Psychotic Blah

The Cookie Cadets say "Gnome More Shipp"

2010-07-12T06:29:00.000-07:00

Halloween, Relationships, and Cursed Eggs...

OR I may be scrambled.

*no authors were harmed in the making of this blog post*

For those of you unfamiliar with today's guest, Jeremy C. Shipp
1.    writes Bizarro, horror, dark fantasy, and magic realism that has been recognized by authors such as Piers Anthony and Jack Ketchum.
2.    has work that has been, or will be, included in over 50 publications, including various magazines and anthologies.
3.    lives in a moderately haunted Victorian farmhouse.
4.    loves his wife, Lisa, and their legion of yard gnomes.

His books include: Vacation, Sheep and Wolves, and Cursed. He has also tossed out a little eye candy with his first short film, "Egg".

Welcome, Jeremy!

Those who have already read Cursed may recognize my list as part of the trademark writing style in that Jeremy C. Shipp story.

Jeremy, having just finished reading Cursed, I'm curious. What do the gnomes think of such an interesting bit of story?

Jeremy: My yard gnomes are big fans of the novel. Gnomes are illiterate, of course, but every Thursday, they buy a new copy from me to sacrifice to the gnomic god of burning paper.

Ah, yes, the ritualistic book burning. There is nothing like the smell of book barbecue, that is, unless it’s an on-fire author (figuratively speaking of course *wink*).

Speaking of on fire…

Though I've had the opportunity to experience a few short stories on your website, a podcast, and the tidbits you toss out in your social networking places, Cursed is the first longer work of yours I've had the chance to read. I could give a quick take on that story, but you do have other stories out there too and my pimpage just wouldn't be fair to those. So, instead, I'll ask you.

Which of your stories is your personal recommended read, and why?

Jeremy: For fans of horror, I’d recommend Sheep and Wolves. For fans of quirky characters and mystery, I’d recommend Cursed. For fans of trippy sci-fi, I’d recommend Vacation. For fans of dark fantasy, I’d recommend Fungus of the Heart.

~For fans of a unique writing style, pick your genre and then pick up the Jeremy C Shipp book best suited for you. Still unsure? Stay tuned for links to free short stories that will give you an idea of what’s in store and wet you whistle so you read more…~

Jeremy, in addition to writing, you also have a short film out called “Egg”. In prepping these questions, I sat down and watched it. I'll have to admit, I was a little lost, but that could be in part to my obsolete video capabilities on this darned laptop of mine. “Chop chop chop”, says the machine.

Since I seem to be a little out of the technological loop, can you tell my readers a little about this project, and how it came into being?

Jeremy: Director/producer Jayson Densman read one of my novels, and contacted me about working on a project together. We discussed various possibilities, and eventually we decided to create a short film together. I wrote the screenplay, and acted as a creative consultant. “Egg” is about a man’s fractured psyche, and his attempt to free himself from his traumatic past. Luckily, only one mime was killed during the making of the film.

You can watch the entire film here.

Despite my earlier observations and technical difficulties, I must say it is an entertaining film, and well worth the short time it takes to watch, even on an obsolete piece of *BEEEEEP* where the audio works oh so much better than the video.

Beyond these things already mentioned, is there anything else available out there for Jeremy C. Shipp fans?

Jeremy: I’m always publishing new short stories. Here are some free reads.

And...What else do you have in the works at this time?

Jeremy: My newest book, Fungus of the Heart, is coming out on Halloween. This is a book about relationships—the good, the bad, and the weird. I’m currently working on a new novel, some short stories, a comic book series, a screenplay, and a few other projects. In addition to all this, I’m attempting to organize a yard gnome Civil War reenactment, which is harder than it sounds.

Ooh, a relationship book on Halloween. Awesome! Oh, and hopefully you’ll get video coverage on that yard gnome Civil War bit… Now that, that I’d go out and buy a new laptop for. Mwahahaha!

I'd like to give you a great big thanks, and offer up a sacrificial treat as a way of showing my appreciation for your time. Corporal Crumb has volunteered his regimen of cookie cadets to serve as treats for not only you, but also your entire gnome army. Of course, he did come to this agreement under threat of death...so he won't be on today's menu.

Is there anything else you'd like to add before we take our armies and go today?

Jeremy: Thank you for the cookie cadets! They seem a bit upset about being eaten, but I don’t mind. In fact, I prefer cookies with chips on their shoulders.

Mmm. Yum! Tender sweet morsels of triumph…

Again, thanks for hanging out with me today, Jeremy. I look forward to seeing where your talent takes you.

Jeremy C. Shipp can be found in these places:

At his Website.

At his Blog.

Tweet him on Twitter.

Friend him on Facebook.

Meet him on MySpace.

Greet him on Goodreads.

Now it's your turn, folks. All questions welcome; good, bad, and ugly. Fire away! As for me, I'm going on Vacation!

Lord Likely and the Fountain of Fanton

2010-06-21T05:20:00.000-07:00

Likely Doom for Sordid Scribes

Today I'm serving up a little vegetarian special, right alongside a meaty portion of saucy something. So, without further ado, let's dig right in!

My guests today are self-depreciating scribe, Andy Fanton, and ego-maniacal aristocrat, Lord Likely. First off, I'd like to focus a little on the man behind the pen, Mr. Andy Fanton.

*Note: All Lord Likely's favorite foods are being served by scantily clad clandestine women in order to distract the dear Lord so that Andy can get a word in edgewise.*

So, Fearsome Fanton...uh...Andy?

*snaps fingers in Fanton's face*

Over here, Andy!

*Tap. Tap. Tap. Heather waits patiently until she has his full attention*

Andy: Huh? What, sorry...my mind was...elsewhere!

Yeah, yeah...That's what they all say. *grin*

Now, dear sir, I know times are tough, but sometimes it seems writing the tales of Lord Likely would be tougher. Do you enjoy the lowly work of scribe? And if so, what are the blessings and the curses of such a role?

Andy: Yes, I do enjoy the work of a scribe. I love writing, I love creating stories and characters out of thin air (with the aid of his lordship's notes, of course!) and I love the fact that moments later, they can be enjoyed by people all across the globe. It's a wonderful, freeing process. Of course, I'd prefer less thrashings, and more monetary recompense, but otherwise I am as sound as the proverbial pound.

Aw, come on! The thrashings are all part of the fun. Mwahahaha! Oh, okay. We'll spare your back. But just for today...

You are not only a scribe, but an artist as well. I've noticed lately several mentions of playing with food, something about a “Carroty kid.” Can you tell us a little about this heroic vegetable and how we can add it to our palates of viewing pleasures?

Andy: The Carrotty Kid was a project I began before Likely had intruded upon my life. It was basically a comic strip about a kung-fu carrot, which I then decided to submit to Cosgrove Hall Films (the animation studio behind classics such as Danger Mouse and Count Duckula). To my delight they loved it, and I spent a couple of wonderful years working alongside them in trying to develop the idea for TV. Alas, things didn't pan out in the end (as is often the case in the difficult world of television), but it was still a fabulous experience and the culmination of a childhood dream. The Carrotty Kid is slowly returning as a webcomic once more at carrottykid.com, where you can also see the pilot episode for the animated series that almost was. And where you can also see a carrot battle a giant robot.

The Pilot episode looks like a page fresh out of my life. HAHAHA! Only with less priceless belongings, and more makeshift junk... *sigh*

I've noticed several times you've thrown out bits and pieces of various things you've worked on and are working on. What all is available out there for “Fanton Fans,” and how do we find them?

Andy: Primarily there's Likely's adventures, and The Carrotty Kid, but I've also got my own site, which has a few other bits and pieces on it, including some of my still-gestating ideas, like 'George vs Dragon', and 'Jet Pets'. Oh, and there's a very erratically-updated blog there too, as I don't often have thoughts that extend beyond 140 characters these days!

Ah, you have twitteritus...very contageous, very consuming, and very hard to purge. But, you know what they say... "It's not the length that matters, but the depth of those 140 characters that keep the ladies coming back for more..." (Okay, so I just made that up, but whatever.) Give it to 'em good!

Aside from the pride that comes with being an online icon, being a scribe and an artist is an awful lot of work for very little, if any, profit. You have an online store to help offset costs, and you also accept donations, is that right?

Andy: That is indeed correct! There's a donations page on Likely's site, which people have very kindly used to throw a few shillings my way. It's very gratifying when people do so, it's quite a tangible vote of confidence in your work, like they're saying it's worth something. Plus, donators get access to the 'Member's Lounge', an exclusive part of the site with exclusive stuff in it. EXCLUSIVELY!

Sweet! I'd ask what goes on in the "Member's Lounge" but that kind of information is privileged to only those who have made it past the bouncer. Want to know what lies within? Go grease a palm or two, and see what happens. *wink*

Aside from "buying a membership" to the "Lord Likely backdoor brothel," how else can people help support "Fanton's Follies"?

*Yes, the above quotes are Heatherisms, and have not been labeled such by the illustrious scribe, so don't expect handouts for using my magic words...*

Andy: Also, yes, I have a little RedBubble store through which you can buy t-shirts, hoodies, kids' tees, posters, prints, cards and stickers all bearing my designs upon them. People who like such things should visit RedBubble to check 'em out! And then buy them, because papa's gotta eat! Haha!

Wow! *raises eyebrow* You feed your dad too? *grin*

Seriously, though. My personal favorite shirt is the “Ewe love...”. Want to know the rest of it, readers? Click it to find out!

Thanks for all your insight, Andy! Please feel free to help yourself to the snacks.

Next, I'd like to turn my attention to...Uh, Giselle? Where are you going with...Giselle!

Well, folks, it looks like the Lord Likely portion shall be postponed until a later time...

*shakes head* That girl is so fired! This is the third time she's run off with a guest this month!

Well, whatever. Anyway...

Thank you so much, Andy, for being such a considerate guest *grumble, grumble...unlike some people*.

Do you have any thing to add that may not have been addressed here and you feel needs to be made public?

Andy: Yes: if anyone can get to the Likely Estate armed with a hacksaw and/or a file, that'd be great. I've been chained to a desk in the cellar for over three years now, and feel I should maybe stretch my legs. Also, to all creatives: keep plugging away at whatever it is you do, because only you can do it. But mostly the hacksaw thing.

Tell you what, you pay the airfare, I'll buy the hacksaw. *evil grin* Or...perhaps I'll just volunteer Giselle as a diversionary tool to whosoever happens to have the guts to play hero.

Again, thank you for agreeing to indulge a silly scribbler's whims. I've had a smashing good time!

To find out more about Andy Fanton/Lord Likely, check out these links.

Andy Fanton's corner of the dungeon.

From the Scribe.

Lord Likely's lair.

Play with vegetables, Carroty style.

RedBubble, support creative genius.

Reach out and Tweet him.

Friend him on Facebook.

Alright folks. I open the comments to you. Want to know anything person, place, or vegetable about today's delightful guest? Ask away! As for me, I'm gonna go cuddle with a carrot...

Creating Christa~Steampunk, to start, then move on to art...

2010-06-14T06:24:00.000-07:00

...then munch a bunch, and design more after.

*all artwork done by Christa and will take you to a piece of her world*

Christa St. Jean first came onto my radar back in my avid twitter days. Brett Williams was pimping his book Family Business and was very proud of the cover that Christa designed for him. And, because the cover was beautiful, I had to check out the rest of her work. Let me tell you folks out there: There is much more to Christa than just images.

Christa St. Jean is a sort of visual Jill-of-all-trades. From her home page/blog, you can find links to her art portfolio, steampunk store, recipes, and a design business geared toward your online needs.

Christa is here today on short notice. Thank you so much for stepping up and opting to be my victim...er...my guest, Christa!

Christa: Hi Heather and thank you for this opportunity :)

First off, being a lover of all things art and still a baby in that world, I'm curious about “steampunk.”

For those of us who only recently became aware of that brand of style, can you give us a little background on what it means in general, and also what it means to you?

Christa: When it comes to Steampunk I can only tell you what it is to me since it is a design style that is changing depending on who you ask. But to me it's a mix of Victorian and Industrial design, like mixing lace with cogs. To me it means that I can recycle things that most people would throw away. It's environmentally friendly, it's unique and it's a challenge to put together a pendant or a ring from bits and pieces that already have their solid shape.

Hmmm...I have no idea why I didn't know much about this before. That defines my personality to a tee.

I know you create these designs and sell them on your site. But, do you do custom work as well? And if so, how does one go about acquiring your services?

Christa: Yes, I do custom work too. To contact me for a commission the easiest way is to get in touch with me via Steampunk Box, let me know what kind of object you want. I've kept pretty much everything I've made in the gallery at Steampunk Box since most people have a difficult time describing what they want, so I suggest you start there before getting in touch. I can't make the same thing twice, but if you want something similar to what I've already done, it's easier for me to know what style you're after.

Highly recommended, folks. But, if you aren't into steampunk, there's more!

I, personally, love finger painting, the way the paint coats and cools my hands, heats my emotions, and draws all kinds of craziness out of me, through my fingers, and onto a blank paper. I can't for the life of me make anything other than abstract gunk, but I love doing it!

Christa, in browsing your art, I can tell you put a lot more time and effort into your final product than I do. The different facets are well defined and detailed, and you also have quite the variety in not only images but in style.

How long does it take for you to do an individual painting?

Christa: Let me tell you a secret - I'm rubbish when it comes to abstract art :p Just can't do it. Guess I need the details and the reality in my paintings. The time it takes to complete a painting depends very much on what I'm painting, how detailed it is and how big it is too. If I paint for a print the area to fill is so much bigger than if I paint one of my portraits of someone famous for example...or anything else I can't sell. But it can be from 12 hours up to 2 months. The book cover I did for Brett Williams took nearly 2 months to complete since it was so complex with so many characters involved.

Wow! That sure says a lot about the quality of your work.

Is all your current art digital, or do you still do the good old-fashioned hands on style of art as well?

Christa: I do some regular sketches the old fashion way still, but unfortunately I don't have the space to paint in oil any more. The last painting I did was in 2007 and because oil paint requires a couple of weeks to dry, the canvas was living a very dangerous life on the easel in the living room :p So I've decided to put that on hold until we find a bigger place. Then I might claim a room as all mine and make it into a studio :D

Oh, yes! You should definitely commandeer a room for your art!

For those more interested in the art side than the steampunk, are you also available for custom art projects? If so, what types, styles, and how can those interested find you for a consultation?

Christa: I do book covers, CD covers and pretty much anything else a graphic designer does since that's my "real" profession. The style is anything you need and can think of. To get a consultation I'm available for questions or quote through Paperbag Designs contact form.

Yes, folks, besides the artistic stylings already mentioned, Christa is also a partner in a business called Paperbag Designs.

Christa, what services are provided by this company, and what do you have to offer that others don't?

Christa: We have a very cost effective alternative to the more expensive type of e-commerce platforms you can find today and we do a lot of work for customers who simply can't afford to pay for expensive updates. I've seen this becoming more and more common, but we have done this for the past couple of years now since we got Paperbag Designs up and running just as the recession started, and it's given a lot of small business the opportunity to either get their store online and pick up on a customer base, or to transform their already existing e-commerce into something that actually gives them a profit in the end. So it's been a win-win situation for everyone :)

Win-win is always a good thing. *grin*

But there is more to it than just e-commerce, am I correct?

Christa: Other than that we also offer web hosting, programming, installation services and graphic design as I mentioned above.

See, I warned you all that Christa was a Jill-of-all-trades. Want to know a little about other sides of Christa? Me too!

*smacks lips* It must be getting close to snack time or something, my tummy's growling at me. But that might just be from looking at all the yummy recipes and images on the “My Swedish Kitchen” link on Christa's page.

Now, Christa, is this just a hobby of yours, or is cooking as much an art to you as steampunk, painting, and graphic design?

Christa: How about obsession? LOL No...maybe not obsession, but I enjoy cooking. It's fun and maybe it can be creative if you want it to. Baking is probably one of my big problems really since I've got a sweet tooth that is all but good for me...too many pies and cookies and cakes together with not enough exercise makes you look and feel like a mammoth in the end.

And that is what friends were invented for. *smirk* So we can all be in that condition together. *wink* Hmm...I'll have to try some of those recipes. *yoink* I'll probably butcher them, I can't cook to save my life... well, I guess in a way that's not true. I do eat my own cooking. *grin*

I'm going to whip up a few morsels. Anyone else out there want to join me as a member of the mammoth club?

Christa, thank you again for stopping by today on such short notice. Is there anything else you'd like to add that I forgot to mention? Any parting tidbits, shameless plugs or promotions, or random facts of useless knowledge that may not be so useless at a time we least expect it?

