Blogging · Mi Vida Loca · Monday Meeting · nonfiction · postaday · Stories of my life · writing

Monday Meeting ~~ Sept 7, 2015

Good day people! Those of you who are celebrating Labor Day, have a great one. Hope you enjoy your day off if you have the day off. Canada also celebrates Labor Day.

Let’s get this meeting started.

Monday Meeting


I don’t know about the rest of you, but, September has not started out well. Weather wise. It’s cold! For the last three days, I’ve had my furnace on. We’ve had temps in the low 40’s (between 5-8C) during the day and close to freezing at night. Cold rain and wind does not make tomatoes ripen, let me tell you. Right now the sun is fighting the clouds and it’s a balmy 12C (54F). It’s too early for weather this cool.

So as I sip my hot coffee I let my dissatisfaction with the weather slip away. Ah, coffee makes most things tolerable.

I have some news on the husband front. Tomorrow we have a meeting set up with someone who is (supposedly) going to help us file paperwork with the government to get him some more help, financially and medically. The great thing is this person is coming to the house! They called last week and set up an appointment. As he explained it to us on the phone, the mental health clinic that the husband talked to last month got in touch with this guy from the government. They told him the husband needs to apply to some programs to receive help as his depression is caused partly because we need the help! Well, duh, I could have told them that if they asked.

The nice thing is the husband doesn’t have to take a painful car ride somewhere. He can stay in the comfort of the house and have someone come to him. Should be interesting. Guess that means I should tidy up some, eh? Of course I could tell the guy I’ve decorated early for Halloween. ūüėČ Cobwebs and all! Ha!

Have I mentioned the allergies? No? Well, my allergies have been going crazy lately! Watering eyes, sniffles, sneezing, hoarseness, itchy ears. My goodness, it’s been bad this time of the year. But, I soldier on….feeling sorry for me yet? Hey, I’m trying! Don’t worry, it’ll pass. So I’ll stop whining about it. For now.

On the book front, I want to thank everyone who has purchased The Canine Caper, you guys are the best! I do hope you enjoyed it. I’m diligently working on the next to final edits for A Case of Deceit. I’m happy to say I’m on target with those. I also got the proof of the paperback version of the cover last week. It looks amazing! Thank you again Tiny for all your hard work.

Something funny happened when the proof came in the mail. The husband watched me open it and then grabbed hold of the book almost before I could get a good look at it. I told him it was just a proof so I could see how the cover looks. The story inside would not be right as I had yet to do the edits. He said he didn’t care, he was going to read it. I almost fell out of my chair! He has NEVER read anything I have written. NEVER! But, he was determined he was going to read this unedited book.

I was so nervous. First, he rarely reads books. He’s more of a newspaper, TV sort of man. He went to reading and barely set the book down all day until he was finished! He shuffled into my office where I was working on the computer, handed me the book and said, “I’m proud of you. It was a great story. It had me interested from the beginning, where I wanted to know what was going to happen next. Your story had me turning the pages until the end.”

I don’t think I have ever felt more proud of myself than when I heard him say that. Now he is an honest man. Believe me he wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it. He never hesitates to tell me if I’ve done something wrong. He is also not a book reader by nature. So for him to read it in one day was an accomplishment! He liked it…he really liked it! haha!

Next I have to pass the Mom test, as she has informed me she wants a copy of the book when it’s out. Uh oh….

On a more cheerful note…Saturday is my birthday (the 12th) and don’t forget about my weekend birthday party! I’m not sure what exactly I’ll have going on but I do know I’ll hopefully have The Canine Caper on sale for the weekend. So stop on by sometime during the weekend and get a copy of The Canine Caper if you haven’t already done so!

I have finally put up some buttons on my sidebar with pictures of the books where all you have to do is click on them and they will take you to Amazon where you can order them. I’m slow, but I get there eventually.

That’s about it for this Monday Meeting. Hope to see you this weekend! Until then, have a great day!


Blogging · Guest posts · nonfiction · postaday · writing

Guest Post by Mandy Eve Barnett ~~ Creating Believable Characters

Hello, People!

Today we have Mandy Eve Barnett guest posting. She will be talking about Creating believable characters in our stories.

Mandy is a published author of children’s and adult books, so she knows her stuff. Please give her a warm welcome as only my readers can do.



