Someday I Will Look Back and Laugh [Fiction]

This post is written in response to the Write On Edge Red Writing Hood Prompt this week. It is a piece of short fiction based on the following:

According to Dante, the gates of hell are inscribed “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”

Let that inscription lead, but not necessarily define, your piece for Friday’s link-up.
500 words or less.

Concrit welcomed (and desired). 

 

“Brandon?” he’s pretending he doesn’t hear me again, “Brandon!”

“What?” I should expect that attitude by now, instead of flinching every time it comes flying.

“What the hell is this supposed to mean?” I can’t help but flail his binder in his direction.  I bought it two days ago for the new school year, and now it has, “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,” scrawled across the cover in large, sloppy printed letters.

“It’s a joke, Ma. Re-lax,” he says which he then sees fit to demonstrate by slouching down onto the couch with his back turned to me, and his senses numb to the beautiful world outside our door. In one move his headset is back on, the controller is back in his hands and my son, five feet in front of me, is virtually swept away to a dystopian universe where he is fighting for his very survival with people he has never even met or seen in real life.

Since he’s distracted, I open his binder in the hopes of finding the punch line to the “joke” on the cover.  What I am greeted with is a lot of work. There are at least 30 pages filled back to back with notes, diagrams and even highlighted sections. I feel the weight of the world easing it’s gravitational pull on my person until my eye catches on one conglomeration of letters and symbols that is not readable in the English language, but I recognize it immediately: G4m3r_F0R_L1F3.

That’s him. It’s Brandon, except it is not the Brandon I gave birth to sixteen years ago, that is his avatar, his virtual representation. That is not the name he would be using in his schoolwork. Which means one thing – this book contains no schoolwork. As I flip through the pages again, this time with a more critical eye, I see that all of this “work” is some sort of plan for his virtual survival in a world that isn’t real.

I’m about to confront him when he is literally saved by the bell, or , rather, the ringing of the phone. I gather my composure, answer it up without checking the caller ID.

“Hello, Mrs. Ward?” responds a polite, but unfamiliar voice.

“Yes, who’s this?”

“Mrs. Ward, I am Ms. Fere, Brandon’s guidance counselor. We need to talk about Brandon’s future here. I’m not sure he’s going to make it.”

"You know, Ms. Fere, it's funny you should say that, I was just wondering the same thing," and I couldn't help but laugh. I had just found the sadly ironic punchline of my son's "joke."

Soul Music

"There's no music," she says pulling the covers over her head.

"Well, let's put your radio on, then." Her iHome has been playing since the day we got it for her. She wakes to it, plays it after school and falls asleep to it. My little girl loves her music.

"Not that music," she muffles from under her comforter. "Please turn it off Mama."

I notice tears in her eyes. I climb over to lay beside her, "What music, then?"

"The music from Daddy. The music on the inside."

I've read books and remained active in the Church, but these moments are hollow. I want to cry with her, but she doesn't want to cry now. Right now, my baby wants music.

"Don't I give you music? ...and your sisters?"

"Yes, Mama, but it's not loud enough. Daddy's music was louder. Will he ever come home from Heaven?"

Pull your heart back together.
                                             Find your strength.
                                                                           Your child needs you.

"No, Baby, but he misses you. I know the Church says Heaven is always happy, but sometimes the people in Heaven get sad."

"That's not what Father Joe said," note to self: kick Father's ass on Sunday.

"Well, he's wrong," as I talk I feel her start to unwind, "I know because of the rain."

"The rain?"

"Yep. Rain means someone in Heaven is crying," as I talk, I wonder, Why can't this be true? "Sometimes they're happy tears --"

She looks at me and smiles, rolling her eyes, "Like you do sometimes when you watch those boring movies?"

I laugh, "Yes, like that. Some rain is like that, but sometime, like when a Daddy misses his ladies, the tears are sad."

"I hope Daddy's not sad a lot of the time."

"I know and I know he's hoping that you're not sad, too," we both sit quietly for a moment, then, "So... Should we get up now?"

"Not yet..."

"OK."

The room stays quiet. I'm filling with the warmth of hope for our family. I could lay here all day, maybe she could too, but then

I 

hear

the 

music.

"Mama?" she whispers, "Do you hear it?"

"I can't believe it... I do."

"Mama," she leaps out of bed crossing to her window,  "I think Daddy is crying happy tears this time."


 
This post was written in response to a Red Writing Hood Prompt about music from the Write On Edge blog. Here's this week's prompt:

Show us in 400 words or less how your character reacts to a piece of music. It can advance a story line or provide a character sketch–or both! 

The Unexpected Guest

This post was written in response to this week's Red Writing Hood prompt on the Write on Edge. It is as follows:

“The cure for anything is salt water….sweat, tears or the sea.”
~ Isak Dinesen, pseudonym of Baroness Karen von Blixen-Finecke

For your Creative Non-Fiction tell us about the last time that one of these three things “cured” you. If you are going with Fiction, have your character resolve a problem using one of the three (or all three!!!). 