Christa: I think we should keep my skeletons in the closet for now ;) The only thing I'd like to add is that if you are interested in the progress of digital painting, I do post almost daily at Paperbag Designs blog. Usually it is progress images from the current painting I'm working on together with a description. I also sell my prints at http://prints.paperbagdesigns.net and most of them have their own progress post in that blog at Paperbag Designs. But that should be it :)

Steampunk, e-commerce, art, and food. Yeah, I think we covered all the basics. The skeletons can stay in hiding. :P

Let's have a great big round of applause for our impromptu guest today. It takes one heck of a person to run my gauntlet on such short notice, and Christa did fantastic! Better yet, go check out her sites and show a bit of love by supporting a hard working creative soul!

You can find Christa at these places:

Keep up with her at her Blog.

Work your way through her Website.

Friend her on Facebook.

Tweet with her on Twitter.

Purchase a print at her Print Store.

Stock up on jewelry at Steampunk Box.

Make mmm mmm memories at My Swedish Kitchen.

Ladies and gentlemen, and lovers of all things art, I open the comments to your creative questions and honorable mentions. Feel free to leave your mark below!

A Fistful of Frisky with Amazon Goddess Saranna DeWylde

2010-05-17T05:41:00.000-07:00

Bar Brawls with Babes in Bras

*looking for surprise bonus material? Try clicking the links and images*

Saranna DeWylde, self-proclaimed Amazon Goddess, is in the house today. Okay, not in the house, at the Blahg, whatever *pthhhthb*.

A slave to her muse and social creature by nature—not to mention a former corrections officer—Saranna started writing horror stories at the ripe old age of eight, then moved into the Happily Ever After genre (yes, capitals included). Being a woman who managed to capture her very own Prince Charming, she is living proof that HEA really does exist.

Saranna's debut novel How to Lose a Demon in 10 Days will hit shelves November 2010 from Dorchester Publishing.

Alright, boys and girls. Grab your caramel apples—be sure to offer one to the wonder woman of curves… (No, no, not me! I meant Saranna!)—and enjoy a little foul mouthed banter between yours truly and the Amazon Goddess of Doom.

Hi, Saranna, and welcome to my Blahg.

First off, I’m curious. What’s with the title, “Amazon Goddess” and “Amazon Goddess of Doom”? And, oh mighty mistress, how does one become a minion? Er…that is, if you have minions…

Saranna: Of course I have minions. I have an ass thug army. You've been granted the title of Commander of the Western Legions, should you choose to accept it. *g* In actuality, there's not much involved. My minions have an embarrassing amount of free will.

Awesome! Just so you know, I’m also Commander in chief of the Assorted Cookie Army (or ACA), and we are hatching secret plans against a certain someone’s army of gnomes. I hope I get to play fun games like that in my CWL role in ass thugdom!

But enough foreplay, what about the title?

Saranna: The Amazon Goddess moniker came about after I was told I was a scary chick, that I was a bit too much for most men to handle, like an Amazon. I was used to the cracks about my height, I'm 6ft even. But I decided to own it. I'm outgoing, loud, kind of obnoxious and I make my own rules. Very goddess-y, in my opinion. It stuck.

I’d have to say that make your own rule thing is one of my favorite Saranna features. That rolls over into your writing too, I’ve noticed. I know you write primarily Happily Ever After stories. However, I’ve read a few of your darker stories that didn’t allow certain characters quite such a happy ending.

Is there a special set of Saranna criteria that dictates which characters get HEA and which just get…well…uh…just get got?

Saranna: I don't decide what they get. The characters tell me their stories and I choose whether to write them down or not. If something is particularly horrible to me, I won't write it down. I believe that you give ideas and essences a kind of life and immortality when you write about them.

I think that’s a smart move. Some things are best left in limbo. But, new stories are born every day, and no matter how bad things may get there are bound to be bright spots, both in stories and in life.

One bright spot in your life is the fact that you are one of the lucky few who found your fairy tale relationship. But, even fairy tale relationships have their ups and downs, I'm sure. I’ve heard many people say they love their other half, but s/he just doesn’t understand the nature of the writing beast. How about you?

Does being a full-time writer ever cause problems in the relationship you have with your Prince Charming?

Saranna: It's hard for a non-writer to understand what a harsh mistress our muses can be. It took me a long time to realize that it's okay if they don't. In fact, I'd never survive married to another writer. I'm a little bit selfish and I expect to be indulged when I need to write. No, Jonathan doesn't always understand, but he always supports me. He works two jobs so I can write full time and be with the kids, he's sensitive to when I need to write and helps out around the house when I'm on a deadline. Further, he puts out for inspiration. *wink*

Ooh, I’m sure I speak for all women when I say a little bonus inspiration is always welcome. Mwahahaha! But it wasn’t always easy, right?

Can you share a little about what you two have gone through, what you have learned through time, and how you guys cope now?

Saranna: There was a time when my writing was a source of contention, but it was more of a case of miscommunication than anything. A story I would share, but it would take pages and pages. So, to sum up, we're both more considerate of the other's needs and our relationship is bright with his shining armor. He's my rock and my very own romance novel anti-hero. Reformed rakes really do make the very best husbands.

*grin* So the trick with relationships is the same as in writing: Using the right words and phrases to get the point across in a way that captures the audience. *wink*

Having such a wonderful partner has given you the time you need to capture the Saranna Magic in words, such as your story being released through Dorchester Publishing.

How to Lose a Demon in 10 days will be out in November, but you are also working on other “10 day” stories. Did this series start out as a plan, or did your muse just tell you how it was going to be?

Saranna: Oh, she pretty much just kicked me in the taco and told me how it was going to be. The first book started out as a short smutty bit that I had considered deleting. The whole series was a complete surprise.

Wow. Your muse has salsa! No wonder she goes for the taco…

Can you tell us a little more about these stories? Perhaps share a little snippet?

Saranna: Here's an excerpt from How To Lose A Demon in 10 Days:

Caspian was technically a Crown Prince of Hell. Technically. And technically, he was royally fucked. Or was about to be.

How did he get himself into these things?

He felt the pull and Caspian knew there was no use in fighting it. The Big Boss had seen to that. It would just make it harder. Caspian gave a dramatic sigh and followed the call up into the mortal world.

Which he hated.

He materialized in the middle of a chalk-like circle, drawn with finely ground bone.

Correction, not ground up. It was old. It smelled like rot. It had turned to dust on its own. What was this happy crappy? Another weekend warrior? How come they always got the freaks? No one sensible ever tried to summon a demon.

Perhaps that should have been his first clue when he’d been considering careers…

She wasn’t bad to look at though, aside from the sneer on her face. In fact, she was almost a bit scary. This thrilled him. On the other hoof, she didn’t look at all impressed at his entrance. And Caspian was a showman.

“Why hast thou summoned me?” he began in a large, thunderous voice that rattled the windows and made various books and knick-knacks fall off of the shelves.

“I hope you know you’re cleaning that up.” The voluptuous woman put her fist on her hip and tossed her long, dark hair over her shoulder.

“What?” Caspian would have clapped a hand over his mouth had she not been staring at him so intently with those large, chocolate eyes. Who was she to tell him that he was going to do anything of the sort?

Chocolate eyes? Where the hell had that come from? Did he care what her eyes looked like? No.

“I know you don’t have to bellow like that. It’s not cute. I am not impressed.”

“Look, lady. You summoned me. You take what you get.”

Ooh, nice excerpt! Come November, I expect my copy to be signed! Yes, that DOES mean I plan on buying one. Mwahahaha!

But what if I don’t want to wait? Is there anywhere we can find other Saranna DeWylde stories we can enjoy right now?

Saranna: You can actually read the first few chapters of HTLD at How To Lose A Demon in 10 Days.

Did you see that guys? Another sampling. Go on. Go read it. We can wait.

*Cue theme music from Jaws*
***

*Heather taps foot impatiently, then looks at watch*
***

*Cue Jeopardy theme music*

Ah, there you are! Good, wasn’t it? Wonder what else is in store from the Amazon Goddess? I know, let’s ask her!

So, Saranna, how about future projects? Is there anything else in the works, or any other random Saranna tidbits you’d like to share with the world?

Saranna: I'm always working on something. I have a few more 10 Days novels in the works, a YA and horror novel. I'm lucky that my muse chooses to speak to me loudly and often.

Your luck is your readers good fortune. I can’t wait to see what else you have to share with us in the future!

Thanks again, Saranna, for taking time to sneak away from your muse to indulge my curiosity. Ooh, looks like Mistress Muse has the whip out. You better get back to writing.

Ladies and gentlemen, I now open the floor to you. However, be warned. If Saranna sees the words “conversate” or “anyways” or any combination of the two, you will not only be promptly ignored, but swiftly throttled and hung from the rafters as a lesson to others.

For more information on Saranna, you can find her at these places:

Saranna's Website.
Livejournal Love.

Tweet her up on Twitter.

Friend her on Facebook.

Become a MySpace minion!

Now...

Who has questions?

Hannah on TOP~Chapter 3

2010-04-30T08:11:00.000-07:00

And Thus it Begins

“Welcome to TOP orientation.”

A well-groomed gentleman resembling Santa in face and build, and wearing a crisp blue business suit, repeated the blaring statement scrawled across the top of the white board at the far end of the meeting room.

Hannah squirmed in the oversized office chair. For a brief moment, she wished the chair would swallow her whole, hiding her from this whole ordeal, but curiosity warred with the flight response and got the better of her.

Three others who shared the table looked just as uneasy, but the burly dark-skinned man at the far end of the table leaned back in his chair, stretched his legs out in front of him, and folded his arms across his chest. Tia—seated at the far end of the table—had greeted him as “Ace” when she ushered Hannah into the room.

The heavy man who’d welcomed them stepped close and slid a folder across the table to each of the newcomers, a young brunette with a Goth air about her, a nerdy-looking redhead with large thick glasses, a tall skinny boy with dark-brown hair and long lashes who appeared to be about Hannah’s age, and finally to Hannah herself.

Hannah fiddled with the corner of her folder, a deep purple one with the words “T.O.P. pre-enrollment paperwork” meticulously inked in thick black sharpie.

The booming voice of the speaker jerked her back to attention.

“Inside these folders you will find all the necessary T.O.P. pre-enrollment paperwork needed to continue your orientation.

He quieted and paced the room. Hannah stifled a nervous giggle. Just how long was this jolly-looking man going to state the obvious before explaining why they were here?

As though reading her mind, he halted and whirled to face the group. “Before we continue I’d like you all to turn to the first form in the stack.”

Papers shuffled, and the group flipped back the covers.

“Please read this page carefully and sign the agreement form. You will not be allowed to leave this facility without doing so. Also, if any of you wish to leave before we have to sign any further non-disclosure forms the time to do so is now.”

Hannah didn’t move. Nervous tension mounted in the air and the other three squirmed in their seats. Hannah turned her attention to the form before her.

The paper was a standard non-disclosure agreement. Nothing seen or heard in their time here would leave the building. Since there really hadn’t been much to see, and she’d liked what little she’d heard, Hannah scrawled her name across the signature line, printed the same, and filled in the date. She sat her pen down and looked up.

The boy of the group stared at her and tapped his pen anxiously on the table. You could leave, Hannah thought, but at that moment he scrawled his name as well.

The red head finished reading and looked up. “If we have to sign a non-disclosure form just for seeing an office, I don’t think this is anything I’m interested in.”

The heavy man nodded. “Sign the form and I’ll have Ace escort you out.”

She signed and stood, and as the burly muscled man walked her out of the room, the speaker asked, “Does anyone else wish to leave before we get started?”

Hannah shook her head, ignoring the other two remaining in the room with her.

“Good.” He moved to the white board and picked up a short wooden dowel, tapping it in his palm and watching them until Ace returned a few moments later. Then, he flipped the white board over on its hinges.

The faces of three girls stared at the group from a backdrop of black felt.

“These three girls are the reason TOP was founded.” He slapped his dowel against the board beneath the first girl, a smiling blonde with dark roots and pretty hazel eyes. “Sandra, born into a wealthy family, kidnapped at the age of sixteen. Her body was found eight days later by the Minnesota Police. The perpetrator was never apprehended.”

He paused, lowered his dowel, and looked at the group, making eye contact with Hannah. “But he didn’t stop there.” His dowel whacked the board under the second image, hitting where he aimed without as much as a glance. “Erika, daughter of a factory worker; decent man, single father, hard worker. She was home alone while he worked a mandatory overtime shift. The predator broke into the house and raped, brutalized, then finally murdered her.”

The young brunette, Erika, smiled happily at the group from her senior picture, probably the last picture ever taken of her in life.

“Erika was three months shy of her eighteenth birthday. Her father found her that evening.”

Hannah’s heart lurched in her chest. She knew how it felt to see a friend murdered, it must have been horrible for Erika’s father to find her that way.

“The authorities apprehended Leonard Maynard two miles shy of the state line. A solid case had been built against him. He went to trial but his crooked lawyer got him off on a technicality.”

His eyes teared up, and he swallowed hard.

“Vicki Danners.” His dowel thumped hard beneath the third image, a young girl with beautiful blue eyes, curly blonde hair, dimpled cheeks, and a striking likeness to the man standing before the group. “Fourteen year old daughter of a Vietnam vet, straight-A student, well-mannered and well-liked by everyone. Final victim of Leonard Maynard and a flawed justice system.”

He slammed his dowel down on the table before the three recruits.

“That predator once again went to trial. Once again, he managed to get off on a technicality. Maynard’s three victims were raped once more, this time of their justice.”

He stood tall, and proud, and then continued. “TOP is a privately funded and Government ignored organization. We are very selective with our targets and make one hundred percent sure we get the right person.” He paused and took a few deep breaths. “My name is Terry Danners, co-founder of TOP, a private agency set up for the sole purpose of Taking Out Predators. And you…”

He looked at each of them in turn. “You, my dear, young survivors, are the future last line of defense for the innocent.”

Amy's face appeared in Hannah's mind. Her heart stopped, her body froze. Hannah's pen hit the floor.

Running with Scissors~ the Ray Garton way

2010-04-19T05:44:00.000-07:00

Scissors by Ray Garton

Stuart has been seeing Dr. Ferguson everywhere, and yet he can't prove it. The snik-snik-snik of his scissors haunts Stuart no matter what he's doing. Is the demented doctor merely a figment of Stuart's overactive imagination, or is he really out to perform the same insidious procedure on Stuart's son?

This has to be my favorite Ray Garton story so far. And yes, that is an opinion. I love character driven stories, and though I had a little trouble at first trying to figure out which direction the story was headed, that is what made the meaty parts so wonderful.

Ray paints a detailed picture of each of his main characters. Just like Stuart and his art, Ray brings his characters to life, shows the players in their natural settings, builds on the relationships, and then...

Ray throws out the good ol' Ray-style curve-ball. I'm not going to elaborate on that, because I don't want to ruin the story for the readers, but he does a great job at taking his character set-up and development and turning it into the meat and potatoes of the story. The reader feels just enough for the characters that they worry with them, hurt for them, feel relief with them, and mourn for them throughout each step of the Scissors journey.

I definitely recommend this read, and not just for the horror fans. If you are a lover of psychological thrillers, or just like a good character driven plot, this book is for you.

Yep. Short. Sweet. No spoilers.

If you want more in depth reviews, all you need to do is google "Scissors by Ray Garton" and you'll find a whole long list of places to get information. You can also click on the image of the book, which will take you to the buy page where you can read reviews on Amazon. Then, while you're there, just click buy now. Yep, I'm all about saving you busy folks a step or two.

Or maybe not. *wink*

But at least I have fun trying!

Have a great week all! I'll see you Friday for Chapter 3 of my serial flash story "Hannah on TOP."

Hannah on TOP~Chapter 2

2010-04-16T07:30:00.000-07:00

Bait and Switch

The office into which the TOP representative led Hannah left her with a homey and welcoming feel. Rows of shelves lined two full walls, and on these, volumes of books begged to be touched. Alongside a shelf of collector edition classics, were encyclopedia styled volumes and a few shelves of instruction manuals.

Hannah should have known something like this awaited her when she followed the mysterious stranger out onto the school football field to a sleek black unmarked helicopter.

The woman who’d yanked her out of classes held out a hand. “I’m Tia, TOP intake and head of the HR department.” Hannah shook briefly. Tia released her grip, walked around the large cherry wood desk, and took a seat in a high-backed black-leather office chair. She gestured at the svelte maroon wing-back chairs across from her.

“Have a seat, Hannah.”

