Perspective

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I once saw a video on YouTube, that had to do with the weekly writing challenge I am about to tackle. For those curious, I will add the link to the bottom of the page. The premise of the video tells us to take care of our parents, because some day they will need us as much as we need them. The story I am about to share with you is part fiction, part non, I will leave it up to you to decide which is which, because isn’t that one of the best parts of a story? Keep you guessing? I have always thought so.

The life of a 20 something can be many things. For Roman Garner, it was a time to be reborn. He had married young, and divorced not much older. In that time he had two kids whom he loved very much. I know that there are stories out there about the dead beat Dads of the world, and I can assure you this man was not one of them. He was involved in his children’s schooling, and in their daily lives as much as he could. He had lunch with his children at school several times a week. In short, he was and is a great Dad.

Jessie Garner was his mother. She has always been a difficult woman to describe. To be honest from Roman’s perspective though, for 10 years now he only remembered one thing that almost always weighed on his heart. During the time of his divorce Roman had to stay with his parents. You know how parents can be, it didn’t matter that Roman was in his 20’s his mother felt he had to listen to what she said, and do it no matter what.

One night after Roman was out all night his mother and he had a discussion about how late he was staying out. Jessie always had a hint of bipolar in her, among other things. Even before her accident, she had trouble remembering things. That was the problem though, what she said at the end of this conversation was something Roman would never forget.

“Mom, I’m almost 30,”he said, “I am going to be back out on my own as soon as I can, we don’t need to be fighting all the damn time.”

“Roman,” she yelled back, “You are in my house, and until you pay us back and get the hell out of here you do what I say, and I don’t think you should be out all night.”

Roman walked from where he was standing by the walkway to the kitchen and sat on the couch opposite her.

“I am not going out when my kids are here,” he explained, “I go out during the week to have fun, and meet people, I am doing nothing wrong.”

“Yeah, you know what you little shit,” she yelled back again, “Keep it up and I will get my own lawyer and take away your rights as a father and those kids.”

Roman said nothing else in return, he simply stood up and went to his room. He went to bed that night, and his mother and he never spoke of what happened again. Why? Because 2 weeks later when he told her why he was hurt, she claimed to not remember any of it. Two weeks after that something happened that changed both of their lives entirely.

Jessie was at work, and suffered a brain aneurism. Through the grace of God and any other thing you can possibly think she survived, but she had lots of damage. She was never able to work, or drive, and she needed someone there to take care of her. She couldn’t remember things, and she had a habit of hurting herself. Nothing as terrible as you are probably thinking, she had a tendency to pick at her scabs, and pick, and pick and pick.

Six months or so after she was released from the hospital Roman was spending the day with her. He arrived at his parents house around 4 am so his Dad could work. After arriving, he made a bed for himself on the couch and set his alarm so he would awake around the same time his Mother did.

Two hours later he was woken up by his mother as she was running naked looking out the blinds.

“Chris,” she said confusing Roman for being her long gone brother, “have you seen my car? I know it was out here earlier and I have to drive to Hume to get more cigarettes because nothing in town is ever open this late?”

Roman sat up and tried not to look. After all, who wants to see their mother naked.

“Mom,” he said, “I’m not Chris, and you live in Hume.”

“What,” she answered, “No. My car. Where is it? Did that Son of a Bitch takes it or hide the keys from me?”

Clearly frustrated Roman stands up and thinks that yelling at her will help the situation.

“Mom,” he yells as she is looking out the window, “I am not Chris, I am your son Roman, you had an accident a while back and you get confused because of it, how about you just take your morning pills, get some damn clothes on and go back to bed.”

Ye yeyeyeye Yeah,” she stuttered as she often does when she gets stressed, “I’ll take my pipipipipills.”

Roman walked to the kitchen which was just the room over, and got the pills that were in a Dixie cup for him marked A.M. As he turned round his mother was already in the room with him. Without a word she took the pills and her day old mountain dew on the kitchen table and swallowed all of them at once, then walked to her bedroom.

Roman let out a sigh of relief and went back to his bed on the couch to get a few more hours of sleep before she was ready to be up for the day. He remained there asleep until almost 10 am when the front door slammed as Jessie was walking in the front door.

Roman jumped up and ran to the kitchen. She knew she wasn’t supposed to drive, and more importantly, she wasn’t supposed to be alone.