Creating Believable Characters

Without characters our stories would have no real impact on our readers. We write to engage and intrigue them and hopefully make our protagonist the character our reader cares about. If your experience is anything like mine, there is usually one, or possibly two characters, that make their presence known in no uncertain terms. They want the starring role in our narrative. These characters are usually more defined in our minds and are ‚Äėeasier‚Äô to relate to, whether because of a personality trait¬†or because they are more fun to write. When creating the protagonist and antagonist in our stories, we give each opposing views and/or values. This is the basis of the conflict that carries our readers along their journey. Each character, whether major or minor, needs to have flaws and redeeming features, motivations, expectations, loyalties and deterrents.


character-development (1)



This leaves us with the problem of developing our supporting characters with as much attention to detail as the main antagonist and protagonist. When creating characters we must remember to ensure that each character acts and responds true to their given personality. Character profiles are a good way of ‚Äėgetting to know‚Äô our characters, this can be achieved mainly by utilizing¬†character‚Äôs names, personality traits,¬†appearance and their motivations. A name is a vital part of creating a mental image¬†of our character for readers. The right name can give them a quick visualization of our character‚Äôs age, ethnicity, gender, and even location, and if we are writing a period piece, even the era. For example, if I say the girl was called Britney, you would probably picture a young girl¬†because of the association with Britney Spears. However, if a female character were called Edith or Edna, you would imagine someone born several decades ago. So you see a name is not just a name.

Just as a burly man would be called something like Butch as opposed to Shirley, unless of course you are going to tell the story of his struggle throughout childhood to overcome the name.  There are plenty of web sites available, which list the most common names for each decade and locations around the world.  These are great resources for writers, who require particular names for period stories or want to stay true to a certain decade.


The use of a nickname will also give your character an identity, be it an unkind one given by a bully or one of respect or fear for the bully. You would expect Big Al to be just that, a large person; however, Little Mikey would be the exact opposite. Nicknames, or sobriquet’s can work very well in defining an ethnicity as well but care must be taken not to offend a person of color. Obviously there are certain words that were in common usage decades ago that are not politically correct now, so we need to be diligent in their use.

We should also consider giving our characters a conscience. Will the hero question his actions if they are extreme to his morals? Does the villain have a deep-seated angst? What motivates them? Some flawed characters can be difficult to write on occasion as they are far removed from our own personality (well I certainly hope so!) but with care we can accomplish a believable character. This is where research comes in and the reason writers search engine history can be a little frightening at times! One of my current WIP ‚Äď The Giving Thief, required me to investigate how a body could desiccate! It was fascinating to research although rather gruesome at times.

What character trait was your most challenging?




Thank you, Mandy, for a very interesting article and for guest posting on my blog. I appreciate it.

You can find Mandy on her blog Mandy Eve Barnett’s Official Blog.






Mi Vida Loca · nonfiction · postaday · writing

Writing Advice From A Novice Writer

Writing advice…it’s everywhere!

Buyer¬†or, in this case, reader beware. Writing advice is like assholes people, everyone has one and sometimes it’s full of bull****. ¬†That’s what I found out.


As most of you know, I’ve been writing a story on this blog for the last couple of months, (I’m turning that story into a book). ¬†Just finished it last week. It was wonderful having you all come along for the ride!

I’ll let you in on a secret though. I almost didn’t finish it. If you were reading along as I posted you would have noticed me getting slower and slower with my story posts. That’s because I made the fatal mistake of reading articles and posts on writing. How to do it, what not to do, the mistakes amateur writers make. So forth and so on…..

Reading all those advice postings made me stop writing! Seriously, it did. They scared the crap out of me! So I’m writing a post of my own as a warning to all you writers out there.


Just don’t do it if you are writing a book. They will fill you full of doubts and stop you in your tracks.

Why? Because they are so contradictory! ¬†One article will say do this in your writing….then the ¬†next one will say DON’T do that!

I read one post the other day on what beginning writers should do. They said we should always write an outline of our story. ALWAYS. A full and detailed outline of our story. Um, no. I can’t and won’t do that. That’s what writing the story is for! I tried it once. Once. Never again. I wrote that detailed outline and couldn’t write the book. Why? I already wrote it! Why write it twice?


Now I know some will say I wouldn’t have written it twice. The outline is the guidelines of your story. The more of a guideline, the easier to write the book! Now, it might work for some people, but not for me. Because I lose interest after writing the outline. I feel like I’ve already written the first draft, kind of. One with lots of space to fill in. Why not just write the damn book?