I went for fiction. I hope you enjoy it.
 
"Mommy, I did bad."

I braced myself for the confession of some silent, disastrous mess made while I ignorantly stole some reading time for myself. As her eyes met mine I saw a sadness there that sent an ice pick through my heart,"Come sit, Honey, what is it?"

"...memember the beach today?" she's so serious.

I nod.

"A-and memember you said I was so lucky acause I saw the star?"

"Of course! That starfish was beautiful," I didn't know how this made her unhappy. I tried to change the mood, "Remember its colors? What colors did you see?" she's a fan of color recall, this should've scored a smile.

Wrong. It brought tears, "I think it's ick. I think I hurt it."
"What do you mean it's sick? I'm sure the starfish is fine," why was she still thinking about this?

The little hand that had been in her pocket the entire time, emerged in a tiny fist. She opened it, and sniffling, asked, "Mommy, no more colors? I made them go away?"

It was her starfish. Not on the beach where I last saw it, but in her gentle hand with a piece of pink lint hanging on one of its legs. Somehow, I know this is my fault.

"Oh Baby, it needs the sea, that's all. We'll have to bring it home."

"Then I won't be lucky?"

Mea culpa.

In the kitchen I mixed water with salt in a glass, "This is Starfish's sleeping bag for the sleepover you guys are having tonight, but tomorrow, we have to bring him back home, OK?"

"We're having a sleepover?" She smiled as she looked through the glass and my heart melted as she whispered, "I am lucky."

Where Are My Feety Pajamas?

The following was written in response to this week's Red Writing Hood writing prompt from the Write on Edge blog. Here's the prompt from this week:

We’d like you to craft a piece of fiction or creative non-fiction around the holiday season... The piece should begin with “The doorbell rang” and end with “snow began to fall.”The middle is up to you, and the entire thing should be under 300 words.

That which follows is creative nonfiction. It is an amalgam of holiday/family gatherings from the last couple of years. 
 

The doorbell rang, or tried to. It's been on the "fix-list" for months, it makes a fractured buzz that only the dogs and I can identify as "doorbell." I run to the door hoping to get it open before my brother clutches the doorknob.

I don't make it.

"What the hell?" I hear his frustration before I see his crimson face. I don't want to laugh, but it's all I can do to keep my sanity in this house that is crumbling under my watch.

"Forgot to tell you," I say as he hands me the doorknob in a huff, "Doorknob's broken."

"I don't even want to talk about it," he says. No, the house is not perfect yet... , I think, wondering what other open sores he'll find in our childhood home.

I turn to the cooking, hoping everyone will enjoy the fabulous feast I'm preparing.

We laugh, eat and I notice the table is getting more crowded every year, even though I still feel the emptiness. We watch movies, play games and do all the things we used to do in the basement while the "grown ups" played poker and drank cordials upstairs.

At some point, after dessert, after too much wine, someone says, "I guess we're the grown ups now, huh?"

"Do you think they were as clueless as we are?" I ask.

"I can't think of any reason why they wouldn't be," my cousin says.

My brother adds, "Our parents were older."

"Sorry, dude, we're old," I remind him.

We fall silent. I'm about to submit to the weightiness of my reaffirmed adulthood status when I glance out the window and burst into a good old fashioned Snoopy dance.

My husband points out what I saw:

 snow 

began 

to 

fall.

Do You Run?

The following was written in response to this week's Red Writing Hood writing prompt from the Write on Edge blog. It is also inspired by one of the characters in what I THINK is going to be the novel I am working on for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month aka NOVEMBER). Here's the prompt:

Some people consider themselves athletes. Others do not.  Write a piece of fiction or creative non-fiction in which athleticism features prominently... Let’s try 400 words or less, please.

Have you ever run before? I mean, I hope as a kid you did, I think as kids we all ran all over the place for no reason, but I mean now... now that we're old enough that we have to have a reason? Have you run since then?

I hope so.

As far as I'm concerned it's just about the only place I feel truly free. I feel the wind on my face, the ground beneath my feet and I hear... nothing. I'm not saying that I go deaf or anything crazy like that, I just mean that the sounds don't really count, they don't sink in. There are no distractions.

That's why I joined track. It was a no-brainer for me, really. I'm a runner. I'll join track. Duh.

But not everyone's there for the same reason. Some are all about scholarship money, some are doing whatever their parents tell them to do, and others are on the team because it's what's hot right now. (We've kind of been kicking ass for the last couple of years, if you didn't already know!) There's one other kid on the team who I would consider a runner, like me, but we never talk.

I think I know him pretty well without even talking . He's quiet, but he's got a lot to say. He's not "cool," but that stuff doesn't matter to him. He looks like he's always relaxing, but he's not lazy.