“Mom,” he began noticeably startled, “Where the hell have you been?”

Jessie shut the door, and then took off her OSU jacket without saying a word. She took the cigarette pack out of the pocket freshly bought from the gas station, and answered Roman with just one word.

“This,” she said as she waved it in front of him.

Roman didn’t really say anything else to her about it, because she was convinced she did nothing wrong. Driving to get cigarettes is simply what she has always done.

Perspective

“Roman,” Jessie yelled at her lazy son, “I have no idea what you are talking about, I just want you to have a little consideration when you are pounding in here at 3am.”

Roman ignored her and walked out of the kitchen and into his room which was right off the kitchen. Jessie lit up another cigarette, thinking not about Roman but the crap she had to deal with at work. Two minutes after Roman walked into his room, he came right back out.

“Mom,” he began with a break in his voice, “Do you really think I can take you seriously, when the last time I talked to you, and it wasn’t even about anything, you just…”

He stammered off outside, got into the used Chevy truck his Dad was letting him borrow, and took off towards his dead end job as a cook at a food chain that soon wouldn’t matter.

Jessie finished her cigarette and checked her phone one last time before she herself headed work. Her head was killing her. No texts. She grabbed her OSU jacket and climbed into her Ford Edge then drove the 5 minutes to work.

“Jesus,” she told her colleague on the production line at the factory, “My head is killing me.”

She put her hands on her head, trying to rub the pain away to no avail. Squinting her eyes to try and get rid of the light and remove the pain.

3 Months later.

Jessie was awake for the first time in 3 months on a Friday. Lying in her hospital bed, she still had a tracheotomy in her throat, and many different wires and tubes connected to help her recover and stay safe after her aneurism at work. The first day she was awake was probably the hardest. Yes it is always hard for family members, and this is no exception, as her husband was by her side almost every day hoping and praying. Through the trach she spoke her first words in months that morning.

“Cole,” she began almost indecipherable, “Did you go to the corner store? I said I needed milk for dinner.”

Tears began streaming down Coles face immediately. Jessie had no way of knowing of course but one of the many things that everyone had feared was the very real possibility of brain damage. They had not lived near the corner store in well over 10 years.

“Jessie,” Cole started to say, “Honey what year do you think it is?”

Roman walked in just as Cole had asked the question. He looked at his mother with the deepest concern on his face.

“1995,” she said very matter of factly.

“Jessie it can’t be 1995,” he answered, “Look, Roman is here how old do you think he is?”

“13,” she said, “I need to take him to the doctor to fix those pimpled.”

Tears filled the small hospital room, while Jessie took no real notice.

It hurt her to talk, so wasn’t able to express her thoughts as easily as she had liked. Why the hell would they be asking me dumb question. She knew what year it was, and she knew they were at their home in Smalls, Ohio. She had no idea while everyone was crying, but before she could give it much more thought she had fallen back to sleep.

The next thing she remembered was waking up in a room that was not hers. She lay in bed for a few minutes taking in her surroundings. It was dark outside, and Cole wasn’t lying next to her, but she didn’t take any alarm at this, she knew he had begun working the night shift, three years ago in 1992. She reached over to her night stand to grab her cigarettes and lit the last one up.

“Mmmm,” she said in almost pure ecstasy. Little to her knowledge this was her first cigarette in almost a year. Before she knew it the smoke had run its course, and she knew the corner store is always open so she hoped out of bed with nothing on, grabbed her keys from the key rack in the kitchen and went outside to find out her car was gone.

“That son of a bitch,” she said in a baritone like voice thinking Cole had taken her car because he was pissed that she had a small crush on a different man. Back inside, she had to find the keys.

As she walked into the house, and into the kitchen as well, she thought she had better sit down and figure this out because she just felt so tired, and knew that she would be better able to find them if she thought about it. By the time she had sat down, she had forgotten that the car wasn’t there, but still felt she needed to find the keys. She had her hands on the top of her head.

“What the hell,” she whispered.

Her hair was still gone from the many different surgeries that were needed to save her life. As a car passed by she got up, and went ran to the living room to peek through the windows to see if Cole had gotten home. Man was she going to let him have it she thought.

The moment she walked into the living room still naked and unaware she stopped. This wasn’t her house. She had never owned a house with a living room this big. Why the heck was her brother sleeping on the floor? She went to the front window to look. Nothing. The side window.Nothing.