Besides, my characters high jack my story to write their own. I’m just the tool they use to write it down. I’m just the pen. They are the writers.

So that’s what I do. Now, I admit I do write a rough outline. Very rough. So rough that most people wouldn’t even call it an outline. That’s ok. I understand it and that’s all that matters in the end.

You know the ones that scared me the most? The ones full of ‘rules’.¬†Who makes up these rules? Writers do! Yes, other writers make rules for writers.

I understand having to use good grammar, good punctuation. That just makes sense. Who wants to read a book full of mistakes? Not me! Then I read rules that say something like this:

never use a verb other than “said” to carry dialogue.


Well, I know I broke that one. A lot. And I will keep breaking that one.

Oh, also I’m not supposed to use exclamation points. Yeah, well stuff it! I’ll use it if I want to!

Now not all advice is bad advice. I’m not saying ignore it all, just ignore the ones that don’t work for you. The best piece of advice I saw is attributed to Margaret Atwood;

Hold the reader’s attention. (This is likely to work better if you can hold your own.) But you don’t know who the reader is, so it’s like shooting fish with a slingshot in the dark. What ¬≠fascinates A will bore the pants off B.


Now that makes sense to me. All readers are different. They will take different things away from a story. They won’t all like the same things, but they also won’t all dislike the same things.

So my piece of advice is just write what pleases you. Or just write. Ignore all the advice out there. Writers don’t all write the same, thank goodness. Wouldn’t it be boring if they did?


I sent an email to a very special friend of mine. I told her, I’m scared to write anymore, I’m doing it all wrong according to writing rules I’ve read. People will hate my writing! Why am I even trying? You know what she said? QUIT READING WRITING POSTS! Just stop it!

She was right too. I stopped reading writing advice articles and just got back into writing my story. I found my joy again in the story and my characters.

My advice to you? You want to write, just write. Sit your butt down and write that story, that book, that poem, whatever it is you want to write. Don’t let anyone take that joy away from you!




Mi Vida Loca · postaday · writing

April 2015 A to Z Challenge Theme Reveal

Good day people!

Today is the day that we who are participating in the April A to Z Challenge reveal our themes (if we have one).


This is my first year joining all these wonderful people for this challenge. I’m super excited! I thought hard about a ‘theme’ for the challenge and finally figured out what I wanted to do.

My theme is going to be writing another story with my character DeeDee Watson, P.I, from ‘The Man in the Fedora.’ The Fedora story will be finished this week and then April 1 will start the next story. I’ve titled that one “The ABC’s of Death”.

There will be recurring characters, such as William Holden (the Fedora), the little dog Tee, Dee’s mother and brother and a few others.

This story will be more dark and tense then the Fedora story. Dee is hired to investigate a suicide that might actually be a murder. It’s her most dangerous case yet. Will she survive it? Come join me every day in April and see how she does!

Each chapter will be a letter of the alphabet. So it will go something like this;

(Chapter one) Another Case

(Chapter two) Badass Time

(Chapter three) Caught in the act!

And so on…….

Some chapters might only be a few hundred words, some longer. I think it’s rather ambitious for my first time, but I’m hyped and ready to tackle it! Hope you will join me and while you are at it, click on the A to Z challenge button on my sidebar and check out a few more bloggers who have joined. This is going to be a busy and exciting month!

I’ll give you a peak at the ‘book cover’ that I made.

ABC'S of Death book cover (4)

Fiction · Flash Back Friday · postaday · writing

Flash Back Friday

Hello people! Hope everyone is having a great start on the weekend.

I thought it would be fun to go back to when I first started this blog and take a second look at some of my posts. I started in August of 2012. I wanted to write, I needed to write, so I thought a blog would be the perfect and most logical thing to do. The first week of blogging, I got my courage up and posted a few short stories. Boy, was I ever a newbie! I didn’t know a thing about ‘tags’ or ‘categories‘. ¬†Having hardly any followers and getting my bravery up to post something I wrote was nerve-wracking. I read them now and the first thing that comes to mind? Wow, do they need editing! LOL

So I thought, what the hell, I’ll do a bit of editing, republish them and see what you think. Be gentle. They were my first born.

The first one up is called “Whispers”. You can see the original post here. After some much-needed editing, below is what I have now. Hope you enjoy!