Hannah eased herself into the closest chair, balancing on the edge, still a little over-awed at the whole situation. Tia had said two words to her during the flight, and “Hold on.” did nothing to answer Hannah’s many questions. She slid her foot back and forth across the maroon throw rug protecting the dark-chocolate hardwoods from the abrasive legs of the desk and chairs.

“So,” she said, staring at her nails. “What’s this TOP thing?”

The leather of Tia’s chair creaked in protest, and Hannah looked up. Tia leaned forward, hands folded, her forearms resting on the desk.

“What I tell you must never leave this facility,” she caught and held Hannah’s gaze. “Only those with proper clearance can know of what we do.” She leaned forward even further. “Speak only to those you know and trust, and trust no one.”

Hannah swallowed, but didn’t look away.

“I need you to give me your word on this,” Tia continued. “Do I have your word on this, Hannah?”

Hannah nodded.

“No, Hannah,” Tia said and slapped her arms down on the desk. “I need you to swear yourself to secrecy. Swear on something you hold dear.” She trailed her fingers gently over the desk, looked down at them, then back up at Hannah.

“Swear to me on the memory of your murdered friend.”

Hannah caught the arms of her chair in a death grip and squeezed until the bones threatened to burst from the back of her hand. “Leave her out of this!” The words echoed flat and deadly in the once warm room now gone cold.

But Tia didn’t stop. “Swear on the power you felt when you put a bullet in the bastard who killed her.”

“Stop it!” Hannah lurched from the chair. “I didn’t want to kill. I didn’t want her dead.”

Tia flashed a predatory smile. “No, but you wanted him dead.”

“No!” Hannah shook her head savagely. “I’m not like him.”

Tia leaned forward, poised like a serpent ready to strike. “You wanted him to pay.”

Hannah dove across the desk and lunged for the woman’s throat. In an instant she found herself facing the opposite direction, arms pinned behind her.

“That’s it, Hannah.” Tia’s breath rushed hot against her cheek. “Remember that pain, that anger. Let it out. Let it flow.”

“Shut up!” Hannah screamed, struggling against Tia’s grip. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

“Oh, Hannah. Poor, broken Hannah. I’m going to teach you how to harness that rage. I’m going to show you how to use that pain for good.”

Hannah felt pressure on her head, and then a gentle caress as Tia stroked her hair.

“I’ve been there. I’ve felt your pain.” The grip on Hannah’s wrists eased, and she was pulled into an embrace.

“And someday I’ll tell you all about it. About my beautiful sister, and the monster that took her from me.”

Tia’s voice cracked slightly. “I want to help you, Hannah. I want to help you heal.”

Tears flooded Hannah’s eyes and flowed onto her cheeks. She sobbed against Tia’s chest, wordlessly enjoying the tenderness of the arms around her. She cried as Amy’s face surfaced in her mind and smiled. She curled against Tia when the predator turned to her with his panicked look. She cringed as the hole appeared on his forehead, and the light in his eyes died. She shook in Tia’s arms, bawling until her body went limp and there were no more tears to shed.

Tia’s hand cradled her head, and Hannah relaxed against the woman’s chest. “Let me help you, Hannah.” came the whisper of words. “Let me help you, guide you.” The gentle touch smoothed over Hannah’s hair and came to rest on her shoulders. “Let me give you the greatest gift a victim could ever hope to receive.”

Hannah pulled her head back and looked up into the deep dark eyes of the woman who offered salvation. Tia gripped her shoulders and held her at arms length. “Will you let me help you, Hannah? Will you take that chance and help us too?”

Hannah reached up and wiped her tears on her sleeve. She sniffled, and asked, “What is TOP?”

Tia gave her a smile, this time one that spoke of understanding. “TOP is a program that renders justice when the law can’t.”

The confused Hannah chewed her lower lip a moment. Then she asked, “How do you do that?”

Tia shook her head. That is something you’ll learn tomorrow in orientation if you choose to trust me and agree to stay. Tonight, I’d just like to get you settled.”

She moved from behind the desk and came to Hannah’s side. “Are you ready?” she asked, and held out her hand. Hannah didn’t hesitate.

The two women moved through the building and ascended a flight of stairs. As they reached the landing, a tall dark-haired boy about her age caught her eye. A flicker of a memory haunted her. She knew him from somewhere, but everything had become a blur since Amy’s death.

Hannah heard nothing else Tia said that evening. But it didn’t matter.

Hannah had already decided to stay.

Preposterous, Ray Garton. That's nothing but Twaddle!

2010-04-12T05:32:00.000-07:00

WELCOME

Are you ready for a bit of tedious twaddle?

*All images are linked to their respective Amazon buy pages and should open in a new window*

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My guest today is the witty, yet opinionated writer/movie lover Ray Garton. He lives in Northern California with his wife Dawn and their 9 kits. Ray learned to write horror through the religion of his youth, sold his first novel in 1984, and since then has authored over fifty books under his own name as well as the names Joseph Locke and Arthur Darknell. Four of his novels are in the process of being turned into movies.

Welcome, Ray. Thank you for stepping up to be the first victim…er…guest on my “Blahg”.

First question: Do I have the basics right? Or are all the links I found to do my research completely outdated?

Ray: The links are fine. An official website is in the works. I'll probably be the last writer in the world to finally get one. I swear, I have no idea how anyone gets any work done with all the online promotion -- I just don't understand it.

I highly doubt you’ll be the last, maybe close, but not the last. *grin* As far as the promotion comment, lately I've been wondering that myself. Books, and promo and movies, oh my!

Hmm…movies…

Some of your stories are rumored to be in the process of becoming movies. Now, are these hush, hush secret movies? Or can your adoring fans get a little sumpin’ sumpin’ in the way of a teaser?

Ray: Well, they aren't movies yet, and at least one of the four has completely stalled. Producer-director Charlie Matthau (son of Walter) picked up Sex and Violence in Hollywood. I read the script, which was written by a talented young writer named Ruben Sack, and I was blown away. That's a pretty big book and I expected chunks of the story to be missing from the script, but Ruben got everything in there. It was one of the best scripts I've ever read, and I'm not just saying that because it was adapted from my book. It was tight, sexy, funny, suspenseful -- I was astonished. Unfortunately, Charlie's producing partner -- the money guy -- was not as enthused about the story as Charlie was and didn't want to participate. At the moment, it's stalled, but Charlie is still interested and I'm hoping it can be saved. It would be a terrible shame not to use that wonderful script.

Ah yes, the wonderful funding snafu. I'm quite familiar with those. And, of course, if there are creative differences, money wins. *sigh* But what about the others?

Ray: Also in the works are Live Girls, Lot Lizards and my short story "Graven Image." I'm not involved in any of them. I would love to see all of them produced, but over the last 26 years, I've learned not to get my hopes up when it comes to movies. So I'll be happy if just one of them makes it to the screen.

I know several other people who will be happy with that too—first in line to see it kind of people. And if said people start nudging me for info, I'm going to point them to your happy new website...when it's finished, that is. *wink*

I actually have a couple more serious questions. And no, I don’t expect brutal honesty. *grin* Feel free to tell me to stuff it if these make you uncomfortable. *gets on steel toed boots*

I’ve seen quite a few comments from people about wanting to give up writing because it’s a pointless profession. Some of the comments blamed piracy, over-saturation, etc. Personally, I write for the love of it, and being a baby in the industry, I’m not quite ready to just throw up my hands, so to speak. But I’m curious.

You’ve been writing a long time. Do you ever feel like you’re burning out, like you should just toss in the towel, or it no longer matters? AND… if/when you feel that way, what keeps you going? Fans, fortune (HAHA), or just the love of the game? Inquiring minds want to know (even if it is just my inquiring mind).

Ray: I feel that way often. I really do. Publishing is going through a very painful and chaotic transformation right now, and no one knows what it'll be when the transformation is over. But I'm confident that there will always be people who read. Maybe not as many as there used to be, and how they read something might change -- an ebook instead of a printed novel, for example -- but I don't think readers are going to disappear despite all the doomsaying. I don't keep doing this for the money because that would be idiotic. Very few writers get rich at it or are able to do it full-time. But mostly, I keep at it because, to be honest, I can't do anything else.

I don't know about the "can't do anything else" part of it. I do know there are at least two little boys who will be reading for a long time. Long after I'm gone, I should hope, and they darn well better leave their own little ones the same legacy!

My second serious question has to do with perception. At the first real concert I attended, the lead singer said the one song they put out that they couldn’t stand became one of their most popular. Do you ever feel that way about any of your books? If so, why?

Ray: I recently learned that In A Dark Place: The Story of A True Haunting, which I wrote back in 1992 about Snedeker family's claim that they lived in a former funeral home infested with butt-fucking demons (which later became the basis for the TV show and feature film The Haunting in Connecticut), is the most-requested out-of-print book about the paranormal in the country. It will never be in print again because I won't allow it. I wish it had never been published in the first place. It was all a lie, a complete fraud, even though the book was published as non-fiction. The movie was not based on a true story, it was based on the concoction of a family out to make a buck. Their story has changed a good deal over the years, and now Carmen Reed (Snedeker) is writing a new book about her alleged experience, which will incorporate the many changes that have taken place in this ever-evolving "true" story. I'm asked about that book a lot. I don't mind because people say they really enjoyed it, that it genuinely frightened them. And I'm glad. But I'm quick to point out that it was not a true story. I was told to use what I could of the Snedeker's weak, inconsistent story and to make the rest up, and that's what I did. I tried to make it as entertaining and scary as I could, and if I succeeded, I'm happy. But the whole thing disgusts me.

Embellished "non"-fiction. Yeah, that would do it.

But that’s old news, now. Let’s get back to the present.

Your latest release is Scissors, is that right? What inspiration brought this story to life?

Ray: I'm not sure if there was any one thing that inspired it. Some books are sparked by a single thing, others grow more gradually. This is one of the books that grew. Unlike most of my horror fiction, it doesn't deal with the usual vampires or werewolves or ghosts. The horrors are more internal, more intangible, and have to do with emotions and psychology rather than monsters and viscera -- although there's still plenty of visceral stuff in there. Of my horror novels, this is my personal favorite. It's certainly my most personal because it involves a lot of my own history -- an oppressive religious upbringing, physical abuse, a family that remembers things in their own particular ways. Scissors is a horror story, but a couple of the things it deals with are the ways our memories effect our emotions and the way our emotions effect our memories, and how one's experience with one's own parents effects one's ability to be a parent.

*looks around warily* You just nailed my past in one sentence. I'm just not going to say which one.

Can you tell us a little about Scissors?

Ray: As a boy, a very unpleasant medical procedure was performed on Stuart Mullond. It was supposed to be done during surgery to repair a hernia, but his doctor, Dr. Ferguson, forgot, and instead does it in his office with no anesthesia. During the procedure, Stuart's mother holds him down. Now, decades later, Stuart is going through a difficult period in his life. Suddenly, Dr. Ferguson begins showing up, and he always has his scissors. He says he wants to perform that same procedure on Stuart's son.

For you fine folks out there who want to know a little more about this story, a quick google search for "Scissors by Ray Garton" will pull up reviews from various places. I know, I checked. (Also, as this information intrigued me, I went out and splurged on the book. Check back next Monday for my details!)

Now that we've addressed your current release, I have to ask… What are your plans for the future? Are there any new stories in the works?

Ray: I'm working on a few things, which is always a bad idea for me because I'm lousy at multitasking. I'm finishing a novella -- or a long short story, one or the other -- called Threesome, which will be published by Sideshow Press. I'm also working on Dismissed From the Front and Center, a novel I've been working on periodically for a few years now about my two years at a Seventh-day Adventist boarding academy (it's a comedy). And I'm preparing to work on the follow-up to Bestial.

I'm personally really looking forward to Dismissed From the Front and Center. But then, that probably has a lot to do with my own background. Whatever my reasons, please keep me posted!

Besides all that, it appears there is yet another aspect to your busy schedule.

On top of the writing, and the promotion, you also now offer a critique service. How does one get in on that action?

Ray: All one needs to do is contact me. I'm available to give a full manuscript critique, and I take novels, novellas, short stories, at whatever stage of the process the writer cares to involve me. There's a description of what I'm offering here.

Anyone who's interested or has questions can contact me at raygarton@mail.com.

Did you get that, everyone? If you want someone who has experience in the industry to take a look at your work, read Ray's blog post on this service, then send him an email at the address above.

Are there any other big Ray Garton secrets you’re ready to let out of the box?

Ray: Well, if I told you, they wouldn't be secrets, would they?

Sure they would. *grin*

For those of you out there interested in learning more about Ray, here’s where he can be found:

Read his take on the world at his preposteroustwaddlecock blog.

Friend him on Facebook.

Follow him on Twitter.

Or hit him up on MySpace.

Thank you so much for joining me today, Ray. I hope to have other opportunities to pick your brain as the need arises. Keep me posted on the releases, I’m always happy to share!

Ray: Thanks for having me, Heather! You have lovely nipples!

Thanks, I agree. *grin* And on that note, I open the comments to the masses.

Hannah on TOP~Chapter 1

2010-04-09T08:49:00.000-07:00

First Kill

Seventeen year old Hannah reached for the change of clothes in her locker and smiled. Her best friend Amy had talked her older brother, Chad, into a ride to the mall in his convertible. Hanna had been crushing on him for a long time. Sweet blue eyes, coal black hair, six-pack abs. Amy knew it too.

So why was she standing here daydreaming? She needed to get changed. Her cheerleader uniform wasn’t going to impress him any.

Something cold and hard pressed into her bare lower back.

“Do what I say and I won’t kill you,” a deep voice whispered in her ear.

Hannah shuddered. “What do you want?” her voice cracked.

“Be quiet, do as you’re told, and everything will be fine.” Gloved fingers stroked across her cheek, pulling a stray wisp of hair away from her face. “I have a surprise for you in the showers.”

Her heart pounded. This shouldn’t be happening. This was the girl’s locker room. “I….”

The cold metal pressed deeper into her flesh. “Hush,” the voice whispered. “It’s time to go.”

The hand that had been so eerily gentle on her face moments before caught her upper arm in a vice-like grip. She jerked away from her locker and stumbled forward as the man behind her pushed her toward the tiled opening at the end. Steam billowed from the entry, and Hannah’s breaths quickened and her legs threatened to buckle.

Amy had already gone to take her shower.

“Where’s…”

The cold tile of the wall met her cheek. The man’s weight pressed against her, and she stared into the barrel of his gun.

“I told you to shut the fuck up!”

She nodded, ever so slightly. A sob escaped her body, but she remained stone still.

“Good,” the voice said. “Now, move!”

Once more she was shoved toward the showers. This time she stumbled forward and didn’t say a word.

The hall twisted, opening into a larger area where water from one stall near the back splashed against a foggy plastic curtain. Muffled cries echoed from behind it, and Hannah burst into tears.

The man rested his gun on the bench that lined the back wall, and then gripped her wrists and pushed her roughly against the cold tile. Hannah tried to yell, but he cranked the faucet and shoved her face under the spray.

“Uh, uh, uh. Good girls aren’t loud.” He fumbled with his pants. Hannah fought for a reasonable amount of air under the heavy pelting of water, but couldn’t find her voice to scream.

A length of rope wound round her wrists. She struggled a moment, but he shoved her again into the wall, knocking the wind from her and sending a ringing through her ears. He fumbled at his waist again. Hannah cried. Tears ran down her face. His large fingers shoved a thick damp cloth into her mouth, and she tried to bite him.

“Feisty little bitch, eh?” he asked with a laugh, and secured the gag firmly around her head.

Massive hands rested on her shoulders and shoved her to the floor. Calloused flesh ran over her legs, and gripped her feet when she tried to kick.

“Now, now,” he said. “Little girls must play nice or suffer the consequences.” He wrapped another section of rope around her ankles and tied it tight. “Much better.”

He stood, then, tall and muscular, his face covered by some odd patchwork mask, pieced together haphazardly as though by an amateur.

“First, your friend. Then, you.”

He turned and jerked open the curtain. Amy knelt there, arms bound to her legs, head resting against the solid surface of the wall at a weird angle. He tilted his head in a way that matched hers, and Amy whimpered. In one swift motion he leaned down and snapped her neck.

Hannah tried to scream and nearly choked on the gag. “Too much of a fighter,” her captor said, as he unfastened his pants and knelt before her friend’s dead body.

She closed her eyes tight and fought the bonds. Her wrists ached, her arms hurt. She struggled to tune out the grotesque grunting coming from uncomfortably close. Her thumb popped out of joint, and her heart soared at the thought of freedom. She did the same with the other. A stupid hereditary fluke, some silly weekend party trick, and it may be the thing that saved her ass. The rope held fast, but Hannah wriggled her wrist and gently eased her hand from the bonds.