I know these things because he's a runner. He runs, so he thinks. Since he is a serious runner (I've seen him running before school even on days we have practice!) he is confident. A lazy person doesn't run like him.

I didn't mean to write so much about him, but I just get mad that he doesn't get the respect he deserves on the team. I get mad that some of the kids think they're better than him. I hate the judgement...

Anyway, the point is running, as in running for real, is not easy, but it is AWESOME. I hope you run. If you need a reason (which I guess we do now that we're teenagers), let it be that running can make you happy. Don't do it for your parents, for a scholarship, or just because I said so - remember running, remember the fun of it. It's still that awesome!

Got to go run! :)

~B

Arachno-PHONE-nia

This post was written in response to this week's Red Writing Hood writing prompt from Write on Edge. Here is the prompt:
For this week’s Red Writing Hood prompt, we’re inviting you to truly scare us.
Here’s what you’ll need to do:
Compose a post in the form of a text–160 characters.
Your text must elicit or express fear.


Not sure how anyone else would respond to this text, but if I woke up to it I'm not sure I'd be able to move!

Go ahead... laugh at me. Everyone does.

Here's a link to a story about one of my REAL-LIFE 

encounters of the spidery kind: BLACK WIDOW!

A Wonderful Wellie Day

As each step splashes water up over her toes, Amber smiles in the lamplight's reflection on the wet ground beneath her. This spot, with the benches lined up is usually packed with people reading, meeting with friends, workers catching a quick lunch, but not now, not today. Why? Because right now it's begun to rain.

She's got her Wellies on, along with her hooded raincoat and can plainly see she is the only one on the street. As she stopped for a moment to absorb the silence, stillness and peace of the world around her sitting on one of the benches, she was suddenly thankful for the moment.

A smile emerged. She could no longer contain herself. She tilted her head back and, with both hands, pulled her hood down shaking her long chestnut colored hair free. She closed her eyes just to feel the moisture on the tenderness of her eyelids.

When she fully relaxed with head back, eyes closed, wide smile and arms stretching in either direction across the back of the bench, Nature seemed to respond to what her inner child was begging for: Wellie-worthy rain.

GLOP! on her finger.

GLOP! on her forehead.

GLIP GLOP! on the bench beside her.

GLIP GLIP GLOP GLOP! large, almost bouncy raindrops were falling all around. It was the one on her eyelid, though, that caused her to finally laugh out loud.

As if suddenly possessed by Gene Kelly himself, Amber jumped from her seat and burst into dance. First she climbed atop the bench, smiling, laughing and even cheering the rain on. Next she jumped down, two feet, side-by-side, straight into a puddle forming at the base of one of the lampposts, which she then, of course, grabbed and swung herself around.

She was smiling the way one does when they have finally released all of their inhibitions because they are sure no one is looking. Which Amber had every reason to believe. She knew there was no other soul on the street. She knew the windows were dark. And she knew no one had any business staring out onto a misty street on a seemingly ordinary day.

I was, though, because I was always by my window, fascinated by the beauty the mist captured on our lamp lit walkway. I never expected to find Amber there.

I never expected to fall in love that day. I didn't know I was going to find the girl I would marry on a bench outside my apartment window smiling, laughing and dancing in the rain.

I never expected it, but when I saw her I knew I had found the girl of my dreams.

This post was written in response to a prompt from the Write On Edge group. It is part of their Red Writing Hood writing meme that is posted each Tuesday and links up each Friday.
This week, we want you to be inspired by pictures.  Write a piece – fiction or creative non-fiction – based on your reaction to either of these photos. (I put the photo I used at the top of the piece).
Word limit is…600

10 Tweetable Tales

This post was written in response to a Red Writing Hood writing prompt from Write On Edge.


This week's prompt is as follows:
This week’s assignment will require the fewest number of words ever: we want you to write a story – your choice of topic – as a tweet.
That’s right. One hundred and forty characters. Not words. Characters.

Below are my attempts to tell a tale in 140 characters or less (not including their titles, of course).


 
1. NIGHTMARE
She woke up sweating, shaken by the previous night’s dream.
What’s that feeling on her face?
Lights on - She screams -The spider flees.

2. THE WAIT
Two days I stare at a silent device.
Was it my laugh? Was it me?
We kissed, you smiled, the stars aligned.
Or maybe not, maybe -
IT’S YOU!

3. FRIGHTENED
Hello?
Is anyone there? I think the power’s out. My flashlight’s broken. My son doesn’t live around here. I don’t know what to do.
Hello?

4. AT THE VERY LEAST
“He ain’t here!” slamming the door, thinking that, at least, he’d shared his new address. But “the least” was always too much for her ex.

 5. THE PREQUEL
A boy, a fire dragon, and her egg - these are the ingredients for building a Leagacy. Flet clutched Sheleia’s egg awaiting the true battle.