Jogging through her favorite park, Helen’s anger simmered. Long legs pumped, feet pounding the tarred lane. Her mind went¬†back over the argument with her husband this morning. She was¬†still¬†so ¬†angry and confused. The two of them seemed to be arguing over everything lately! Everything and nothing.

She was hoping a good run with nature would calm her down. It wasn’t working. Helen slowed, her mind going over all of the petty little disagreements her husband Kevin and her were having lately. The sharp words to each other, hurtful words that couldn’t be taken back once said. She wondered when it all started? When had things changed so much that they couldn’t even talk to each other anymore!

Walking slowly, her mind mucked through¬†each and every argument. The hurt and confusion snuffing out her anger. ¬†Tears shimmered in her hazel eyes as she thought of all the terrible things said.¬†¬†She loved the man, loved him since the first day they met. He was funny, smart, and had a smile that she loved¬†to see whenever she looked at him. She realized that smile she loved so dearly has been missing lately. ¬†She knew he was just as confused about things between them as she was. Didn‚Äôt he just say that this morning? Before she stormed out of the house? She remembered now. As she was opening the front door, she heard him whisper, ‚ÄúWhat is happening to us?‚ÄĚ.

Through her veil of tears she spotted an empty park bench. Walking over to it, Helen sat, suddenly feeling so tired, so defeated. So terribly, heart hurting, sad. She bit back a sob, as she spotted an elderly couple approach the bench. They sat on the other end, close together, hands clasped. They were oblivious to her, to her pain and tears.  They only had eyes for each other, heads bent close together. One with a jaunty little cap, the other with her white hair done up in a bun behind her head. Helen couldn’t hear what they were saying to each other as they were whispering.


Heads bent forward, touching, hands clasped, loving, soft smiles on their lips. To Helen, they looked so young despite the lines of time upon their faces, white hair, age spots on their hands. They looked young and happy, so much in love. Helen could almost hear the loving words whispered between them.

A¬†soft laugh pierced Helen’s¬†cloud of despair. The old couple stood up, still with clasped hands and heads together, still whispering their words, they¬†moved down the path past Helen. ¬†Her tears dry upon her cheeks, Helen watched them pass.

She watched them for a few moments longer, then her eyes widened and she knew what she wanted to do! Determined, she ran back home, hoping against hope he was still there. That Kevin hadn’t left yet.

As Helen entered the house, her eyes found him almost exactly where she had left him. She thought he looked as lost as she felt, he looked so alone. Kevin¬†stood facing her, with that¬†wounded look in his eyes that mirrored Helen’s own. Taking a slow, deep breath, she walked to him, put her arms around him, leaned her head against his shoulder and whispered.

Kevin’s arms circled the woman he loved more than life and held her tightly. Heads bent together, eyes closed, they held each other in hope, in love. They whispered words of healing and forgiveness¬†to each other.

Whispers, soft words of love, they are so much stronger than anger.

Blog challenge · Fiction · Flash Fiction · Friday Fictioneers · writing

Friday Fictioneers ~~~ Oct 17, 2014

Friday Fictioneer is where around 100 people write a 100 word story based on the same picture. It’s a wonderful way of honing your writing craft or just reading some great writers.

Rochelle is our fearless leader in this writing party. Thank you Rochelle!  Click on Rochelle’s name and it will take you to her blog. That’s where you can read her amazing stories every week, or you can scroll down till you meet the blue critter, click on him and be taken to a land of many stories. Or even better join us!



Copyright ‚Äď Douglas M. MacIlroy
Copyright ‚Äď Douglas M. MacIlroy



Genre: Literary Fiction (100 words)


Julie looked inside her dad’s workshop and shook her head at the mess.

“Dad, I was after you for years to clean this place up! Now that you’re dead it’s up to me.”

As she looked  around, still muttering sadly, her eyes fell on a plaque on a corner table. She stepped closer as she recognized the shells on it. Those were hers from when she was a kid! Her dad kept them all these years.

Julie picked up the plaque and saw written on the back in her Dad’s shaky handwriting.

‘To my daughter who always made an old man proud.’

Blogging · Fiction · Flash Fiction · Friday Fictioneers · postaday · writing

Friday Fictioneers ~~ Oct 3, 2014

Friday Fictioneer is where around 100 people write a 100 word story based on the same picture. It’s a wonderful way of honing your writing craft or just reading some great writers.