Opening her eyes, she almost retched, but then she saw red. She lunged for the gun, gripping it firmly as she turned toward the man who swiveled at her movements and faced her with eyes wide over his pathetic mask. He threw himself toward her, still exposed, arms reaching for the weapon.

The gun bucked in her hands, she jerked back and the cold tile caught her and cradled her body, as a hole appeared in his forehead and a trail of blood ran down his face. She pulled the trigger, again and again, emptying the gun into the man. Even then, she didn’t stop trying to kill him.

Gentle arms gripped hers. “Hannah?” She turned, and stared at the concerned face of her coach.

Her friend’s dead face appeared, and then the man’s face, with the bloody holes and empty eyes. Hannah retched.

* * *

Hannah turned herself off after that. She didn’t live, she functioned. Counselors tried, therapists, her parents even talked about committing her. Hannah didn’t really care.

On the day of her eighteenth birthday, a somber businesslike woman pulled Hannah from her classroom into a private meeting and said, “I’m with TOP, and we want you on our team.”

For the first time in almost a year, Hannah felt something stir inside. “What’s TOP.”

The woman smiled. “We can’t talk here. If you want to know, come with me.”

She stood and walked out of the principal’s private office.

Hannah followed.

Fun, Fun, Fun and a Glutton For Punishment

2010-04-05T06:19:00.000-07:00

More! More!

Give me more!

Yes, I do have an insane amount of plans in the works.

Going to college, managing a couple of boys preparing to enter the teen years, and planning a big move certainly keep me busy.

Yet, no matter how busy I get, I enjoy this writing stuff. And I don't just mean the writing part of it.

Lately, I've discovered something about myself. I've discovered that I no longer NEED to write. I spent decades with writing as my therapist, allowing that outlet to keep me sane, make me whole, and give me what was so lacking in my life. This gift—this wonderful, beautiful blessing—is gone. I don't have the drive to write, no real desire to create characters from the parts of me I loathe and do horrible things to them, no urge to share stories where the bad guy seems to win for most of the story, and no will to paint a picture of unspent emotion becoming too much and resulting in chaos.

It isn't writer's block. It isn't that my muse has forsaken me. It isn't even that I'm burnt out.

What it is, is so much more. I'm happy. For the first time in my life, I'm honestly and truly happy. I never thought I'd escape my dream world...but I have.

Don't get me wrong, I still have a love for writing. I just can't do it right now. But, instead of giving up on my gift—because I don't see it as being gone forever, merely as taking a vacation to allow me to fully embrace that happiness—I am turning it into helping others. I still feel creative, but my stories may change, become something else; and right now, I don't want to think about how I've lost a part of me; because I would give it up again in a heartbeat to feel like this.

I enjoy editing, I enjoy doing interviews, and I enjoy promotion of other people (still not so much myself). I also still enjoy scribbling out a short story here and there; just not the long stuff full of miserable, tortured characters. With Fast Friday dead, I may end up posting plenty of shorts for you, dear reader, to enjoy at your whim. And while I'm pretty sure I'll eventually get my groove back, this time it will be for no other reason than I WANT to. Until that time...

There is other super-secret-fun-stuff in the works as well. Stay tuned for more information sometime after late summer.

But for now, be sure to read about my plans to provide a little boost to the authors that guest here in yesterday's post at "The Smudge", and mark your calenders for next Monday when I have as my guest the illustrious Ray Garton.

Have a great week, everyone.

See you on Friday!

Fast Friday: Thumper on the Bumper

2010-04-02T07:57:00.000-07:00

If Easter Bunnies Bring eggs,

What do Easter Chickens bring?

Boys and girls,

Ladies and gents,

This is the place,

Where I toss my two cents.

Easter is coming,

It will be here quite soon,

And I have me an offer,

That will make you all swoon.

I'll save this announcement,

For down at the end.

HEY NOW, be patient!

You can wait, my dear friend.

Before we go forth,

And announce the surprise,

I present to you sentences!

Here...

Feast your eyes!

Okay, enough with the rhyming. Here are this week's Fast Friday folks!

Author: Brett Williams

Steamy smiles and sudsy seduction in a pelting spray brings warmth to my heart.

About the Author: Fast and fun, the writing of Brett Williams is sure to thrill readers. Follow him on Facebook and look for his self-published anthology "Friction: Sex-Crazed Tales" coming this summer.

Author: Charity Smith

Brides and babies merit their own, while April's benefits another. And those who do not indulge are often labeled hygienically challenged. They stink.

About the Author: Charity Smith is a mother, a sister, a daughter, and a friend. Her sense of humor offsets her blazing opinions and makes for an entertaining bit of intelligence. Her personal blog can be found over at her Oddball Mind blog, and for topics of a more political nature, check out her King of the Forest blog.

What?

*sigh* Yeah, yeah, you're tired of waiting.

Okay, okay, I give.

Know the saying, "don't put all your eggs in one basket"?

Well...

For those of you who have haven't either won or purchased "Ebin's Heart", you now have the opportunity to once again be entered to win a copy. Not only that... there are other surprises in store also!

Since you've finished reading here, pop on over to "The Smudge" and find out about The Easter Blog Hop I'm participating in, courtesy of Alanna Coca!

WOAH! Not so fast...

Don't just go off on a MAD DASH...

Leave in style with a HOP, SKIP, and a JUMP!

Okay, NOW you can go. *wink*

I know... Let's blame God!

2010-03-29T16:18:00.000-07:00

I had a lovely time visiting this great little place called Kansas. It was definitely just like Oregon...well...after a giant took a bulldozer to it. I really wish the vacation had been longer. I haven't had a breather like that in a long time.

But, here I am, back in lake puddleville and my normal daily grind.

Today was the first day of spring classes. This morning I sat at the bus stop soaked to the bone, and a lovely gentleman came and tried to chit chat with me. He started with the small talk out of the blue, and I geared up for preaching. The man did not disappoint. Out of his raincoat came a magazine that I am oh so familiar with. I just smiled and before he could say a word, I gave him my spiel, "I was raised in that religion, they kicked me out, and I want nothing more to do with it. Thanks." The poor guy waded through torrential downpour for nothing. Perhaps I should feel bad, but I don't. Perhaps I should feel guilty for that, but nope. Nothing. At least hell will be warm.

I arrived at my math class. Another girl and I sat in the back row. Shortly after, one student who has taken three classes with this teacher sat between us. The two of them started talking about majors. She wants to go into creative writing. He asked her favorite author. Now, at this point I'm interested. A fellow lover of words? Heck yeah! But then, she opened her mouth, and out fell the old death sentence on any respect I had. "I don't really read." WHAT. THE. HELL?

I'm sorry. I will never buy ANY book by an author who doesn't show support for other writers. Really? That's just...I mean...

OH. HELL. NO!

Writers MUST read. I won't respect you if you don't. PERIOD.

The worst part about it? She said God called her to writing. It was a gift.

What about the rest of us who have the same gift? Huh? You want us to support you, but you don't really read? AUGH! And this set off my God rant.

What is wrong with the world today? If man has free will—if GOD gave man FREE WILL—why is it that one man tries to lord it over another? Why is it that no one takes responsibility for their actions anymore? Why is God blamed for everything? Why is he responsible for everything?

Before you religious folks go off, stop and think. I did not say God was evil. I did not say I didn't believe in him. I didn't say a word about God aside from acknowledging his gift of FREE WILL. If you read closely, you will see I am talking about PEOPLE. I actually feel kind of sorry for God. Natural disasters are his fault. People throw around Bible verses to suit their own needs. Gays are judged, told that they aren't allowed the same rights as everyone else because of God. God takes babies when they die. Old people go to heaven to be with God. Anything humans can't tolerate is either forbidden by God, damned by God, or blamed on God.

The poor guy is probably sitting up there with his head hanging over the toilet as he empties the fifth of Jack Daniels he drank last night because he never thought that his beautiful creation would actually finally develop a full blown teenage mentality. And anyone who has teens or pre-teens knows that feeling of wanting to be bestest buds with something strong enough to numb the pain. Maybe those who tell me to turn back to God need to consider that maybe God needs a little bit of a break himself. Maybe God trusts me enough to make the right decisions. Maybe he wants me to do so in order to prove to him how proud of me he can be. Maybe he wants to be able to gloat to his buddies about how I'm passing all these tests with flying colors because I have taken that free will and learned to treasure and respect it and use it properly.

I'm not preaching. I'm not saying there is, or isn't a God out there. What I'm saying is this...

Does anyone REALLY care about what GOD feels? Or are we as humanity using him to promote our selfish desires without taking the blame for our thoughts, ideas, and beliefs?

Maybe it's true that my ability to write is a gift from God. But ultimately I am the one who has to choose to use it. He knows that too. He gave me the gift, it's my responsibility to do with it what I will. I won't blame him, and I won't gloat about it and say I'm better than anyone else, but most of all, I won't throw away the right I have to claim the hard work I put into it. God may have given me my gift, but once it passed to me, it became mine. I embrace it, accept it, and know that I can use it as I see fit.

God's gifts are not returnable. He gave them, he wanted us to have them. And I'm sure that if he spoke to me, he'd tell me the same thing he'd tell everyone else. Take responsibility for them, use them wisely, cultivate them and watch them grow.

And for heaven's sake...

STOP TRYING TO RE-GIFT THEM TO ME! I'M JUST NOT INTERESTED!

Beyond Ever After

2010-03-27T18:45:00.000-07:00

Business As Unusual?

Maybe on Monday.

My VACATION was too BEAUTIFUL and RELAXING to come back and work until my weekend is over.

So, in honor of that... I'm posting a short story for your entertainment. *grin*

Y'all come back on Monday, now. Y'hear?

Enjoy!

Beyond Ever After

The walker came down in the leaves with an excited crunch. She smiled as they crackled. So what if she’d grown old enough to be unable to leap and bound through them and roll about in the crisp autumn air. That didn’t prevent her from taking a gentle walk with her best friend and lover of several decades.

His hand rested on hers as he trudged along cane in hand. She smiled. Time hadn’t been so bad to the two of them. Aches and pains were nothing in comparison to the memories they had shared over the years. Resting briefly on the cool metal, she turned her head and looked up at him. “Did you remember your pills today, hon?”

He raised his hand and looked at it, then swung it behind his back and smiled at her mischievously. Uh oh… she knew that look.

Whack.

He took off, lumbering forward and leaning heavily on the cane with each step.

“Ow!” She rested heavily on her walker and rubbed her backside with one bony hand. “Why that little…”

She glanced up at him, shoved her glasses back up where they belonged, and called out, “I take it that new arthritis medication is working pretty darned good!”

Ignoring her still tingling bottom, she gripped the cool metal and grinned. He wouldn’t get too far too fast on his bad hip, and she’d never been one to give up when challenged.

The walker lifted easily in her arms. His playfulness made her feel young again, and full of life. She plunged the metal frame into the leaves and crashed through, her feet heavy. Stupid orthopedic shoes. She missed her boots, “ass-kickers” as she affectionately called them. But per her doctor’s orders, she’d traded them in for “old fogie shoes”. If it wasn’t for her sweetheart…

She shrugged off the pain of that memory and checked his progress. He’d made it to the top of the stairs and stood bent at the waist, cane hanging from his arm and he himself leaning heavily against the solid framework of the door. Now was her chance. With methodical movements she pushed forward—walker, feet, walker, feet—closing the gap until the base butted up against the bottom of the three steps.
At the thump of her contraption, he looked up and grinned.

“Don’t you dare!” She thrust the thing aside. It toppled into the yard with a crash, sending leaves scurrying out of the way, crushing others. They hadn’t quite settled before he was in the house, and she was pulling herself up the final step with a death grip on the railing. She jerked the screen wide and stumbled through the still open door. Her breaths came in gasps, her heart beat wildly, both from exertion and from the thrill of the chase.

He sat on the couch wearing a smug expression which changed to a cocky grin as she stepped farther into the room. He patted the cushion next to him. Her heart soared. There had been a few rough times in their life together, but he never lost that gentle thoughtfulness that made her want to tuck him close and never let him go. She plodded across the carpet and let herself fall beside him.

With one hand he gripped hers then leaned heavily on the other and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’ve still got it, baby.”

She smiled, “You sure do, hon. You sure do.”

He moved their hands to her leg and released her. “I’ll be right back.”

Heaving a sigh, she leaned back and closed her eyes. The romp through the leaves had taken more out of her than she’d first thought. He may still have it, but she really didn’t. She would never tell him, though. The last thing she wanted was to break his spirit.

Her eyes fluttered open at the smell of cocoa. Damn, that boy knew how to cheer her up.

“Wanna watch a movie?” He looked at her with the same excitement as the day they enjoyed their first show together.

“Sounds wonderful.”

He held out the mug, and she took it, allowing the warmth to seep into her hands and enjoying the aromatic steam wafting from the top. He slipped in the disc then shuffled back to the couch and sat beside her.

She sipped the cocoa, and handed it to him when he reached for it.

He sat the mug on the end table then turned and cupped her face. “I know this isn’t the happily ever after we’d imagined, but I wouldn’t change a minute of it.”

Her insides lit up and her face tightened from her smile. “Maybe not, but life ain’t no fairy tale.”

He pressed his lips to hers, then draped her in his arm and pulled her against him as the movie started.

“Besides…” She curled close and looked up at him. “This is better.”

He looked into her eyes.

She raised a gnarled finger and traced a gentle line down his cheek. “Every day I’ve spent with you has been its own happy ending.”

He frowned a moment. “Let’s pray tomorrow isn’t a tragedy.”

She shook her head and tapped his chest. “Now, what have I told you about that?”

His arms wrapped her tight. “Let’s just watch the movie. This one’s my favorite.”

She nuzzled close, knowing that was the best she would get out of him. Her smile faded, and she closed her eyes tight to hold back the threatening flood. A lone tear slipped through, but he would never see it. Reaching up, she grazed her face with her sleeve, wiping away all trace of sadness as she caressed his cheek.

He kissed her hand, and whispered, “May tomorrow never come, my love. May tomorrow never come.”

His sentiments echoed in her mind as she slid her hands down, turned in his embrace and held him tight.

Either together or not at all.

***

Two families stood around the graves replacing the fading flowers they’d brought the week before.

One of the younger children looked up at her parents. “Why did they have to go at the same time? Grandmamma made the best brownies.” She threw a handful of grass into the wind. “And Grandpapa used to like to play my favorite board games.”

Her dad looked down at her. Then, he bent his knees and crouched at her level. “Sweetie, Grandmamma and Grandpapa lived a long time. They loved each other very much. Had Grandmamma lived longer than Grandpapa, she would have been very sad; and the same with him.”

“But now they’re gone.” Tears streamed down her little face. “I miss them.”

He pulled his daughter into his arms. “I know sweetie. We all do.”

“Daddy?” she said and pulled back.

“Yes, honey?”

She held his large hand in her small one. “Did they finally find the happily ever after Grandmamma always talked about?”

The man smiled and poked his daughter’s belly. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I think they finally did.”

A woman walked up and rested her hand on his shoulder. “We’re leaving now, dear.”

He nodded and stood, lifting his little girl and settling her on his neck.

“Daddy?” She leaned forward and rested her arms on the top of his head.

“Yes, honey?”

“Do you think I’ll find my happily ever after?”

The man stopped walking a moment. He reached up and took her hand in his. “What would your Grandmamma say in answer to that?”

The little girl sat up and tapped her chin. Grandmamma used to tap her chin when she needed an answer.

“I think she’d say… Yes!” She patted her dad on the head.

He took one step, stopped abruptly a moment then started walking toward the car.

“I think you’re right honey. I think you’re right.”

The little girl smiled, and deep within her heart, her Grandmamma and Grandpapa smiled too.

A Heather Scribble:~Business as Unusual~

2010-03-22T05:03:00.000-07:00

Business as Unusual

“Albert Finder, you’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Dane Hobble.”

Albert glared at the gasping, wheezing man seated on the back of the ambulance fighting for breath, finger pointed directly at Albert. Of all the dumb luck, he thought as the cold metal clicked tight around his wrists.

“But I didn’t,” Albert mumbled, “I had nothing to do with it…”

His wife hadn’t wanted him to come on this trip. She’d begged and pleaded and even tossed out the infamous, “If you love me…” line.

Albert hadn’t listened. Hell, they’d been married thirteen years and her nagging and paranoia had started on their honeymoon. “Albert, we’ve been married four hours and already you’re checking out some beach bimbo.”

Over the years it became so bad he’d stopped doing any of the things he loved to do. He’d lost out on promotions, lost out on opportunities for any sort of advancement in his career because he turned down all the extra hours and trips for fear of his dear vehement Vera. “Overtime? Overtime is just another way of saying bitch on the side.” Man, could that woman ever lay a guilt trip.