6. HOW MUCH DOES THIS COST?
A bucket in one hand, an icy cold jug in another. I struggle through the aisle peeling my shoes from the sticky floor with each step.

7. CLASSY
College; Whatever 101:
“Blah, blah.”
I write it down.
“Psst, you got a pen?”
Sure.
“You got the notes?”
Yep.
“What’s your name?”
Interesting...

8. OUR SIXTH SENSE
Her eyes are wide. Her tongue dangles. The drool pools beneath her.
My head aches. My vision blurs.
The sky turns gray, the storm is coming.

9.  T.W.E.E.T.
Tell it
Without description
Emotion or
Expression
Through abbreviation, emoticons and links.

10. THE LAST OUT
Crack!
“I got it!” The words clear his stage.
He moves to the left, then to the right with the glove positioned over his head.
*Smack*
Cheers!

So that's it. Which one is your favorite?

The Road Home

This post was written in response to a Red Writing Hood writing prompt from Write On Edge (the new and super-improved site from the ladies of The Red Dress Club).

This week's prompt is as follows:

Your assignment: You must begin your story with the words “We had to leave immediately” and end it with “And then we realized we were already home.”

The middle part is up to you.
 
 Here's my beginning, middle and end.


The Road Home

We had to leave immediately. There was no time to contact you. I am sorry you had to find out this way, but it was really the only way we could guarantee our safety and keep the secret. The phone numbers, e-mail addresses and Twitter handles we have all been using are all gone. To state it bluntly, this piece of paper is the last communication we shall ever share.

With that said, let me tell you what you need to know:
Your house is the blue house on the road we have already discussed. There is no number on the front and I suggest you keep it that way. There are three bedrooms and each contains a suitable wardrobe for at least the next month or so. I won’t write about the cash here and hope that you remember all that we discussed before. The car in the garage is registered and insured under your husband’s new name.

The attic is  the KEY, remember? Girl, I hope you do, because there is no way I am leaving that kind of information in a printed letter. Here’s what I can tell you: your day is Tuesday. Be there at 16:34. If you miss your time it’s over, for all of you. This is non-negotiable.

Your assignment will begin this Tuesday.

For Now, For Then and Forever,
K

“Was that it?”

“Oh yeah. That was definitely IT. No one is coming for us. This letter is the end. We have to go.”

“A letter. On a god-damn tree? How did you even know to stop here?”

“The GPS. This marker popped up about two hours ago. I knew it was them. I hate this. Don’t make me think about it; just grab the kids.”

I hated it too. What I don’t think she realized is that I hated it more than she ever could have fathomed. We were in the woods, hiking for three days since we got off at the designated station and now the sun was setting again. Tomorrow was Tuesday. If we didn’t get to that blue house soon we would all be killed and I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that these people would kill my children first.

As I approached my wife, now with the kids in tow, one little hand tugged my arm, “Daddy, can we live there?” We followed her pointed finger to a point about 100 yards in front of the tree where we found the letter. There was a house.

In a broken voice, my wife asked, “Sweetie, would you like that?”

This time, as we struggled to see in the dusk that the house was indeed blue, two delighted children’s voices, “Yesss!!”

And then we realized we were already home.

Overworked, MisUnderstood and Feared

This post was written in response to a Red Writing Hood writing prompt from the Red Dress Club. This week's prompt is as follows:
The most frequent advice I come across for amateur writers is, "Write what you know."

"What you know" doesn't necessarily always mean "your comfort zone." For this week, take what you know out of your comfort zone. Try a new genre, a new time period, a geography you've only dreamed of, fantasy or historical instead of contemporary fiction, try the male POV if you usually write women. Or vice versa.

Switch it up. See where it takes you.


I switched it up. Here's where it took me.

Here I am again. On every notebook page, in the textbook, on the whiteboard, projected onto the SmartBoard  and even in the classroom decorations. The teacher gets me, but these kids, oh these kids, every single year they get so stressed every single time I am around. I keep hoping they’ll start using someone else in my stead - the pressure is too great, the feelings of hate, fear and anxiety all pointed in my direction are more than I can bear.

I am only a letter. Why am I the one given all the responsibility? Why am I the one that has to represent all of the lost numbers of the universe?

“Find x,” they say. “Solve for x,” are the directions from others. Don’t they know I AM RIGHT HERE! It is not I who needs to be found! And I am smart enough to solve my own problems!

I mean, sure, sometimes y gets called to action, but everyone knows which one of us comes to mind first when humans are having their post-traumatic stress disorder flashbacks of Algebra - no one is getting fooled here! I understand that e and i have other responsibilities in the realm of mathematics, and that o, l, and t are often avoided for their ability to be confused with other members of the mathematical symbol army, but that still leaves so many others to choose from!

ANY LETTER CAN BE A VARIABLE! Why is this lost on so many?!