Rochelle is our fearless leader in this shindig. Thank you Rochelle!  Click on Rochelle’s name and it will take you to her blog. That’s where you can read her amazing stories every week, or you can scroll down till you meet the blue critter, click on him and be taken to a land of many stories. Or even better join us!


Copyright-Kent Bonham
Copyright-Kent Bonham




Genre: Fantasy (100 words)


” Who took the last furcicle? How can I finish my spell without it?”

Jazzy was concentrating on her own¬†spell, if she didn’t get it right this time she was going to fail spell casting 201. She couldn’t let that happen! Turning towards Maise,¬†she replied, ¬†“Just go and find another! You know how you always are so good at finding those obscure ingredients.”

“I suppose I’ll have to or I’ll never finish. I know just where to look too!” Maise exclaimed, whisking out the door.


Maise patiently looked in all her secret locations.¬† “There’s one!”

She knew the fair always had one lying around.




Blogging · Daily Prompt · Fiction · stories · writing

The Meeting



I took a sip of my cooling coffee and watched the other patrons of the caf√©.¬† I didn’t know any of them and they didn’t know me. Or so I thought.

I was on holiday. I didn’t want to know anyone. I didn’t want to be disturbed. I wanted a little peace and quiet for a while. So in my office last week I put a map of the world up on the wall, ¬†closed my eyes, threw a dart and where it landed was where I was going.

So, here I was. Drinking a flavorful cup of Joe, feeling the tension between my shoulder blades finally dissipating. Through half closed eyes of contentment, I watched a young mother and her tow headed young charge laugh at the antics of a small puppy at their feet through the large picture window that faced the outside patio.

My chair leaned against the wall behind me as I took in the calm scene. Old habits die-hard, my back was always against a wall,  in my business ingrained habits might just save your life.

I nodded at the waitress and held my coffee cup up for another refill. I was enjoying the quiet of the little café. Smiling to myself I thought I should have taken a holiday months ago. The waitress wandered over and poured me another steaming cup of black gold, gave me a small nod and walked away.

I heard the tinkle of the bell over the caf√© door and casually glanced over. A tall thin man stood just inside the door. I felt a small fissure along my skin, telling me this man was here for me. I get those feelings sometimes. I don’t question them anymore. I watched him slowly glance around the half empty caf√© till his eyes landed on me.

I stayed in my relaxed position, waiting for him to do whatever he was going to do. I couldn’t see his face yet, as it was shaded by a¬†round derby hat¬†and the sunlight behind him afforded him the¬†anonymity of shadow. Through my half closed eyes I watched him walk slowly towards me. I put my cup down on the small round table in front of me and rested my hands next to it. The man stopped in front of my table.

“Hello are you Charly Cumberstoke? Better known as CC?”

I almost said a flat-out no, but my damned curiosity came into play. One of these times that same curiosity is going to get me killed.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

He gestured toward the empty chair and asked, “May I?”

I nodded. I was still cautious, it pays to be in my line of work.

He sat and pulled off his cap. I took a long hard look at his face. Narrow, with a long nose, long chin, and unusually pretty eyes for a man. Wide, steel grey with long black lashes framing them. I knew several women that would have been jealous of eyes like that. His black curly hair just brushed his forehead. I didn’t know the face, and I remembered faces. His was not one most would forget. I wanted to ask how he found me, but figured he’d get around to telling me soon enough.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

His voice was soft, cultured is how I would describe it. Wasn’t New Briton,¬†Oz Land¬†maybe. High end either way. What I could see of his hands clasped in front of him, they were soft, non-callused. His eyes stayed steady on mine, calm from what I could tell. One cool, long-legged man.


“I have a job for you.”

“I’m on holidays.”

“You’re a hard person to track down. I had to employ rather nefarious means to find you.”

“I’m still on holidays.”

I tensed as he reached inside his coat pocket. His hand stopped for a second then slowly pulled an envelope from it. He put it on the table and pushed it to me. I glanced at it and saw my name written in a bold hand across the rather pristine front.

I looked at him and raised an eyebrow in question.

“I don’t know what the letter says Ms. CC. I just do as my master tells me.”

“And who would your master be?”

“I’m sure the letter will explain everything, if you would be so kind as to read it.”

