four.")

               
             I only do one thing that makes my family look at me in mean ways.  I love to chew. Sofa pillows. Shoes. (Only my mom's shoes. My dad says his are too stinky, too smelly to even tempt a dog!) Any paper within my reach.  Bags of bread. (I not only eat the bread, but I tear and rip the plastic wrapper until bits of it are strewn all over the floor.)  Now the house looks a little different.  All the pillows are put away, the bedroom doors are closed while us two dogs are alone during the day, and Mom does a final "security check" before she leaves in the morning. Shoes? Put away, check. Bread on top of the microwave or way back up against the wall on the table? Check.  Doors closed so they "click" shut? Check.  Any mail or papers or magazines or books set up out of reach? Check.

               I know what you're going to say.  I've tried.  I've tried to blame Annie on the mischief I make. (Hey, before you look aghast, she's deaf, so she wouldn't be able to hear Mom and Dad admonish her and she's also forgetful, so her shame would pass in an instant...)  The two-leggers are not buying my scam. They know that nothing ever got chewed up before I came along, so I can never escape the well-deserved reputation of being the Chewinator.

This is one of my "pin up" photos.  The girl dogs love me in this tantalizing pose,
but I have no interest in them.  (The vet made sure of that when I got rescued.)
At my side is one of my two favorite things. This one is "red ball." My other
favorite thing is "purple ball." I used to also have "disgusto ball" but my dad threw it too hard,
and it went into the neighbor's yard and since it looks like a jungle back there, no more "disgusto ball..."

                I suppose this is a long enough post. I hope my mom is happy with it.  She had this idea when one of her blogging friends Lisa Ricard Claro had her two grand-cats write a post!  Yuck! Cats!  They make me even more crazy than squirrels!