I am one letter, I stand for whichever number you want me to. I also represent the horizontal axis of the coordinate plane (I recognize I can give that responsibility to no one). I am feeling overworked, misunderstood and feared. I did not agree to this.

I became a variable to expand my horizons. I became a variable to stand in for numbers. Numbers that could be anything -  a measurement, a monetary amount, a place in space, a quantity, or anything else that you can quantify. I did not become a variable to become the trigger of the math-phobic’s nightmares!

Through it all, though, I love my job. I just wish more people could understand it... could understand me. I have so much to offer and I am not scary. I just show up when I am needed to stand-in for a missing, unknown, or ever-changing value.

It is really exciting work. I have seen the world, heck, I’ve seen the universe. People who don’t understand each other’s spoken or written languages can still share me when I am in my role as a variable. I have been doing this for a really long time, so I’ve seen what humanity is capable of and, I am proud to say, that I have played my part in some fabulous discoveries.

So please don’t take this as my resignation. Just try to understand where I am coming from. It’s a really big job and sometimes I feel like I’m all alone out here.

I am a letter, but I can represent any quantity in the universe. It’s a big idea to pack into one little x, but that’s it in a nutshell. Don’t over-complicate me, I’m abstract.

[Flash Fiction] This Beautiful Life

This post was written in response to a prompt from the Red Writing Hood. This is my first-ever flash fiction writing. It WAS fun and forced me to think about the storytelling in a completely different way.This week's prompt is as follows:

Flash Fiction can be fun and a real challenge. This week focus on the words and the strength of each to contribute to your story. Write a 300 word piece using the following word for inspiration: LIFE.

"Let her burn," came a voice to her right. She turned to see a horrid face with a toothy grin shrouded in a hood. The man looked like a caricature of death, but when she felt his warm spit on her face and saw the angry mob before her, she slipped easily into the reality of her surroundings. "Hang her!" came one scream with cheers of ascension. "Give her death! She deserves no more!" others yelled. As she looked out into the crowd she saw hate, fury and anguish. Some even brought signs carrying their messages of doom.

Forgiveness was nowhere to be found. As the shackles hung heavy on her wrists and ankles, two men pulled her up onto a platform where she thought, "I deserve this." She caught a glimpse of the noose as a hood was placed over her head and the crowd roared. The rope first slung loosely around her neck as some official statements were read - to her, it was just a mouse squeak amid the cacophony of death calls from the crowds - then a slight push, the rope tightened and

*SNAP*

She was awake. The sun was up, the birds were singing and from where the sun fell onto her face, she could smell her wildflower garden. She and Angie had been working on that for two years now.

She laid there for a moment more.

Life. It is a beautiful thing - it smells beautiful, it sounds beautiful and, just like that morning stream of sun, it feels beautiful - she thought, "I don't deserve this."

Forgiveness was still nowhere to be found, nor did she seek it - being sentenced to LIFE, even if it was behind bars, seemed more than she could ever ask for.

4 Great Ways to Get Your Blog Writing Going

You are sitting in front of your computer. You are ready to write for your blog. You've even managed to carve out a nice space of "me time" to accomplish this task, but then it hits you - what the HECK am I going to write about today? Since you have little time to waste, let me tell you about some of the fabulous resources out there to get you juices flowing.

Share Your Knowledge/Learning 

Do you have a skill, a hobby or something else you can teach your readers? Have you just gone to a class, watched a movie or read a book where you have learned something? Take a post to teach us! Here are some examples of some great teaching posts that I've run across:

• 6 Ways to Start An Art Collection Without Breaking the Bank Using what she knows from being an artist's wife, Ginger teaches us some tricks of the trade so we can all add that glitz and glam to our spaces no matter what our income is!
• 4 Heartstopping Myths On Drowning Every Responsible Parent Should Know When Alison learned about what drowning really looked like, she knew she had something to share. It was an extremely important post and, because of that, it went viral. Do you have some important knowledge that you should be sharing with the world? Don't take it for granted that everyone knows what you do!
• Lemonade Pie Kristl of The Budget Diet blog had a fun, yummy recipe from her childhood that takes only four ingredients and some chill-time. She shared it with her readers who are always interested in fun things to do, make or get for a bargain!
• How to Wash Windows from The Damsel of the Old School - Self Reliance 101 blog. The Damsel is one of my great online teachers, this is just one example of her fun and funny teaching style that leaves you begging for more. ...and this is a post about washing windows. Moral here: inspiration can be anywhere - you just have to be up to the challenge of writing about it!!