Oh, but that had all changed three weeks earlier. Her accusation that he was cheating on the job, that he somehow found a way to "get his rocks off on his lunch hour with some office slut" had set him to stewing, That afternoon, he intercepted the credit card statement and found out his ten thousand dollar credit line was maxed out—when had that happened?—and the company threatened to send him to collections for non-payment. Albert fumed in livid anger at that news.

So the next day at work, when the CEO offered him an all expense paid company trip to Florida in place of Sandy—who’d been scheduled originally but came down with a severe case of pneumonia—Albert jumped at the chance. Three days away from that nagging bitch… Oh, yeah!

A business trip! All expenses paid at that. Damn, but he’d been excited. He’d long ago stopped thinking of dear old Vera as anything other than “that jealous hag”. The trip felt like a gift from heaven.

Everything had gone fine, well, aside from being crashed into by the klutz behind him—who turned out to be the same amicable Mr. Hobble, salesman extraordinaire—now seated on the back of the ambulance. And then there was the spilled coffee; mid-flight too. Albert looked down at the nice dark stain on his brand new khakis. Only someone as lucky as Albert could possibly wind up seated next to that odd little man after the run in while boarding. Dane’s incessant chattering hadn’t done him any favors either. Oh, but what really made the whole experience memorable was the phone call from his wife, the one in which she yelled so loud the whole plane heard, and yet Albert had giggled uncontrollably throughout, not because of her words, but from the faces and mimicked words the talented Dane Hobble performed in sync with the call.

Okay, so maybe things hadn’t gone quite as well as he’d have liked. But he could handle all that, could still have hung on to some shred of dignity…if it wasn’t for the damn peanut episode.

Albert clenched his teeth. Dane had opted for a package of cashews. Albert declined the snack offer. But then Dane went all crazy and whispered to Albert that the airline was trying to kill him. Albert had rolled his eyes and asked how. Dane told him it was the peanuts, he was hungry, had low blood sugar, and they were forcing him to take peanuts when he was deathly allergic to them. Albert took one look at the package, and showed Dane the word cashews written boldly across the front. “Are you allergic to any other kinds of nuts?” He asked. Other than yourself, he added in his mind. The other man shook his head ferociously. “No." Dane responded, “So why did they give me peanuts?”

Albert’s exasperation won at that point. He summoned the stewardess and talked her out of one bag of cashews and one of peanuts. “Look, Dane.” He held up the two packages. “This one,” he said thrusting the peanuts forward, “says peanuts. And this one,” he shoved the package that read cashews at the man, “says cashews.”

“Fine,” Dane had cried out in alarm and snatched the cashew package from him before tossing his own at the stewardess. “I’ll take these.” Albert shook his head and thanked the poor woman who just stood there staring at them like they were insane. It was the same look his wife gave him and when she turned and walked back along the aisle he was happy to be rid of her.

“You’re sure these are cashews?” Dane’s voice had echoed ominously loud in the cabin of the plane.

“Yes, yes. Absolutely sure.”

Dane ripped over the package and devoured the contents. By then, Albert hadn't held out much hope that the craziness of the entire day would dissipate. “Drama queen,” he muttered, then leaned his seat back and slipped into a welcome state of unconsciousness.

He woke to a flailing fist impacting his nose. An empty peanut pack sat on the tray table before of him. Dane Hobble fought for his breath.

“Well, fuck,” Albert murmured and alerted the stewardess.

After that had come the emergency landing in Austin. So much for a non-stop flight to Miami. Instead, he stood at Austin-Bergstrom International Airport in police custody. The officer nudged him from behind. “Let’s go.”

Albert shook his head to clear his thoughts then walked toward the waiting car. This was nothing a good lawyer couldn’t fix. A smile crept across his face. While he was at it, he’d ask that lawyer what it would take to divorce that nagging bitch. Hell, he’d have to thank Dane later, once all this nonsense got straightened out.

He took a final look at the man.

His mouth dropped open, his eyes grew wide. The pounding in his chest and ears threatened to bring him to his knees. Then he saw red.

What was that bitch doing with her arms around Dane Hobble and her lips pressed to his?

“No!” His voice erupted from him in violent rage. He jerked from the officer’s grip and ran toward the backstabbing, two-timing whore as fast as a man could with his arms trapped behind him.

“Stop.” The officer shouted, but Albert ignored him. That vindictive twit would pay, and so would her self-serving accomplice.

“I said stop.”

A sudden burst of sharp pain dropped him to the ground. He writhed in agony, willing it to stop. The pursuing officer stood over him and shook his head. “I told you to stop.”

Fucking taser!

Albert gasped for air, fought for sanity. So much for his vacation.

The officer hauled him to his feet. “That kind of stunt will get you additional time in the clank.”

More time in the clank…Albert burst into laughter as the officer opened the car door. Vehement Vera couldn't touch him in the big house. Rough hands pushed him down into the seat, and Albert swung his legs in without resistance. He looked up at his captor with a toothsome smile. The officer raised an eyebrow.

“Thank God for business trips,” Albert cackled as the door slammed closed. Then he leaned back and closed his eyes. Thirteen years. Thirteen years of hell with that bitch. Three days would have been fantastic, but several years?

This was going to be the best vacation ever!

Fast Friday: Beat me baby, and a dollop of cream

2010-03-19T08:02:00.000-07:00

It's time to put the smack down.

CRACK!

Ooh, Dessert!

My Fast Friday escapade hasn’t been such a walk in the park. It’s been more of a fighting off lions, hacking through dense underbrush, swatting mosquitoes; all while nursing a broken leg, missing arm, and a concussion sort of thing.

Don’t get me wrong. I think it’s grand fun.

But… (yes, there IS always a but)... But *grin* before we get to the big BUT, I give you this week's Whipped participants.

Author: Courtney Breazile

Fast bite, stinging delight....bring it down again.

About the Author: Courtney’s latest story, an F/F paranormal short story titled Lilly's Turn for a Rose will be available April 1st at extasybooks.com. Want a little taste? Check out her website. Or…stay up to date with all things Courtney on her Facebook Fan Page. See you all there!

Author: Christine Aisenberg

Its sweet creamy goodness; so light and airy, fluffy and that you can't take just one lick!

About the Author: Christine’s interests include reading and writing novels, Yankees baseball, baking, martinis and coffee. She also recently vacuumed her lawn. Yes, you read that right. Curious? Friend her on Facebook!

Author: Brett Williams

Milk, eggs, bread, there had to be something else, but what? Todd wondered as he stood waiting in line at the checkout counter, hoping his darling wife didn't think of another errand for him to do before he got home from work.

About the author: Brett Williams writes a brand of story that isn’t for everyone. While he pulls you in and tantalizes your mind, he also delves into settings not fit for the average reader. If you want a fun ride, and a chilling read, check out his stories at BrettWilliamsFiction, and be sure to friend him on Facebook to get a little glimpse into the person behind the stories.

A great big creamy steamy Thank You to all the participants this week. I hope everyone had a good time, and I'll see you...

What?

Oh, yeah… I mentioned a but.

Okay, like I was saying, I really do enjoy the Fast Friday episodes,

BUT

While Fast Friday has been entertaining, I do have a life outside this blog and staying up all hours of the night putting together a blog post that should be fairly easy to compile is burning me out.

I'm tired of fighting to get entries. Tired of watching the clock at 7:42PST wondering who will pull through at the last minute to make that week a success. Tired of creating titles, crafting blurbs, hunting down links at the last minute EVERY STINKING WEEK.

*Heather stops typing and takes a big breath*

Anyway, to get back to what I was saying before I went off on my little rant there…

I, Heather Wildman, glutton for punishment that I am—and apparently I really love all the beatings I take—refuse to give up. However, if you can’t beat the masses into submission, try a different tactic.

The New System:

Though I’ll still accept random entries by the deadline, I’ve decided all the begging, groveling, twisting of arms is wearing me out. What I will do instead is ask for a few volunteers to “opt in” and “sign up” for certain slots. That way, instead of coming up with a unique blurb for each entry each week, I’ll rotate the contributors in a permanent side bar slot. I’ll still post their website link in an about the author section, but that part of it will be on a much smaller scale.

So, I now hand this over to you, dear reader. If anyone wants to opt in, leave me a comment, shoot me an email, message me on Facebook, DM me on twitter, what have you. It’s now up to you to decide if Fast Friday lives or dies.

Because frankly, ladies and gentlemen,

I’M WHIPPED!

Monday? Is it Monday ALREADY? AUGH!

2010-03-15T08:36:00.000-07:00

Time flies. It surely does.

Look, it's already tomorrow!

I'm mildly tired, and just a tad groggy today. It's finals week, my birthday week, and pack and panic week.

I'm basically ready for my finals... well, except this paper which involves a lot of research and very little creativity *gag*.

My birthday? Meh. No biggie. Another day older and I gave up competing with St. Patrick's Day years ago. I mean really? How can *I* top that?

But...pack and panic week...

I'M SUPER EXCITED! I'm taking the bare minimum, stuffing it in as small a space as possible, and calling it good. MY FIRST PLANE RIDE! To a place I have never been, to hang out with a couple of great personalities.

This is HUGE for me. HUGE! And I'm dancing in my seat.

Then my mind starts dredging up plane ride horror stories.

What if my plane flies through a strange ribbon-like thing and no one exists on the other side but a bunch of things that try to eat me?

Okay, yeah... that's a little far out there.

What if a bunch of writhing, venomous asps escape from boxes in the cargo hold?

Okay, so that probably won't happen either.

But what if I start burping up eggs?

Oh... yeah, short trip. I probably won't be eating on the plane.

Anyway, enough of that crazy movie stuff. Here are a couple amusing clips I found. Thank you YouTube!

Fashionista Flight Attendant:

Pimpin' His Partner:

Just Like Happy Hour at the Comedy Club:

And...

A Parting Song:

Fast Friday: A Pint and a Poke

2010-03-12T07:39:00.000-08:00

What happens when a cereal box icon
Takes a day off?

Yes, in honor of My Birthday aka St. Patricks Day, this week's Fast Friday brings you a tad o' green, a bit o' fun, and of course a pint o' odd. And yes, I know that wins the prize for "most lame introduction ever written" but hey... what can I say?

Oh, I know! How about I make it up to you with something FREE. I'd hate to feel like I can't even GIVE AWAY my book, "Ebin's Heart", so hop on over to Culinary Carnivale where I've done a guest blog and posted a little scavenger hunt to give you fine folks the opportunity to WIN a FREE copy!

There will be another opportunity coming up on the 23rd, but right now I want to give away my story for my birthday! Better hurry! The winner will be picked on the 19th!

Now, for your enjoyment and mine, "Leprechaun one liners and pickup lines".

Author: Brett Williams

"Top o' the evening to ya. Me gots a big pot o' gold and an eye for lovely red-headed lasses such as yourself. How about we go back to my place and look for four-leaf clovers? Maybe we'll get lucky."

About the Author: Brett brings life to the ordinary, and makes reading extraordinary. You can find links to a few samplings of his stories on his WIP (Website in Progress), or you can friend him on Facebook, for regular updates on his projects. He'll also be appearing as my guest over at "The Smudge" in May. Stay tuned in to get your hands on a book of "seductiveistic" short stories, coming soon!

Author: Saranna DeWylde

Is that a pot of gold in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

I'd like to see what's at the end of *that* rainbow.

Get yer poke from the wee folk.

Oh, here's a tired one.

"Got any Irish in you? Want some?"

About the Author: Saranna DeWylde pens romance, erotica, and horror. Her book How To Lose A Demon in 10 Days will be on shelves in November 2010 from Dorchester Publishing! You can find out more about her on her website, and/or connect with her on MySpace, Facebook, and Twitter. Stay tuned. She’ll be back here in May to give the low down on all that jazz. Mwahaha!

Author: Charity Smith

Drop the rabbit's foot baby. Rub me and we'll both get lucky!

About the Author: Charity and I go back a long way... Kindergarten, I believe. We've both lost a bit of our youthful innocence, but she still has the power to split my sides with laughter. Stop on in at her blogs: Hidden Treasures of an Oddball Mind, and If I Were King of the Forest, for a little witty repertoire yourself.

I shall end the festivities with a few jokes from the lovely Janice Seagraves, who just happened to post these in the comments of a previous post and wish me a MIGHTY Happy Birthday! Take it away, Janice!

Q: What does a leprechaun call a happy man wearing green?
A: A Jolly Green Giant

Knock Knock
Who's there?
Irish!
Irish Who?
Irish you a happy St. Patrick's Day!

Q: Why do people wear shamrocks on St. Patrick's Day?
A: Regular rocks are too heavy.

Q: Why can't you borrow money from a leprechaun?
A: Because they're always a little short.

Q: Why do leprechauns have pots o'gold?
A: They like to "go" first class!

Q: How can you tell if an Irishman is having a good time?
A: He's Dublin over with laughter!

Q: What's Irish and stays out all night?
A: Patty O'furniture!

Q: How did the Irish Jig get started?
A: Too much to drink and not enough restrooms!

About the Author: Janice Seagraves grew up in a small California town, and married just out of high school. The writing bug hit her late at around twenty. Her art always drew her away from the characters in her head, but after being diagnosed with tendonitis she found doing art work painful. But she could still type, and she at last turned her full attention to writing.

She’s still lives in the same small town where she was born and grew up. Her home is a hundred year old haunted house, where she lives with her husband and daughter, three cats and a pet pigeon that is in love with her husband. Check out her website and blog, and be sure to stop by Pink Petal Books where her story Windswept Shores will be available in June.

That brings us to the end of the special St. Patrick's Day installment of Fast Friday here at my "Blahg".

Don't forget to check out Culinary Carnivale for a chance to win "Ebin's Heart". Then check out the schedule (calender link to the right) for upcoming guests, activities, and places you can find me when I'm not around my own little corner of the world.

And on that note, Drink, Burp, and be Merry... And try out a couple of these pick up lines.

Perhaps you, too, can get lucky!

Mad Monday: Guest Who?

2010-03-08T07:39:00.000-08:00

Peek-a-Boo

I see YOU!

If you missed my post over at "The Smudge", then you missed my big announcement about two lovely ladies who will be suffering a bit o' Heather probing during the month of April! Yep, two authors, two new releases, and a whole lot of fun.

But...

There's more!

Right here, on this very blog, during the same month of April.

I have a very special guest lined up whom I found to be probe worthy, and who smiled and promised to enjoy every minute of it. Mwahahaha!

Before I tell you who it is, I want you to take a look over to the left. No, no. You're other left, yes, right there. No, not you. Oh, pooh! <<<<<==== THAT left. See the section marked FAST FRIDAY? Yeah? Well, St. Patrick's Day is my birthday, and since I don't have any sinister plans on that day, I figured I'd share a bit of fun anyway. I'd like as many "Leprechaun One Liners" and "Leprechaun Pickup Lines" as possible, to share on this here "Blahg" for this week's Fast Friday post as a way to kick off my birthday week!

Also, tomorrow I'll be over at Lisa Leibow's Fodder For Fiction where I talk about the bare bones true to life story that served as the inspiration behind "Ebin's Heart".

What? Oh, yeah, right. Enough of me. Let's get to the guest.

Coming to this blog on April 12th, is a man who has written over fifty books, four of which are now on their way to becoming movies. He has 9 cats, a wonderful wife, a list of witty quips and quotes as long as my arm, and he likes to create characters that run around "Snick~snick~snick".

Give up?

Yes, it's the fantastic, Mr. Ray Garton! (Insert you very own fan girl squeal here...yes, you too boys LOL)

So, what do you not know about this man who likes to run with "Scissors"? What would you like to know? Come share in the fun on the 12th of April and help me pick his brain. *maniacal laughter* Yeah, I know. Not scary...

So, to recap.
     Leprechaun One Liners and Pickup Lines (bring em'!)
     Fodder For Fiction
   Fast Friday Post
     A couple weeks of waiting (while I go on vacation Mwahahaha!)
     Then... Yvonne Nicolas and Abby Wood over at "The Smudge"
     And... Ray Garton here at "The Blahg".

Got it?

Good!

Fast Friday: Excess BAGgage!

2010-03-05T06:49:00.000-08:00

Paper or Plasic?

Let's find out!

Ahh, what a fantastic Friday! Next week plans to be better. In honor of my BIRTHDAY/St. Patrick's day (yes, I get to COMPETE with that LOL), the new prompt is something a little festive. I want a leprechaun one liner. What do I mean? Mwahahaha!