I picked it up and stared at it. I’m not sure why, but I didn’t want to open it. Cowardly of me, which is usually not my problem. I guess the only way I would get answers is to read the damn thing.

“I believe I shall see if this establishment has anything of a decent tea to drink. I will leave you to your reading Ms. CC.”

With that, he got up and walked to the counter to order his tea. I looked at the letter again and with a reluctant sigh tore it open and pulled out a single piece of white vellum. As I read my heart stopped for a moment and then I felt my anger stir. Of all the damned nerve!

I slowly, with my anger burning deep, put the letter back into the envelope. I waited for the stranger to sit back down.

“I had to explain to the waitress how to make a decent cup of tea. It’s amazing that she didn’t know how!”

“Never mind about the damned tea. Who are you?”

“My name is Michaels. I am Mr. Cumberstokes manservant.”

“I don’t know how my no good father put you up to this, but it’s not funny.”

“No jokes Ms. CC. Your father needs your help.”

“My father hasn’t needed me since he walked out when I was a kid.”

“I’m sure it’s something he regrets.”

I just laughed at the absurdity of the whole thing. Something stirred in my mind. Old forgotten memories. Ah, shit, I was going to go meet my father, who I haven’t seen in over 25 years. This should be interesting…………



This story was done for the Daily Post’s daily prompt, Greetings, Stranger. I have also brought back my favorite character CC whom I have written about in previous stories. To read the first one, please go here. Thanks for stopping in and giving my story a read. Hope you enjoyed it!







Blog challenge · Daily Post Writing Challenge · Fiction · stories · writing

Writing Challenge~~~ Tracks Backward

Source:Cheri Lucas Rowlands/The Daily Post
Source:Cheri Lucas Rowlands/The Daily Post


I had been here before, a long time ago.  Deja Vu.  I was about 10, just a damn kid. The world was all ready a hard place to be in.

Abandoned by a good-looking, smooth talking traveling man, my mother ended up eight and half months later with me. I was impatient to come into this god forsaken world back then. Came early, some say I sent my mother to her grave. I say, to hell with them. My mother sent herself to the grave. I was eight when she finally had enough of the hard life and just laid down and died. She gave up. I won’t ever give up. It’s not in me.

The group of misbegotten, ragtag bunch of idiots that my mother had hooked up with were a superstitious lot. Took it out on me. A small red-headed girl with one green eye and one blue eye. They said I was the product of the devil. For a couple of years after my mother died, I just hung out on the fringe of the group and tried to survive the best I could. They took turns throwing me scraps to eat and cuffing my ears when I let them get too close.

I had just turned 10 when they decided to get rid of me. They weren’t brave enough to kill me themselves, so they thought the wolves in the wild would do their dirty work for them. So they gathered a few of my belongings up, a bit of bread and rotten cheese and left me at these railroad tracks to fend for myself.

In the middle of damned nowhere. Just a set of rusty, disused rail tracks and me. If I wouldn’t have let my guard down they never would have had the drop on me. I was so tired. I drifted off to sleep and a couple of brave men of ¬†the group put a sack over me and tied me in it. They tossed me over a rough boney shoulder. I didn’t yell or scream, I remember that. Never was one for wasting my energy on something that wasn’t going to work anyhow. ¬†They walked what seemed like forever in my mind, barely talking to each other. When they got to these tracks they tossed me to the ground and just walked off.

Took me¬† a long time to finally work myself out of that damn sack. By then my anger was burned deep inside of me. I swore I would get revenge. First though I had to survive long enough to figure out how to get that well deserved revenge. When I got out of that sack it was coming dark. I found my pitiful bundle of belongings laying a few feet to the side of me. I ate the bread and moldy cheese. I was always hungry back then. So a bit of mold didn’t bother me none.

While I ate, slowly chewing the tough bread I took a look around. All I could see in the dusk was trees, lots of trees and those old railway tracks. I knew the trains weren’t running anymore. I had overheard some of the group talking about the trains not running after the last world war pretty much desecrated the country, hell the world from what I heard.¬†Bands of people got together after the war and survived best they could. Too¬†bad my mother¬†hooked herself up with one of the worst.

For some reason I remember not being scared. Nothing much frightened¬†me back then. Still doesn’t. I was more curious than scared. I knew about the¬†wolves of course. Anyone who spent anytime out here knew about¬†them. But they fascinated me. The group with their stupid superstitions were terrified of them.