Challenge Yourself

Pick a challenge, either for yourself or for your blog and write about it. This can be a lot of fun and an easy path to finding material to write about. Here are some challenges you might want to think about:

• Go Meatless! This past November I found out it was World Vegan month and decided, in honor of that, to go meatless every Monday for the entire month. I documented it on my blog Searching for Sustenance and it gave me an easy day of writing for six weeks of Mondays. I also couldn't help but occasionally refer back to it from time to time, so it continues to be a source of writing inspiration. Here is my wrap up post What I Learned from Meatless Mondays.With this challenge you'll examine ethical eating and your blog will benefit from it as well.
• 31 Days to Build a Better Blog Do I write about this enough on this blog? I love this challenge. I am going through it again right now. If you participate with a community like I am (shout out to the SITS Girls!), then not only does the eBook give you tons of ideas for writing, but so do your fellow participants! You will be improving your blogging skills and you'll have something to write about every day! Here's a fantastic look at one of the most content-heavy days in the challenge From Eileen of the Web Design School blog: Tips and Tutorials for Bloggers Day 6.

• Couch to 5k Program This is a nine week program to go from couch potato to 5K runner. It is a program designed for people who have often thought most exercise, especially running, is a far away dream. Dream no more! MAKE IT HAPPEN and take your readers with you on the journey! You will transform yourself, inspire others and be able to write about the program, your ups, your downs, your runs, your falls - there is SO much to write about here... (I keep dreaming of the day my IIH takes enough of a back seat for me to try this one!)
• 30 Day Challenges In general there are a lot of various types of 30 day challenges out there - fun ones, fit ones, financial ones, a quick search on Google will send you on your way to finding one that fits for you. One post about 30 Day Challenges that caught my eye was 10 Thirty Day Challenges No One Wants to Take.

Causes
Many causes need people to be talking about them. If you have a cause, or an action that is near and dear to your heart, then get writing! You'll feel better about it and you can engage your readers in discussing important issues. Here are some examples of blogs writing with causes in mind:

• Conversations on Giving  This is a segment on the Do Good blog where the act of giving whether through charity, kindness or self is discussed. It is a simple idea that can be written about in so many different ways.
• 365Give This blog fascinates me. It is about giving every single day. It doesn't have to monetary, it doesn't have to be huge, but it is making the commitment to giving at least once every day and then writing about it. Imagine you made this commitment. Imagine you had to write about it. How would this change you? How would it engage your readers?
• One-Shots Stay in the loop with your special causes to find out if there are any special events or petitions floating around that need some publicity. Don't forget that your blog can be your podium when necessary. For example, this week I am trying to get people to let the Girl Scouts know I would like some gluten-free cookies! To that end, I wrote this post: Tell the Girl Scouts How Big the Gluten-Free Market Is! (if you have a minute, you should totally check this post out and sign the enclosed petition!).

For the Art of Writing

• The Red Dress Club Every week these ladies provide two writing prompts. The prompts could be as simple as a word or a picture, or they could even be specific lines to be included in the writing - they change all the time and I check in every week. If you write on one of the prompts, you can return to the site to link up your post to share with the Red Dress community for concrit. It's pretty awesome.
• One is called the Red Writing Hood prompt and can usually be either fiction or nonfiction and is typically limited to be anywhere between 600-700 words. Here are some of my prompt responses: Detour in "Off My Trail", Someone who drives you crazy in "One Lucky Turtle" and Fightin' words in "Someone Stole My F-ing Car" (*warning: this one is angry)
• The other prompt is called RemembeRED and is a memoir prompt and has the same types of length restrictions. Here are some of my prompt responses: Forgiveness in "I Forgive You", A positive from a negative experience in "Wash Away My Normal" and something you are proud of in "My Teaching Appreciation Day" 

• The Writer's Toolbox This is an offline resource that I actually found in the Barnes & Noble bargain section years ago. The box comes with a timer, a number of different tools (sentence sticks, sensory cards and the protagonist game, for example) and  book describing different ways to use them in conjunction with each other to find inspiration.

There's More!


There is definitely at least second post in here about how you can write about what's going on in the news, how you can join blog communities like Blog Frog or SITS Girls or even Twitter parties like #CommentHour to see what other people are writing about and write a reaction post to it and link up. There's still even more, but to be honest, I think I am taking up too much of your time because you really need to get to writing!
 

I Just Want a Letter

This post was written for the Red Riding Hood Prompt. This week's prompt is all about character development.

We'd like you to write about what your character wants most. 




 We got together back in July 2006. I remember it well. I loved her, and, my God, did she love me. She was in school then and we were inseparable. I worked for her - whatever she was looking for or needed prepared for her classes, I would make sure she'd get it done.

As the Fall approached she began teaching again. I couldn't believe that she got permission for me to come into her classroom with her. It was a whole new role for me, "teacher's assistant", but if that's what she wanted from me, then I wanted to provide that for her. Everyone had questions about the arrangement. Students, teachers, even administrators wanted to know how I was doing in the classroom, if she regretted the decision, what types of things I could and couldn't do. It was cute how proud she was of me, how she would show me off and gush over the simplest of things I did for her.