A leprechaun walks into a bar... A leprechaun walks into a store... A leprechaun hits on a stripper... A leprechaun shoves his hands in his pockets... I don't care what the poor little guy DOES, I want to know what he says. Best leprechaun one liner or pick up line you can come up with!

And I better get lots. That's all I really want for my birthday! *wink*

~But for now, I give you~

~Wet paper baggage!~

Title: Perforated Personality
Author: Bryan Lee Peterson

He had that young smart-ass attitude about him, snarky, but he wasn't very good at it; you didn't need a lot to cut through his lack of wit, you could poke through with a finger.

About the Author: Writing and music and steampunk, oh my! What do these three things have in common? They are a few of the many sides to Bryan Lee Peterson. He's also doing a writing game. Want to find out more? Check out Mind of Bryan or catch up with him on Facebook or Twitter. Thanks Bryan!

Title: Fast Green
Author: Charity Smith

The environmentally conscious woman ran across the grocery store parking lot in the downpour.

About the Author: WOO HOO! The Oddball Mind is back! This political King of the Forest pulls no punches when it comes to going green. Forget paper, try Charity! And bring on the rain!

Title: Plopping Pills
Author: Avery Cooper

She ran for the bus clutching her just-filled drug prescription when she dropped the parcel into a puddle and, as the bus pulled away, watched its papery wrap soak up mud and what looked like a bit of oil, making that moment the rottenest cap on a perfectly rotten day.

About the Author: Also known as The Joggler in the blog circuit, Ms. Avery can make a bad day entertaining, and good days as well. She can be found on Facebook or Twitter, and check out her blog for information and fun in a wide array of topics and opportunities.

Title: Make it a Double
Author: Heather Wildman

A man with a grizzled-gray beard, matted hair, tattered clothes, and the foul smell of one who hasn’t bathed in who knows how long, sat between two large green dumpsters in the alley behind the liquor store and tipped up the bottle hidden by a thin layer of brown from which the soggy mass of once crisp new paper balled off onto his fingers with each pull from his alcohol friend—the only friend he had in the world—and he thought to himself as he reached for his hidden panhandling sign, “It’s about time for a new one. Yes, it’s ‘bout that time.”

About the Author: Want to find out more about me? I have two guest blogs coming up, one on March 9th (check out the Mad Lib style prompt she devised as this months fun writing game) and the other on March 23rd (this amazing woman has several months of great information by authors, artists and publishers lined up, with a new post daily!).

Yes this is me. I'm wishing for lots of leprechaun love.

Bring on the one liners. Due by March 11, 2010 at 8pm PST.

And I have faith, because...

You guys are the bestest!

SEE YOU ALL MONDAY!

Maaad Monday: For the Children

2010-03-01T09:48:00.000-08:00

I spent so much time planning and plotting my release date that I didn't think about what I would do after.

So, in honor of that brain-deaded-i-ness I give you a recycled Heather story from past posts.

But, before I let loose, I want to remind you that...

THE FAST FRIDAY PROMPT IS ALWAYS TO THE LEFT

This week: "WET PAPER BAG"

SEND ME SOMETHING!

mrwandttoo (at) hotmail (dot) com

DO IT!

And now back to the regularly scheduled randomness.

Because "Ebin's Heart" was born from the emotions that assailed me when I learned of my son's heart condition, and the onslaught of babysitting memories that poured out about how unfair life can be to children, I pulled up a story that—although portrayed as far-fetched and extreme—shows the potential for violence to beget violence.

*Though the violence portrayed in this story is not real, the emotions are.*

~Be an angel.~

~Child abuse hurts everyone. Ignoring it is just as bad. If you think it's not your problem...

think again.~

Angels and Innocence

Leona huddled in the corner of the room and tried to ignore the sound of the front window shattering. She missed her father. He'd been dead for years, but her step-father—he'd been around far too long. The bruises on her ribs still ached from the beating the day before, and the bump on her head throbbed painfully in warning. She should have left years ago—her body couldn't take much more of this. But she couldn't leave her mother to bear the brunt of his fury on her own.

The faint rustle of flexing wings brought a smile to her cracked lips. That was the sound of her guardian angel, though he was not an angel at all. It floated to her despite the raging bellows of the angry man now coming through the front door. The glass crunched beneath his boots. Leona braced herself. Her guardian was fast, but the drunk oaf had fury on his side, and she'd witnessed the power of his fury many times in the last seven years.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Tonight her guardian might well be the angel of death. She swallowed. It couldn't be, not tonight. Her mother would never survive without a buffer. If only...if only Leona had the means to break the prison of depression locked deep inside the lonely woman upstairs.

Glass crunched outside her bedroom door. Leona didn't care what happened to her, as long as that asshole stayed away from the stairs, away from the woman who had lost so much because of him—lost the little life growing inside her. She would never allow him to take anything else from the woman who'd sheltered her for so much of her young life.

God, she'd been so blind. Too blind to see that sometimes a person just had to believe in their angels. Sometimes bad things happened to bad people. Sometimes the victim just needed a helping hand.

A breeze rushed by her face. The windows were closed and the door had yet to creak open.

Believe...

That single inaudible word. She hadn't heard it since the night her six year old self stood before the man now hunting her, since the night she fell to the ground after his second blow. The night she lost the sight in her right eye, and learned just how weak her mother was. That night Leona had believed. She had listened to those words, and though her unborn sister had died at his hands, she survived. She and her mother.

Why should she listen now? What good had that word ever done her?

"Leona..." The sneer in his drunk voice made her heart jump in fear. "Where are you?"

Again she heard the rustle of feathers, and a breeze whispered across her cheek.

She reached down beside her and felt the bulky metal pipe, a nice heavy tee joint still attached to one end. A faint energy tingled against her hand.

"Believe." The echo of her voice gave her strength. Her fist closed around the pipe and she staggered to her feet.

"Believe." The knob turned and she lurched forward, setting her feet wide and taking up the batting stance she'd learned her two days in little league.

The door flew open.

"Believe," she cried out and swung the pipe hard.

The crunch of metal against flesh. Adrenaline rushed, and she hefted the pipe back into position.

"An eye for an eye," she screamed and swung again. He fell to his knees and threw his hands up in protection of his head.

She raised the pipe high over her head.

"A life for a life."

~It takes one punch to steal a child's innocence.~

~And three to dial 911.~
~Stop the cycle.~

Fast Friday: Which Floor, Please?

2010-02-26T08:16:00.000-08:00

I am on top of the world...

No thanks to the Elevator Music.

Yesterday was release day for Ebin's Heart! I've been waiting so long that when it finally arrived I felt like a dancer on the moon. The comment contest went fabulous! And I hope the Anonymous enjoy the story! Mwahahaha! Names have been excluded to protect... oh who am I kidding, they've been excluded because it's fun to poke fun at the "Anonymous" word that pops up when someone posts anonymously. :P

I didn't push too hard for Fast Friday entries since my big day fell on the due day for these, but two people still pulled through for me. HOO RAH!

As for me, I'm still riding on that bucking bronco cloud of elation and find it hard to think or type! So, sit back and enjoy the fun from the creators of single sentence worlds of Elevator Music

And when you're done here...

Pick up your copy of Ebin's Heart

only $3.99

at Red Rose Publishing!

Title: Lovers' Lullaby
Author: Brett Williams

His finger jabbed emergency stop, lips met, hands roamed, the only sound their beating hearts--and a light melody--the elevator, halted at penthouse level, belonged to them.

About the Author: Brett Williams paints a captivating picture through the fantastic use of everyday people in situations most tend to overlook. If you haven’t done so, be sure to look him up. He can be found via his website, or on Facebook. I highly recommend this book, Family Business, for those of you who wish to wander into the woeful web of Williams’ world of weird wonder.

Title: Final Performance
Author: Helayna Martinson

As the doors slid open with their signature electronic chime, Helga blanched at the sight of the entire Boston Pops Orchestra, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the sole remaining avenue out of the burning high rise; placing her helmet, with its genuine ivory horns and polished rivets of brass, firmly upon her flaxen-plaited head, she pressed her ample frame as far back against the mirrored walls as she could, took a deep breath, and began to sing.

About the Author: Critics are raving: "Helayna Martinson writes fiction reminiscent of classics like Buck Rogers in the 25th Century-- it's so bad, it's good! Or, if not good, then at least slightly above mediocre. Or, if not that, then at least its not as bad as Galactica 1980 or Santa Claus Versus The Martians. Which was improved immensely by late-80s commentary by two robots and a guy from Minnesota stuck on a runaway space station. It's just that good."

Title: Lost in Memories
Author: Heather Wildman

Lulled by the comforting tones of the music around her, her eyes drooped closed and she felt his hands roam—fingers and flesh burning with desire, tender yet lustful—but her uttered moan was cut short by the sound of shattering glassware and, with heat radiating from her cheeks, she dropped her hands from their inappropriate resting places on her chest, her eyes flew open and she looked in horror at the staring faces of the people surrounding her in the crowded restaurant.

About the Author: Go. Buy. Read. Ebin’s Heart. NOW! Or not. LOL.

A great big THANK YOU to

Brett Williams

Helayna Martinson

for making this week's Fast Friday possible!

Next week should be a blast! "Wet Paper Bag" is the prompt, which leaves a wide array of places an intelligent, smart, witty, awesome, fantastic, inspired, yadda, yadda, writer can take their imagination. On your toes PEOPLES, on your toes!

Come help me create!

I'll see "U" bright and early Monday morning!

(PST for bright eyed and bushy East Coast Folk wondering where the post is at 4 in the morning. *snort* That's a bit too early to me!)

Get your copy of "Ebin's Heart" this THURSDAY!

2010-02-22T10:05:00.000-08:00

The Time Has Come!

"Ebin's Heart"

by Heather Wildman

~Thursday February 25th, 2010~

The time has come, the week is here, the day I've been waiting for and preparing for and dancing about for the past few months has arrived, and to celebrate I give you one last teaser and an opportunity to win a copy of the story. All you have to do is read the excerpt below and leave a comment. I'll pick a lucky random winner from the bunch at 8pm PST on Wednesday February 24th. If only one person comments... WOO HOO for you! *wink*

You can find previous teasers here, here, and here.

And now, without further ado, I give you...

Ebin's Heart~Excerpt Chapter 13

Eiva closed her eyes as the man shoved her to the bed and straddled her. His knife hovered over her throat.

“Ah, disobedient one, you have destroyed that poor woman upstairs and still you are not repentant for your sins.” He moved the knife to her shoulder and pierced her flesh. Eiva screamed again. She did not want this, had not asked for this. Why was she being punished?

“See, that’s better. What now?” He slid the cold steel of the blade along her collarbone to her chest. “Here? Is this what you want?”

Suddenly she didn’t care, and she opened her eyes to look up at him. If the Gods hated her this much then, damn it, she would find a way to make this man end her life so she could say a few choice words to the ‘ethereal ones’ about the way they toyed with people.

“You don’t have the guts!” Venom ripped from her throat. All her years of abuse and pain came out in that one sentence. Fuck him! She spat in his face.

His expression changed from malice to shock, then anger blazed in his eyes.

“Why you little...” He lifted his knife.

She saw movement behind him. Her eyes widened.

“Ebin...”

The knife came down.

Ebin's Heart by Heather Wildman

Available Thursday February 25, 2010

From Red Rose Publishing.

Fast Friday: Of All the Dumb Luck

2010-02-19T05:13:00.000-08:00

Tough Luck,

The Power Button on the Roller Coaster of Life

It's apparently been a busy week for all of us. I know my life has been mildly chaotic with behind the scenes stuff; and I'm sure yours, Dear Reader, has been too.

I'm proud to say I got all three entries this week. I was sweating it there for a bit, and I REALLY APPRECIATE the effort these fine folks have put into this week after week. If not for them I would have given up before I started. Thanks, guys! I don't know about you, but I have fun with this!

And now, without further babbling on my part, I give you The Lucky Four!

Title: In a Handbasket
Author: Helayna Martinson

As he sat in his banana yellow 1980 Chevette, its electrical system shooting out a few feeble final sparks, with the County Sheriff's significantly underaged daughter on his lap and 2/3 of a six pack in empty bottles on the passenger-side floorboard, listening to the wail of sirens growing ever closer and staring resolutely at both the train tracks that spread towards the horizon from beneath either side of his car and the 9:15 Amtrak bearing down on him along those same tracks, Mr. Strikes knew without a doubt that he'd been horribly misnamed.

About the Author: Helayna Martinson thrives on the dual addictions of cautiously controlled chaos and making Heather Wildman's life just-that-much-more complicated by submitting barely readable prose each week.

Title: Happenstance
Author: Brett Williams

Bill cursed when the loose horseshoe fell from above the door and conked him on the noggin.

About the Author: Brett Williams write strange and unusual stories that appeal to a variety of unsuspecting victims, er… readers. He offers well defined yet unusual characters, set in original story lines that both titillate and make one think. You can find his stories here and here or visit his website. For updates and info, he can also be found on Facebook or Twitter.

Title: How Charming!
Author: Charity Smith

On charms, ducks, weeds, and rodent's feet, we have bestowed this element, and through some untraceable form of logic we rub and carry.

About the Author: Charity Smith is a world renowned author… oh, wait… scratch that… She may not be world renowned, but she does have a Facebook profile and two blogs: King of the Forest (for political ramblings) and Oddball Mind (more for everyday tomfoolery), be sure to check them out! Charity Smith is also an exceptional friend, who despite her chaotically busy life stepped up and gave me the third entry I needed! KUDOS TO YOU THIS WEEK, CHARITY!

Title: Lucky Love
Author: Heather Wildman

The young girl scooped the fluffy little bundle into her arms, looked up at her momma and begged, “Please, momma, please, please, please?” in her childish voice—her innocent eyes silently arguing that she should love and protect this little guy who’d darted from the butcher’s shop chased by a broom, barely dodged huge metal monsters as he careened through traffic with his tail between his legs, and ended his run right there in front of her, piddling on the sidewalk and shaking—before adding the words that cinched the deal, “I already have the perfect name,” and how could a mom say no to that?

About the Author: Ebin’s Heart will soon be released through Red Rose Publishing. Stay tuned for more details, and be sure to read the excerpts here, here and here.

I'll see you all Monday!

MAD MONDAY: Ebin's Heart ~ When Love Blossoms

2010-02-15T05:45:00.000-08:00

Happy Day After Valentine's Day!

Yesterday, having enjoyed a lovely little Sunday, I posted a few scribbles from my childhood over at the Smudged portion of my world. As much fun as it is to see how I've grown and just how far I've come in embracing my love of all things scribble, I decided I needed to post a more modern scribble for lovers to enjoy.

So, in honor of that love/hate holiday, and it is a love/hate holiday...

I bring to you a scene between the two main characters from Ebin's Heart, my little tale of two ostracized people that is due out in just over a week! *happy dance*

Yeah, yeah, I know. You big tough manly guys are all saying, "Ewwwwwwww." *shrug* What can I say, I'm female! Mwahahaha!

So, without further ado... I turn the stage over to Ebin and Eiva.

Enjoy!

Ebin's Heart

Excerpt from Chapter 9

Eiva stood on the ledge just outside the entrance of the cave and watched the sunset. Ebin thought she looked beautiful in the red-orange light. He sat the stew-filled bowl on the floor as he glanced up at her. She looked back at him.

“Come see this, Ebin. It’s amazing!”

Ebin couldn’t agree more. As the sun sank behind the tree-lined horizon the color deepened, and reflected off her white complexion. Her hair glowed a shade of violet-red, and her white skin looked angelic framed by the brilliance of the sky. He still knelt in a crouch and found it fitting that he should be bowing before such a Goddess of a woman. Her green eyes sparkled. She held him mesmerized.

“Ebin? Are you coming?” She waved him over.

He stood as she turned away from him and back to the view.

Ebin stared as he walked to her. He slid his hands around her hips and rested his chin on her shoulder.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” She turned her head and looked into his eyes.

“I’ve never seen anything more breathtaking,” he said staring into the emerald pools before him.

Before he could stop himself, his lips pressed to hers. Soft and sensual. Oh Gods, how he ached for her. He ran his tongue over her delicate mouth, a gasp escaped her as her lips parted slightly and he delved deeper, relishing her taste. He pulled his body back from hers, never losing the kiss, turning her in his arms. Damn, how he had wanted this. He’d waited so long, but he would not take from Eiva.

She curled into his embrace, and pressed deeper into the kiss. Again he edged his tongue into her mouth. Please don’t let her pull away. He never wanted this to end. She shivered, and her mouth moved away from his. He uttered a muffled curse.

“I’m cold, Ebin,” she whispered in her silky voice against his ear. He held her close and led her back into the cave. He sank onto the furs, pulling her down across his lap and slipping his arm around her to hold her close. She rested her head on his shoulder. Would she panic if he kissed her again? He couldn’t risk it. Someday she would give herself to him. He could wait.

