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If I Should Die
Peyton Farley has settled into a new life in southwest Montana. Research and fact checking for a local newspaper is a perfectly safe job, or is it? One morning, Peyton awakens and finds a strange man in lace up work boots who is bleeding out on her kitchen floor. As Peyton calls 911 from her bedroom, someone is stealing the body.
Milk Carton People
Milk Carton People is a paranormal thriller about people who suddenly find themselves invisible, able to observe things but unable to participate. Do they go mad? Maybe they find others. It is quite possible that there is no point in being invisible.
Tag Archives: writing
It is time to dust off some of those projects in search of a seed, plotline, character or even a very rich scene that could become my next novel. Continue reading
Her closet is nearly empty. She doesn’t have much in the way of hanging clothes. Two pairs of shoes, one pair of running shoes and one pair of dark dress shoes. A simple black dress hangs with a summer printed sundress. Most of her clothes are in a dresser. Today, she reaches into the closet and takes the summer dress and simple shoes. She slips the dress on over her head and shrugs it into place where the skirt part settles over her narrow hips. She toes on the shoes and fluffs her hair in front of a full length mirror. She leans in to check her mascara and leaves the room without a trace. Continue reading
The sky is lit by a new moon in the old moon’s arms. The wind blows clouds and stirs the water into choppy waves and lifts some of the woman’s hair. Moonlight glints from the swords she holds. Her arms are crossed at the wrists. She sits barefoot on stones in a nightdress, her back to the weather. This woman wears a blindfold. Continue reading
I am really just stalling. I have a project that has been completed, as much as a third, forth or fifth draft can be completed. I have set this aside long enough that the next two read throughs will surprise … Continue reading
My personal vulture sneaks in with the delete and backspace keys on my lap-top. I remember the olden days, when color was grainy, hair was big and deleting things involved bits of torn off carbon paper and a sharp edge.
Eyes do some incredible things, especially in fiction. I’ve read about eyes falling upon, dropping, dragging, darting, skimming, rolling up and back, fluttering, blinking, and closing. Eyes pop, glow, screw up, screw up to the sun, squint, and are pressed upon by darkness.
I’m trying to cut and paste, watch the conversation and the Parrot is walking across my hand crocheted rug with two slices of pizza. I might have missed a beat but I got the pizza back and got someone to capture and imprison the bird. What could possibly happen?
I have a few other novels with much more potential and a few of them are out in the endless loop of submission-rejection-resubmission. This marketing side of writing is confusing and those who make it through the maze, seem to have equal shares of luck, thick skin and skill.
I do not think I taught the lesson well and it is going into the notebook as a topic whose probability of need is an extreme outlier. At least, if someday, at some job, sitting next to a co-worker upping the nerd scale, he can say something like, “but can you show me a Box and Whisper Plot?” And besides that, what if the Hokey-Pokey is what it’s all about?