The years passed like this and doors seemed to burst open for us. We applied and were admitted into the Google Teacher Academy. We were granted permission to visit my home town of SanFrancisco for MacWorld. We presented everything we learned to the school staff when we returned. Then, for her classes and for her own personal use, we began blogging.

I was happy that she was writing and that I could be there with her as she began, but at the end of last year, after a year of her being so sick, I, too, fell ill. She couldn't help me in her state and I couldn't help her in mine. We both escaped to our respective quiet hibernation until the time was right.

About a month ago, after her own respite, she found me and rescued me from my solitude. She brought me to professionals who could set me straight again. It worked, and although we were both out of the classroom due to our respective disabilities, we got back to work on her writing. We started blogging together again and, with it, began to feel useful.

But I have a secret that I don't want to tell her. I think we may be losing our E. I feel her tap and I want to respond to her every wish as I have always done, but I keep failing her when it comes to this ever-so-prevalent vowel. She must be starting to notice. Her proofreads are taking longer. I know with her limited vision a missing e in the word "the" is exactly the type of thing that can go unnoticed. How can I repair my own ravaged key so that she does not have to worry about such mundane details in a swirl of creativity?

We have had such a beautiful love affair. But can she accept that my "lov" is as deep as my "lovE" has always been? The last thing I want to be is another broken thing for her to fix, so I keep hoping, wishing and praying to the Apple gods that my E will come back.

You ask me what I want. It's so simple and yet so complex - I would like 1/26th of the alphabet. One letter, a vowel. It's actually a number, too. On my keyboard it also controls the accent mark. It is all these things, but what's more, it is the key to a seamless relationship of shared joy over the creative process. It's an E and, yes, it is that important.

Someone Stole My F-ing Car

Here I am locked in this office
chained to these keys
staring into a screen swearing it is my fucking window to the world...

But I know someone else is driving my car,
out on the open road
with windows down, music blaring and winds blazing through his hairs.

What the hell happened?
That's my car. That's supposed to be me.
Running from the fury and enjoying the freedom of the outside.

This is abuse of the worst kind - it is self-mutilating.
I handed over the keys, I said, "Drive for me, please."
And, at the time, I meant it. At the time, I needed it.
But honestly I let this shit go on too long.

I want to fucking DRIVE.

Now we've had a fight and HE gets to flee?!
Oh NO... that is simply UNacceptable.

Stuck here with my limited vision,
my god-damned limited health
and with it I can't even express fury the way I used to.

Justice is lost...

I am limited even in my humanity.

Is there anything else that can be taken?


The tears flow hot and heavy.
I lost this battle, but it's not with him.
Now I know it was never with him.
I still hurt over my body's betrayal to this soul....

So much more to heal,
still battling with the fact that, "I can't drive,"
Go on... say it again, the dogs aren't listening,
"I CAN'T drive."

You know why, too, of course.
"...it isn't safe..."
But, Nicole, that doesn't mean you can't LIVE.

Now remember why you love him,
remember what the hell HE'S been through.
He's just about the last person on the planet you should be fighting with.
Let him drive,
he'll be home soon
and he'll be bringing back your car.


This post was written for the Red Riding Hood Prompt. This week's assignment was:

This week, we want fightin' words.

Write a piece about a fight. What happened? Why? Who "won"? What were the repercussions? 

I actually had half of this written raw, in the middle of a fight (as you can probably tell) with no intention to post it, but when I saw this prompt I thought it must be kismet.

One Lucky Turtle

This post was written for the Red Riding Hood Prompt. This week's assignment was as follows:

This week we want to challenge you to try something new.

Is there someone who drives you crazy?

Someone who really gets under your skin.

It doesn't have to be someone you know (although it certainly can be). It could be someone famous. Or even a character in a book.

I had no idea where to begin with this until I read this horrific article from TreeHugger yesterday which actually made me cry. I decided to take the clueless route (forever on a quest for the good in people) rather than demonize this guy, but there is definitely another, sicker tale that could spring from this article...



"No!" his fist came down on the table,"You never understood this. You are too old for this teaching! Listen carefully to me: There is no luck, there is only life," he leaned in, speaking in low, harsh tones, "Life flows like a river. Can a river be controlled? No, not totally, and not ever by 'luck'. You must position yourself in your river so that you control what you can and be ever-aware of its changing directions. Be present in life, don't be lucky."

He grabbed my hand and looked into my eyes, "NO LUCK! If you wait for luck, you will get washed away! That, my son, is what you have been missing." When my hand dropped to the table, I knew the conversation was over.

That was last night. I know my old man thinks he knows what he is talking about, but all I ever hear anyone talking about is luck. It's sad that he doesn't even realize how lucky he is! He found my mom, got married and had a kid all by the time he was 31 years old. By that time he was already in a management position in the Geely office (they make cars). I, on the other hand, am 33 years old, sitting on this damn subway after another non-management shift at Jiangdu Dajiang Chemical, which works on... well, it is nothing like cars. And, oh yeah, I'm still single.