She lifted her head to look at him, then cupped his face in her hands.

"Oh Gods, Ebin. That was beautiful."

Yes, it had been beautiful, but the cold had stopped it from becoming divine.

Coming February 25 from Red Rose Publishing

Fast Friday: Melty, Creamy Goodness.

2010-02-11T22:02:00.000-08:00

Six more weeks of winter???

Let's celebrate with ICE CREAM!

Silly Hedgehog. All you "groundhog" folk get six weeks of winter and purdy white stuff. Here in Western Oregon, Jabari the African hedgehog says we get six more weeks of winter and... well... we just have nine months of rain and 3 months of a mix of cloudy and sunny no matter what the prediction is. But the video is super cute.

Now that I've wet your whistle with the rainy sob story, I'm going to go dish me up a bowl of ice cold comfort food and allow the first entrant to introduce this week's prompt.

Title: I. You. We.

Author: Charity Smith

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! (I scream)."

About the Author: Are you always pointing fingers? Do you not hesitate to mention when something bothers you? Don’t you know that whenever you point, there are three fingers pointing back at you? Charity Smith has figured out how to get around that. She doesn’t point fingers; she backhands you with wit and opinion. If she were king, she’d have an oddball mind. And there you have them!

Title: Hot Cross Sun
Author: Avery Cooper

The hot sun was full of mockery as it melted my cool-on-the-tongue treat.

About the Author: Got writers’ block? Caffeine withdrawals? Avery Cooper has your answers in Week 5 of her writing project gone awry. It’s the snow, I tell ya’, the snow. But does Avery agree?

Title: The Tongue Tango
Author: Saranna DeWylde

A cold, frigid bitch; creamy as she surrenders to the heat of your mouth, sweet as it melts on the tongue.

About the Author: The Amazon Goddess of Doom has it all—Facebook, Myspace, Twitter, and is a regular contributor at two blogs… one about sheets (or at least what happens between them) and one about food (yeah… food…uh huh, uh huh). If you are into a sadistic amount of sensual strangeness, hop on Saranna DeWylde’s bandwagon. I’m already there!

Title: Sweet Desire

Author: Christine Aisenberg

I'd love to wrap my lips around that hard cone topped with that soft, luscious, frosty, sweet, delectable treat!

About the Author: A happily married, stay-at-home mom of two awesome sons, Christine has a BA in English/Literature with a minor in Psychology from Brooklyn College and is currently residing in NJ. She spent three years working with Poet Allen Ginsberg on the FCC 24-hour Radio Ban while in college. Want to learn more about Christine? Friend her on Facebook!

Title: Savory Samplings
Author: Brett Williams

Holding it firm and running her tongue along its edge, Tiffany lapped up the delicious goo, and decided she should indulge more often.

About the Author: This man has messed around with the Family Business, is open during construction, and makes the best cookies! Don’t keep him on the back burner… give him a place on the top shelf!

And now a winter-ific variation.

Title: Dig In!

Author: Helayna Martinson

The pickaxe long since shattered, Sir Edmund "Bubba" Fitzgerald, discoverer of the Deep South, excavator of the English North, and archeologist of the Ancient Antarctic, using little more than teeth and toenails, finally freed from its centuries-old grave among the glaciers of the Hungarian Alps the singular prize that would validate his quest once and for all in the horn-rimmed eyes of his peers: Zsa Zsa's World Famous As-Seen-On-TV Beauty-Building Body Butter.

Helayna Martinson's Writing: Proof positive that working with first-graders will make you insane, if only you let it.

Mmmm... there's nothing like a group of sultry innuendos and a bowl of Moose Tracks® flavored ice cream to take away the rainy day blues! Unfortunately, we have come to the end of this post. Instead of my usual banter, I shall leave you with this:

Title: I’m Outta Here.
Author: Heather Wildman

After a long weekend of chilling with my BFF, we were winding down in the kitchen—me against the counter, he standing before the sweetest thing in the house—when suddenly he looked up, spoon in hand, and asked, “One scoop, or two?” to which I promptly replied, “None, it’s a Sunday. I gotta split!”

Psst! Don't forget to check the left side bar for this week's prompt. You too, can have a bit of fun!

MAD Monday: Do you really want this post?

2010-02-08T05:31:00.000-08:00

Your Touchdown is my Fumble...

Good day, valued handful of readers.

I hope everyone had a fantastic Superbowl Sunday

Useless tidbit about Heather: Heather has no TV. Her family doesn't watch TV. We read, the boys play with the neighbor kids, I write.

So, guess what I did on Superbowl Sunday?

I worked on my blogs.

I posted a blog over at Smudged Sanity about the effort I put into my blogs and how pointless it feels at times. Go enjoy that one. Or... work on a FAST FRIDAY entry based on the prompt "Ice Cream" so Friday's post has a variety of flavor.

As for me...

I'M TAKING THE DANGED DAY OFF! MWAHAHAHA!

Fast Friday: No strings attached!

2010-02-04T23:21:00.000-08:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls...

Please put away your strings.

The show must go on.

Another week has come and gone, and after the Groundhog Day fun here on Tuesday I really didn't expect to have my fabulous four once again come through for me. But they did!

So, without any more of my insane blathering and banter, I give you...

Puppet Friday!

Cue the music maestro!

Title: String Beings
Author: Charity Smith

"Oh, Pinnochio! How I envy you your stringless state!"

About the Author: First up for the Fabulous Four, Charity Smith has come through week in and week out like a dancing marionette that is all spine and no strings. For a bit more free spirit, check out her blogs at Hidden Treasures from an Oddball Mind and If I Were King of the Forest. THANK YOU, Charity!

Title: Art of the Heart
Author: Avery Cooper

"You direct this dance, pull me this way and that, and I wonder when you'll drop me and just how hard I'm going to fall."

About the Author: Up next in the Fabulous Four is Avery Cooper. This is one woman who serves as inspiration and motivation, though she may not know it. Be sure to hop on over and check out her blog. I found the post on short stories quite enlightening! THANKS for your support, Avery!

Title: Behind the Scenes
Author: Helayna Martinson

Looking at the prompt Ms. Wildman had written on the board, I knew that it would only be a matter of time before her inbox would be filled with less-than-veiled references to creepy performers and their hands, which linger in places where the sun rarely shines.

About the Author: Third up of the Fabulous Four is Helayna Martinson. Helayna Martinson is a full-time student whose long-term financial planning goals (still) include paying her way through college by winning the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. Any one of these entries may just be her ticket to the big time... Lady, your entries always crack me up. Keep 'em comin'. THANK YOU, Helayna!

Title: The Final Act
Author: Brett Williams

Kira smiled, knowing the way she made love to him, pleased him, he had no choice but cater to her every whim.

About the Author: Brett Williams is number four in today’s Fabulous Four. His story Family Business is a must read, and be sure to check here for links to other Brett Williams stories. Brett, THANK YOU!

Title: A Single Performance
Author: Heather Wildman

The curtain of darkness rises as the sun peeks over the horizon, inspiring an appreciative peep from a lonely bird as the day builds to a crescendo with a captive audience moving to and fro until the lone performer ends his dance by disappearing stage left as the curtain falls once more, and the world becomes an after-party.

About the Author: Pthhhhbth. Sorry, I just tried to read that in one breath. You can find all Heather Wildman's links right... over... there. <<=======>> (Yes, silly! There IS fun stuff on BOTH sides!)

What fun! I hope you, valued reader and potential new Fast Friday entrant, enjoyed that as much as I did. Next week's prompt can now be found under the "Fast Friday" section in the <<===LEFT column. It's quite tasty, if I do say so myself. If you wait too long, it'll be GONE! Mwahahaha!

Wow, would you look at that! My ramblings are short and sweet this week. The Groundhog Day Blog Hop wore me out. Well, that and other things that have been happening behind the scenes. Stay tuned, however. I'm sure this not-so-long-winded-iness will dissipate soon enough. *GRIN*

And on that note, I call this performance OFFICIALLY

closed for business.

Mr. Groundhog Presents: A corpse, a cop, and some canines

2010-02-02T00:00:00.000-08:00

Another year has come and gone and today is the day our dear friend "Punxsutawney Phill" shall determine whether or not we suffer another 6 weeks of winter. Or so says "Punxsutawney Phill-osophy". Really, though, I give winter two thumbs up. You can stick them where you want, in the air or....

Personally, I like winter. I love the snow (all three minutes of it that we get here *sigh*), I love the time I get to spend with my children during winter break, and I love that it makes me more appreciative of the warmer and brighter months.

I have, however, had about enough of this bleak Pacific Northwest weather. Moody gray clouds, thick and lingering, stifling and maddening, driving me to the brink of insanity...

And because of that I feel the need for an escape. So this year, thanks to dear Dhympna over at Ye Olde Culinary Carnivale, a group of writers came together and played a game of story tag. My part is chapter eight. If you haven't already done so, be sure to follow this adventure from the beginning!

Start here==> Chapter One by Alanna Coca and follow the links at the end of each section.

Chapter 2: Dee Carney

Chapter 3: Juniper Bell

Chapter 4: Ann Marie Gamble

Chapter 5: Barbara Sheridan

Chapter 6: Christopher Daley

Once you get done reading Chapter Seven by Ray Garton return to my blog and scroll down to my section which starts below.

Hope you have a blast, and I'll see you back here again in a bit!

~A Corpse, A Cop, and Some Canines~
Chapter 8 – Heather Wildman

The power tool came in the form of a high-velocity large-caliber silver bullet. It fucked Xerxes alright, fucked him straight to hell. He fell in a heap beside the corpse of the cat as a storm of bullets rained around them. The hell hound went down next.

Jessica sat huddled in a ball in the bushes. She knew better than to get in the way of a bullet doing its job, especially when surrounded by several tons of fur and teeth. She shuddered, hugged herself tight and watched the scene play out before her.

Wolves scattered in all directions, falling to the ground in lifeless heaps one after another under the expert marksmen on the bank above. A sudden rush of hot breath on her neck brought a scream to her throat, but the strong hand that covered her mouth stopped it short.

“Shhh,” growled the voice in her ear. “It’s Anthony. Be very quiet and don’t move.”

Her heart pounded. Anthony, sweet Anthony. She rested her hand on his leg and traced a nail over his firm thigh. His hand squeezed her cheeks then his grip loosened and he slid his fingers down her chest. Jessica turned in his arms.

“Oh, God,” she murmured, burying her face in his neck and pressing close. “I thought I was going to die.” She let out a quiet sob.

“Never.” He stroked her hair and cradled her in his arms.

Her fingers wound round the hilt of the small silver dagger and slipped it from the inconspicuous leather sheath bound to her ankle beneath her sock.

“Oh, my sweet Sixkiller,” she mumbled against his flesh, giving a gentle nip. “Don’t ever let me go.”

“I won’t, once we get out of here.” He held her out at arm's length, and in that instant, Jessica plunged the blade into his chest.

The man’s scream echoed in the surrounding emptiness. She pulled it from him, and plunged it deep a second time. The scream became a gurgling cry. Blood frothed on his lips, and he slumped into her arms, his mouth forming a single word.

“Why?”

Jessica grinned. Oh those poor pathetic beasts. They would never see humans as anything more than helpless beings. What had Anthony said? A mortal? A dabbler? Who was the last one standing, now? Helpless? She laughed.

“Jess? Jessica?” The strong familiar masculine voice echoed down from the bluff. She smiled, her body reacting to his call. She pressed her legs together against her desire.

“Down here, Merle.” She called up to him.

Soon. Soon she would be at home, ravaging the man she had laid claim to, the man who shared her life and her passion for hunting beasts that thought themselves better.

Soon she would wrap herself around him, celebrate another victory for humankind.

But first, they had to pay a visit to Dexter Manning.

Want to see what happens next?
Hop on over to Culinary Carnivale where Saranna De Wylde rounds off this story with her usual Saranna flare. Mwahahaha!

Chapter 9 The Final Episode: Saranna De Wylde

Don't keep her waiting lest she stomp you with her Amazon Goddess heels of DOOM!

Fast Friday: Hide and seek

2010-01-29T07:57:00.000-08:00

It's a mystery, it's a game,

But the fun of it is, it's never the same...

Why, yes... Yes this week's prompt was indeed inspired by the release of Weirdly 3 through Wild Child Publishing. And YES it IS available for purchase now! Great stories, go check them out...

After today's installment of Fast Friday, that is.

Title: Huntin’ Wabbit

Author: Brett Williams

"Ah'll git dat dadgum jackalope iffin it's da last thing Ah do," muttered Cletus as he set out a fifth of Wild Turkey and a pile of greens on a nearby tree stump, shotgun by his side.

About the Author: Any writer worth their salt is a reader. Brett Williams enjoys reading as much as he loves writing. Be sure to stop by and check out his fiction at BrettWilliamsFiction, New Bedlam, and for a limited time, get a signed copy of his book "Family Business".

Title: Running in Circles
Author: Helayna Martinson

He stole a quick glance behind him; sure enough, it swiftly slipped from view, mocking him by its dogged dodging... left, right, left, right, and yet again to the left, never once slowing enough for him to catch it and, having satisfied his life's ambition, settle down to a good night's sleep in his basket by the kitchen door.

About the Author: Helayna Martinson is a full-time student whose long-term financial planning goals include paying her way through college by winning the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest.

Title: Drawing Blanks
Author: Charity Smith

Try as she might, she couldn't seem to come up with a good sentence for her friend.

About the Author: A well-rationed combination of opinion and humor make Charity Smith a rather interesting individual. Her “Oddball” side is full of random wit, or you can become her subject over at “King of the Forest”. Of course, you can also hit her up on Facebook, but be warned, she bites! Mwahahaha!

Title: Mending Madness

Author: Heather Wildman

While mending the Emperor’s no longer new clothes, the seamstress suddenly realized she’d lost a button and muttered, “Fool, my ass! How the hell am I supposed to find something that doesn’t really exist?”

About the Author: If you missed "Creatures of the Night", now is your opportunity to get in on that Heather action. Go pick up your copy of "Weirdly 3" from Wild Child Publishing today!

Thanks to all who sent me sentences. You guys are awesome!

It was suggested I change the word each Friday to give those people who don't have time during the week a chance to create such masterpieces, so I think I'm going to give that a shot. This Monday thing doesn't seem to be working well AT ALL.

So... for all those who just "didn't have the time" before...

I'M GIVING YOU AN ENTIRE WEEKEND OF EXTRA TIME!!!

Can I get a HOO RAH?

And sentences, please! Don't forget the sentences!

See you all Monday!

MAD Monday: Weirdly 3 plus an excerpt from Ebin's Heart

2010-01-25T06:36:00.000-08:00

OUT TOMORROW

~ Weirdly: Volume 3 ~

Set to be released January, 26 2010, "Weirdly 3" is a collection of short stories from the deranged minds of the fourteen people listed on the cover above. Four of my short stories appear within its pages. From magic mirrors to playdough monsters, a coma patient to the second coming, these four stories fit in well among the insanity that surrounds them.

Be sure to stop by WildChildPublishing tomorrow to pick up your copy!

Also, before you leave, check out the Fast Friday prompt in the box to the left. I look forward to reading the responses!

And now, another excerpt from Ebin's Heart, coming February 25, 2010 from Red Rose Publishing! Find a previous excerpt here.

EBIN'S HEART

Excerpt from Chapter 10

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Kneeling next to the bundle of furs, he reached out and gave a tentative nudge. The pile of blankets moved under his hand with little resistance. What…?

He pulled back the top cover. Bundled below were the rest of the pelts.

Ebin panicked. He tore through layer after layer, tossing them wherever they landed. When he grabbed the bottom layer, he stopped cold. A sticky mess coated his right hand. He dropped the fur and stared at the red slime on his fingers. Shock and panic filled him as recognition dawned.

Someone had been here. Someone had hurt his Eiva.

He swallowed the lump that threatened to cut off his breath, and rushed out the door. She couldn’t be far.

He looked out over the land from the entrance of the cave, but saw no sign of anyone.

He ran down the path. No one should be able to move as fast as him over this terrain. He looked for any hint of movement, anything that would indicate recent activity. Nothing.

Here and there he found a sign that something passed that way, but each one turned out to be those of animals, a patch of fur stuck in a broken branch, or animal tracks marking the potential route.

Ebin fought to breathe. He couldn’t allow his fear for her to control his body. He had to find Eiva!

Having exhausted all other possibilities, he headed in the direction of the town.

Fast Friday: You're goin' down, Worm!