I used to sneak out in the woods at night and watch the wolves. I would lay still as I could for hours and just watch and learn.

Who knew that all that watching, that learning, would help me survive. Those wolves turned out to be my best friends. My family, my survival.

Now I was back. I was older, smarter, and deadlier. My revenge would happen soon.



This story was done for the The Daily Post’s Weekly Writing challenge. Let me know what you think. I may add on to it on a later date.





poetry · postaday · Uncategorized · writing

In Pieces~~~ A Poem


In Pieces

Life, shattered, laying in pieces around me

Dreams that once were, no more

Faded wisps of what might have been

gently disappear with the breeze

Heart, broken, jagged pieces left bleeding

Tears mingle with the pain of broken wings of want

Sighs heard, quietly in the dark corners

like soft bells of desire, never to be heard again

Thoughts, scattered, pieces of a once treasured puzzle

Wishes float in the air, then pop, broken like fragile bubbles

Memories of something that almost was possible

now gone, as if it never was……..

Maybe it wasn’t meant to be

these pieces of me


Cee's Share Your World

Sharing is Caring ~~ 2014 Week 31

Hello people! I’ve been gone for a while, but I thought it was time I jumped out of my pity pool and joined the land of the living. Even if it is virtual.

The reason for the pity pool party is the beginning of July I sprained a ligament in my right knee and it was some of the most intense pain I have ever¬†felt and I’ve felt some bad pain in my life.

It was all the time, 24/7 pain. I now have a deep and sympathetic understanding of people who live with chronic pain. I would not wish that on anyone. It took all my concentration just to get through the day. And the nights? The most hellish times I have ever gone through. No sleep for days on end, even taking sleeping pills. For a while there I thought I would lose my mind.

After a little over a month of this, I’m still not completely healed, but the pain at least has diminished enough that I can do something other than blubber my way through the day. I can think again. I’m still only sleeping a few hours at a time, but that too is an improvement.

I tried to visit some of your blogs, but if you haven’t seen me around, that is the reason.

Now onto the Share Your World post courtesy of Cee over at Cee’s Photography. Thanks Cee for some great questions this week and I hope you are enjoying your¬†qigong retreat.

If you had your own talk show, who would your first three guests be? (guest can be dead, alive, famous or someone you just know)

The set for the show would be something comfortable and low-key. Like¬†someone’s nice comfortable living room, with comfy¬†couches and sunshine coming through the¬†a big picture window. I would¬†invite;

Charlotte Bronte (because my favorite book is Jane Eyre, and I would love to pick her brains on how she came up with characters and stories)

My¬†father’s mother, my grandmother, Martha. She died when I was 10, but I remember her as I tall, thin, caring woman. I would love to sit her down and ask her questions of her youth and her home country Germany. I have no stories of my grandparents when they were younger, no family history and I would love to have been able to talk to her about¬†our history. (Actually I wish I could sit both grandmothers down and talk to them of family)

Painter Bob Ross. Yes, you know the one, the one with the big hair and the soft gentle hypnotizing voice. I used to watch his tv program Joy of Painting every week. I would love to sit him down and have him show me a few painting tricks. How to make happy trees, mountains and clouds. Plus I loved his soft voice. He just seemed like a really nice man too.


What can you always be found with?

Usually a cup of coffee. (Hey I couldn’t do a post without mentioning coffee!) Or my dog Sam, or a book. Sometimes all 3!

What is the most fun thing you did in school?

Wow, asking a difficult question here. I hated school. Well, correction, I didn’t really hate school, I just hated going to school. The schools I went to were some of the worst in the state of Wisconsin. Terrible schools, dangerous schools.

I can remember though, one teacher took the class to see a classical orchestra play. It was even at night. I think I was in like 8th grade. I’m not even sure what class I was taking as I know it wasn’t music, as I never took music class. It might have been English. Anyway, we went to this wonderful music theatre and listened to a couple of hours of classical music. I loved it! It was beautiful.

What’s something you know you do differently than most people?

Cook. I never taste my cooking as I do it. Most people do. Well makes sense, right? You taste your food as you cook so you know you added enough seasoning or whatever. I never do. I just do it by smell and looks. I don’t know why I rarely taste as I cook. But I don’t. I very rarely ever have anything turn out bad or under seasoned. I never think about it most times except when someone asks me why I never taste food as I cook (which a few people have asked me in the past).