I look around at all these people on the train with me and they look satisfied. Here's a group of kids with a camera having a blast - I remember those days - I can't believe I'm going to be the miserable guy in the background of all of their video. How the hell did it come to all of this?

Something's gotta give. My luck's got to change...

Here's my stop. Sihui - almost home.

Wait a second. What's that? There's a vendor by the entrance, she looks pretty popular, I wonder what she has, she's new.

THIS. IS. IT.

She's selling key rings to bring luck! I must have one. I give her my money and she asks, "Which one?"

That's easy, "The turtle."

What an unbelievable find! A turtle good luck charm. I am on my way, climbing out into the sun of the last day of my luckless life when I am stopped by a reporter, "Hello, may I ask you about your purchase. I am from The Global Times."

 Whoa. If that isn't an instant shift in luck, I don't know what is - The GLOBAL Times?! I tried to compose myself, "Sure."

"OK, great then," pulling out a phone to record our conversation. "Sihui station C entrance. Tuesday afternoon. Man in 30s purchases the Brazil turtle keyring," then looking at me says, "Sorry about that...  Can you please tell me why you just bought that keyring and what you plan to do with it?"

"I'll hang it in my office, it looks nice and brings good luck."


I don't know if I imagined it, but I think the reporter looked at me for a beat too long. I wonder if he is like my father and doesn't believe in luck. He stopped recording and took a picture of my new purchase. I was overwhelmed - now a photo, too? I asked if he could send it to me on my phone. Here it is:

A turtle keyring. photo by Li Bo

That's one lucky turtle.

Donut Daydreams

THEN...
Delightful surprise
On a Wednesday
Night. Maybe Daddy will bring them
Upstairs from his poker game
To share with us.

NOW...
Don't talk about them!
Oh! Why does everything delicious have gluten in it?
Nicole, you don't need it... you don't even want it
Until someone mentions a French Cruller!
Temptation at its peak! Will I crumble???


This post was writ­ten for the Red Writ­ing Hood Prompt: This week's Red Writing Hood assignment is to write a piece, fiction or non-fiction, inspired by the delicious shot. (picture above)

Off My Trail

It was summer. I don't remember what year, but Mom was still alive and cancer wasn't on anyone's mind. I was getting back into the swing of things - I was getting back to my run.

The "run" has never been an intense one. It is three miles from my kitchen door, to the baseball field and back. It's my route. It's what I do when I am ready to get back to me. I had a good routine going, but as it was getting warmer, I realized it was time for me to get up a little earlier to ensure my continued success.

I woke before my mother, grabbed my iPod, put my sneakers on and told my dog (Chewy, at the time) that these sneakers were not for her this time.

Out the door, ear buds in, pick the pace. One - two - one - two - one - two... there it is. Breathing is steady and the early morning dew helped the air coat my lungs. I thought, "Getting up early was a great idea!" The music blared in my ears, but the neighborhood still slept.

As I turned toward home I felt like a well-oiled machine, I was at one with every muscle in my body, with the air around me, with the ground below me. It was a beautiful morning, a magnificent run, and I didn't want it to end. It is for this reason, I chose to take a slight detour off my regular route just over a quarter of a mile from my home. I had reached the block that borders the Greenbelt Natural Reserve. I decided on this morning, I should complete my run with dirt beneath my feet instead of asphalt. I wanted to feel the Earth.

I jogged in, at first watching my feet closely, fearing I would trip on a fallen branch or slip on a muddy patch. Then I stopped and realized I needn't worry if all my senses were attuned. I grabbed my ear buds and, as the silence of the world enveloped me, I looked up into his eyes.

He was five feet in front of me and entirely too comfortable with my presence. I was a gawky, bumbling two-legged human who had mistakenly believed she captured grace during this morning run until I was caught in his gaze, looking upon his majestic antlers and witnessing his regal stance. Without understanding my own movements, I bowed to the young buck and backed out of his realm. He watched me take a number of steps before continuing to graze.

As I emerged from the dense woods, the sun seemed much brighter than how I had left it and, with my ear bids out of my ears I could hear that the neighborhood had risen. The magic of my morning had already passed. I looked over my shoulder, squinting back into the woods to see if the buck was still there, but he was created to be unseen in such situations... The physical evidence of my beautiful moment was gone, all that was left was a euphoric feeling throughout all my limbs.

I stepped back onto the the asphalt, put my ear buds back in and picked a new pace. I floated home as the neighborhood continued to dream away in a reality that missed the natural beauty in their midst.



This post was writ­ten for the Red Writ­ing Hood Prompt: This week's Red Writing Hood assignment is to write - fiction or non-fiction - about a time when you took a detour.