2010-01-20T17:52:00.000-08:00

There's something fishy about this game...

Did you bring your gear? Are you ready to get down and dirty in a not so level playing field? Whether fishing or football, tackle is something needed to bring it to the limit. This week, four fine folks put their skills on the line and threw out their take on this word.

Do you see what they saw?

Title: Dance of the Fisherman
Author: Nika Dixon

The solitary echo of a northern loon floated across the flat glass surface of the lake; a solo accompaniment to the swirl of Tom's index finger as he sifted through his box of fishing lures, seeking the perfect partner for his dew worm.

About the Author: Nika Dixon is an award winning author, adventurer, and alpha-male addict. Nika writes primarily romantic suspense, but she is also a lover of sci-fi and paranormal. Find Nika on Twitter or check out her site for information on her books and writing.

Title: De-Baiting
Author: Avery Cooper

She held the artificial bug by one synthetic wing and wondered as she looked at the fishing line: how the hell does it go on?

About the Author: Avery Cooper: Writer, coffee drinker, alter ego extraordinaire. To quote her, she's "The first Newfoundland & Labrador entrant" in Coffee Shop Author. Follow her on Twitter or hit her up on Facebook, and definitely be sure to find out more about her writing escapades through her blog. She's hooked me!

Title: Boys and Their Toys
Author: Charity Smith

Who knew fishing and football had so much in common?
(*part 2: Charity wasn't entirely happy with the first one and wrote another. THANKS, Charity!)
I didn't know fishing was such a violent sport.

About the Author: Also known as Blazing Goddess in the blogging world, Charity Smith likes to light a fire under you know where when it comes to her insights. If you haven’t already done so be sure to check out Hidden Treasures of an Oddball Mind. Prefer subtle politics to random musings? Then don’t go here. She’s not subtle at all! Bwahaha!

Title: The Wrong Box
Author: Brett Williams

After buying a puppy, Joe went to the bait shop for a lure and a six pack but ended up with crabs.

About the Author: If you haven’t read Brett’s story Family Business, I recommend you do so. It gives a whole new twist to this sentence. Though not for everyone (notice his response had nothing to do with football, or a lovefest in a field of daisies), I highly recommend this read. Yes, I do have this book in my collection. It’s definitely a page-turner. I couldn’t put it down!

And one from me:
Author: Heather Wildman
Title: Foul Play

“OWWWW!” she cried, pressed tenderly at her bruised rib then slammed her fist into her younger brother’s arm, punctuating the punch with, “Dad said tickle! Use your ears next time, JERK!”

A great big thank you to all the participants this week! Be sure to check back Monday for a brand new prompt, as well as another excerpt from Ebin's Heart.

See you all then!

MAD MONDAY: Ebin's Heart excerpt.

2010-01-18T06:56:00.000-08:00

Happy Monday, everyone!

Don't forget to check the prompt for this week's Fast Friday challenge! To find examples of what I'm looking for, follow the link to the original Fast Friday post, and browse the last two Fast Friday blog posts here and here.

Not too long ago, I promised excerpts of Ebin's Heart, my story soon to be released through Red Rose Publishing.

Today, I would like to give a little background on the main character, Ebin. The following excerpt is taken from the prologue of Ebin's Heart. If you haven't already done so, I recommend you read the blurb.

EBIN'S HEART

Prologue Excerpt

The bitter taste of vomit filled her mouth, but she shoved the blade into him once more. The child had stopped screaming, it seemed to be used to the pain. It wasn’t right. No one should be used to pain at such a young age.

Taking a deep breath, she plunged the knife in for the fifth death.

The child lay limp. Blanka could hardly see through the tears.

Twice more, to fulfill her obligation to the law, she could do it, she had no choice. Only two more times. She brought the knife down again. More blood splattered onto her pale flesh, blood as red as hers. Tears blinded her, and she wiped her eyes savagely on her sleeves.

The child stared up at her with big, blue eyes that differed from her own only in color and brightness. He seemed to know this was something she had to do.

Why? Why did she have to do this? What was wrong with having a colored child? Why were these children evil? She threw the knife away. It landed not far from her, slid across the floor and slammed into the wall.

She stared at the child again. Then, struggling against exhaustion, she pushed herself up off the floor and scooped him up in her arms. His eyes were swollen from crying. She reached out and smoothed away his tears. The silky-soft flesh startled her. With a gentle touch, she traced the line of his jaw, then down his arm to his fingers. He was so tiny and fragile. How could he be a threat to anyone? She reached his palm, and her boy cooed then gripped her finger. Her heart threatened to burst inside her. She couldn’t kill her own son. It didn’t matter what he was.

Blanka let out a sigh. Allowing a colored child to live was forbidden. Hiding him could result in her own death as well. She chewed her lip. There had to be a way to spare his life without putting them both at risk. What if she dumped him at the abandoned barn the next farm over? No, people would find him. Anywhere within the sun-shield guaranteed his certain death. What about outside that protection? The pigment of his complexion might be enough to ward off the burning, blistering effects the sun had on her people. If she took him outside the protective energy field, he may have a chance at life. She looked down at the helpless bundle in her arms. He would never survive out there alone. Not yet.

She’d raise him and care for him, and when the time came that he was old enough to fend for himself, she would take him into the wilds of the mountain and hide him there. Albino people never went to the mountains.

She cleaned his wounds and put his mouth to her pale pink nipple.

“Eat and grow,” she whispered, “You must be strong to survive in this world.”

He fell asleep nursing, and she laid him in her bed.

Under the spray of the shower, she cleaned his blood from her pure, white skin. She got out and dressed in a clean robe, her child still sleeping on the bed.

He needed a name. She couldn’t give him a proud Albino name, he wasn’t white. His pigmented skin, coal black hair, and blue eyes symbolized everything her people weren’t.

“Evil and dark, that’s what you are. Ebony…Ebin...” She shook her head. “That’s what I will call you.”

She lay down next to her son, her “Ebin.”

Fast Friday: My Job Sucks!

2010-01-15T10:57:00.000-08:00

Tap tap tap on the keyboard... Nudging glasses up my nose...
I am NOT your SECRETARY!

Welcome to the second installment of Fast Friday!

I had fun last week reading two entries, then begging and bribing my friends to send me sentences to get me to that elusive third. I didn't have to push too hard. My friends are wonderful people and I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world, especially not fame and fortune. It's the support of those close to me that make the time and effort I put into this all worthwhile. Little things...

My "job" this week was more of a goal: to get at least three entries for this prompt. Unfortunately, I only received two, but I'm good and managed to wrangle a third from a very creative person whom I've always been able to rely on.

To the rest of you I say "SLACKERS!"

Now... Let's see what kind of chaos we came up with this week!

Title: "Doing" My Duty
Author: Brett Williams

Coffee, donuts, file this, find that, take care of his dry cleaning, the boss doesn't respect what I do, even when I do him on late nights after long meetings and stain my blouse--Argh!--the life of an "office assistant," yeah right!

About the Author: Brett Williams pulls no punches when it comes to his writing. His characters are unusual and compelling, and his plots keep readers on their toes. You can find him on Twitter and Facebook, or get a taste of his writing here. Grab a cookie, pour some milk, and enjoy a Brett story today!

Title: Put it on My Desk
Author: Charity Smith

She found it bitterly ironic that an antique piece of furniture and she shared the same occupation.

About the Author: Charity Smith, reporter of world news… er… kidding. Let’s start again. Charity has a kind of humor that isn’t for everyone. Snark, wit, and a decidedly strong point of view make for some interesting reading in her blog. I highly recommend it, even if your views differ. An open mind is a full mind.

Title: File Under Blackmail
Author: Heather Wildman

Standing there disheveled, wearing little more than a ponytail and huge framed glasses; I became slightly concerned as my boss-- ignoring his loose-hanging tie and unbuttoned shirt--rested his arms on the desk, leaned forward, and whispered, “Can you keep a secret, Terry?”

About the Author: DUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I'm nothing if not dependable. Who did you think I was talking about when I said I found someone creative and reliable?

While I didn’t get three entries this week, I applaud the two who sent me something. Fun is fun, and since people don’t seem to like the idea of working for a brief snippet of promotion, I’ll simply start begging.

Or not. At least not yet anyway.

What I will do, is pick writers I like and bug the crap out of them until they participate. Okay, so maybe I’ll just ask politely once, then assume they are too good for my silly little blog or they have no sense of humor, or they're just an ass… which will have no effect on whether or not I like their writing or whether or not I read their stuff, so I guess ignoring me is always an option. HA!

If I don’t contact you, PLEASE don’t assume I think your writing sucks, maybe I just don’t know you exist because YOU DIDN’T SEND ME A FAST FRIDAY ENTRY. (Hint, hint. Nudge, nudge.)

So… if you don’t want to be bothered by a silly scribbler asking for a tidbit, stop by bright and early Monday for the prompt then send me a sentence.

Two minutes, fun times, Fast Friday!

See you next week!

MAAAAAD Monday

2010-01-11T10:16:00.000-08:00

Ahhh, welcome to MAAAAAD Monday. Mondays are crazy enough and here I go adding to them. Lucky you.

But at least you aren't having a day like THIS:

Don't Forget:
If you look to the left you will see, as promised, a new prompt.

Fast Friday. One sentence. Free promo.

Not limited to writers. Deadline is this Thursday at 8pm PST.

New News:

Weirdly 3 is set to be released January 26th through Wild Child Publishing.

If you want a sneak peek, check out the cover. You can also find the first Weirdly book available here, and the second can be purchased by following this link. I'll be posting a link to the third installment as soon as it's available.

Future Plans:
Stay tuned for an excerpt from Ebin's Heart coming SOON.

Deadlines for Readers:
While you're waiting for my stories to come available, if you haven't already done so, hop on over to NewBedlam and read my short story "When Good Limbs Die". This story is listed over at the P&E Readers poll so if you feel like voting go for it.

Polls Close the 14th

No I'm not going to get all humphy if you don't vote for mine. I'd rather have honest readers than friendly voters.

And on that note, I'll let you get back to your normally scheduled Monday Moping.

Fast Friday: The Macaroni Massacre

2010-01-08T00:05:00.000-08:00

A challenge has been issued. One involving food.
Why?
Perhaps I was hungry.

Now, no laughing at the image above. I had those crazy preschoolers in my head--you know, those silly kids that were gluing the pasta on the paper in the original Fast Friday post--paste the noodles in the paint program because my own visually creative ability is rather lacking.

But enough poking fun at my artistic skill. Without further ado I give you the wonderful “victimeers” who stepped up and let that elbow macaroni simmer in a bit of their creative juices.

First up is a lady who jumped right in and became the inaugural participant!

THANK YOU COURTNEY!

Author: Courtney Breazile

Bent and hollow, floating among its brothers in boiling water, destined for my stomach.

About the author: I'm Courtney Breazile, author and blog talk radio host. I live in North Idaho with my husband and two daughters. I love to read, write and soak up the sun. Check me out here.

Read to Escape.

Author: Charity Smith

For dinner we ate pivot joints of the pasta variety.

About the author: Charity's as varied as the elbow mac entries here today. Over at her blog you will find all sorts of humor, intelligence, and wit.

Author: Brett Williams

"Guess what this is, Ma," the boy said, laughing, with his arm in his plate of cheesy pasta.

About the author: Brett Williams. I write. www.BrettWilliamsFiction.com

Author: Helayna Martinson

Title: The Flavor of the Month...

The critic lifted the fork to her mouth and began, tentatively at first, then with more gusto, to chew; the pasta had a tart, almost sanguine flavor to it, but it wasn't until she noticed the sous chef's empty right sleeve, pinned unobtrusively upon itself, that she began to suspect the truth.

Helayna: Blurb: (I have no blurb... Heather, be creative and just make something up :-P)
Me: My goodness, lady, do I look like I have that much time on my hands? HAHA. *sigh* Fine.
About the author: Helayna was a good sport and gave me a shock when I read her entry. I mean, our kids go to school together. What kind of sick parent writes that stuff… er, yeah… scratch that thought. Thanks for playing, Helayna!

I got four great entries for the first Fast Friday installment. That means you, dear reader, got a bonus.

This is not limited to writers. Anyone can send me something!

A new prompt comes out on Monday. That means that instead of the two measly days these poor folks had to work with, the next group has four!

So bring it on! Challenge me. Make me laugh, make me cry, make me want to hide my eyes. Whatever your taste in writing, I have a place for you. All you have to do is try.

See you all Monday!

FAST FRIDAY!

2010-01-06T15:33:00.000-08:00

I decided I want to do something a little fun with my blahg. So, I came up with Fast Friday.

What is Fast Friday, you ask?

Answer: Weeeeeeeell…

Every Monday I will post a prompt in the column to the left labeled “Fast Friday”. Ideally, I would like three volunteers a week to write one sentence based on the prompt WITHOUT ACTUALLY USING THE WORDS OF THE PROMPT. The sentence can be three words or 103 (preferably not too long since LOOOOOOOOOONG sentences are usually very poorly written and hard to read, sort of like this one). It can be witty, funny, sad, any genre, etc.

For now there are only two basic conditions (this may change depending on how this goes HAHA):

1) THE PROMPT CANNOT BE USED IN THE SENTENCE, BUT IT MUST BE OBVIOUS THE SENTENCE CAME FROM THE PROMPT.

and

2) IT MUST BE ONLY ONE SENTENCE.

If you’d like to participate all you need to do is click the Contact link in the Fast Friday box on the left and send me something good. Be sure to put in the subject line FAST FRIDAY and your name. It should look this with your name in place of mine:
FAST FRIDAY Heather Wildman.
All other correspondence will be deleted.

What do you get out of it?

Answer: Now, now…

Must everything involve compensation? Alright, I give. There isn’t any monetary compensation. I believe I stated above that I wanted to do something fun. This is like going to a party. I’m not going to pay you to socialize and drink cocktails.

If your entry makes the cut, what I will do is post your name, along with a link to your website or blog, and a short blurb that you send me about you or your books or what have you. (NOTICE I SAID SHORT… SHORT MEANING 100 WORDS GIVE OR TAKE A FEW.) The blurb will be your words and your content unless it goes against what I want to appear on my blog since I am ultimately liable for the contents, then I will ask for a revision. Yes, I know. There are always conditions, aren’t there?

In other words... All you have to do is create a bit of fun and I’ll give you a bit of free promotion.

And who doesn’t like free.

So, any victims… er… volunteers?

Wait, what? An example?

Answer: Okay…

Let’s use this weeks prompt which is Elbow Macaroni.

Each entry would look something like this.

Author: Heather Wildman

Title: Artsy Noodle

“She watched the preschoolers glue the pasta on the paper and thought the only thing missing was the cheese.”

Directly below would be my blurb: Heather Wildman is an up and coming writer who lives in the Pacific Northwest with her two children and her pet dust bunny. Be sure to check out her stories here, here and here. Also be sure to visit her website to learn a little more about her.

You should send me something like this:
Name
Title (If desired.)
Sentence
Bio (Don't forget your links!)

Have you finally got it? Good. Now get crackin’!

Coming soon: Ebin's Heart

2009-12-31T08:03:00.000-08:00

My novella, Ebin's Heart is scheduled for release February 25, 2010 through Red Rose Publishing.

Ebin, a colored child born into a world of albino supremacy, is stabbed by his mother then abandoned in the wilderness. When he becomes an adult, he ventures into town and meets Eiva, an albino slave sold as a youth to Ebin's father. The two outcasts discover a connected history, and learn of the imminent failure of the long forgotten machinery protecting the fair skinned albinos from the sun. Will their love be able to save Ebin from his father's wrath, and the albinos from extinction?

Check back soon for updates!

Did you miss me? Aim higher...

2009-12-28T19:29:00.000-08:00

For those of you who miss my stories, here are a couple places you can find me until I manage to win this game of catch-up. I know you all know what I'm talking about from personal experience. So without further ado...

First, one of my short stories appeared in the New Bedlam ezine.

I had a lot of fun with this one!

If you don't go read it you'll be kicking yourself for a long time. HAHA!

P.S You'll understand why I laught at that once you read the story. *wink*

If you want to check out another short story, be sure to bring a torch or a flashlight.

My entry was one of those selected for the second flash fiction challenge by Absolute XPress titled

Creatures of the Night.

For a bit of goofy fun, and to learn a bit more about yours truly...

I allowed the fun-loving ladies over at

Culinary Carnivale

to interview me. Of course, some of their questions were just a tad but out of the ordinary, so I may have gone a little crazy with my answers...

Only a little crazy. Or maybe not.

I also have another announcement to make, one which I refer to in the above mentioned interview. Stay tuned for that!

And on that note, I shall end this little fun fest and send you off to read.