She turned and began to poke Chris awake.

“Chris,” she said, “wake up.”

Roman stood up and told her he was not Chris.

Jessie didn’t like the game he was trying to play. She knew she wasn’t stupid, and she sure as hell knew who her brother was. Roman? That name did sound familiar to her. She shook it off and then went back to bed. Not hearing anything else Roman had to say.

As she lay in the darkness and loneliness of her room she tried to start putting things together. While she did she picked at the scabs on her head, and then on the scabs on her face that had appeared because she would not listen, and leave her face alone.

“This doesn’t make sense,” she whispered to herself, “I have no idea where I am, and why Chris is being such a jerk. Cole should be home soon.”

She reached over to grab her empty pack of cigarettes, forgetting they were empty. Upon realizing so, she threw the empty pack in frustration. She continued to lay there running her hands over the rough surface of her bald held.

“Screw it,” she said.”

She needed smokes and would do whatever she needed to do to get them. The only gas station near her home in Hume was 3 miles down the road. Again she walked out there naked except for the OSU red and black jacket and proceeded to walk to the Gas Station. In her mind the corner store was only two minutes down the road, so when it took her over two hours to walk that far, she still thought only minutes had passed.

“Ultra Lights please,” she said to the man at the counter.”

Why the hell is he looking at me funny? She wondered, but not for long, the man handed her the pack and she walked out the door unknowingly stealing the smokes. To help matters, the clerk said nothing to her, only continued to stare at her flabbergasted. The walk back was just as fast for her, and just as uneventful.

As she walked in the door her son attacked her.

“What the hell are you doing Mother,” Roman said to her clearly pissed off.

She said nothing.

“Mom!” he screamed.

Nothing.

Roman smacked her in the face and shoved her against the door before really laying into her.

“Mom,” he began, “What the hell are you doing? Why the hell am I even here? I can’t forgive you for threatening to take my kids. You need to listen! You are almost butt ass naked and you can’t even remember what year it is, you shouldn’t be going out!”

None of that was real of course. Though for Jessie, being yelled at the way she was yelled at by Roman, even if it was for her own good, it hurt like a punch in the face. Jessie knew she was a grown up, or at least she felt like one, but being yelled yet for doing things she didn’t think she did like picking her scabs.

She moved past Roman to lay in the comfort of her bed in her room alone. Before falling asleep she talked to someone she hoped was listening.

“Why,” she asked as tears took over her face, “Why G G  G G G G God, what did I ever do? I I I I I don’t know where I am, and I don’t know what is wrong with me. I wawawawawawawant to feel normal again, and all I feel is stupid stupid stupid. My own son and husband me, why y y y y y y  would you let this hahahahahahappen?”

The last 5 words Roman was almost not able to hear clearly from outside her door.

“I I I I I I jajajajajust want to die,” she said.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gsy4gVWqxws

Perspective.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/27/writing-challenge-shoes/comment-page-3/#comment-303546

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Perspective is a crazy thing isn’t it?

Tonight I’ll be finishing up a short fiction for the weekly writing challenge and man while writing it, it has certainly given me some perspective for sure. Twenty people can defiantly see the exact same thing and no two recounts would be the same. This is magnified even more so when family is involved. That is the challenge I tackled this week while continuing the book of short stories and I feel it has turned out well so I hope later tonight you give it a read.

Snow Angel Conclusion

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Rick could hear Jane yelling at him to hurry up, but he just couldn’t move. He stared at the two snow angels and suddenly hating himself for ever not liking them.

“Rick,” Jane shouted from the car, “Rick move your ass now, we need to leave, the sooner we get to the hotel the sooner I can go to sleep, now come ON.”

Finally able to break the paralyzed feeling Rick had, he ran to the parking lot and went from car to car peering into each car thinking someone may have taken her and are getting ready to leave. Around his 4th or 5th car Jane came over to figure out what was going on.

Rick, “she said softly as she lifted her hand up and held his arm, “Where’s Allie?”

“I don’t freaking know Jane,” he yelled as he shook her hand off of him, “I went to the tree and saw there was 2 snow angels made, and one of them was tall and big enough to be a man who was even taller than me.”

“What,” Jane asked with tears beginning to stream down her face, “Where…where is she?”

Rick knew nothing was going to get done, if he stood there and listened to her whine. He was sad too, but what the hell good would it do to be so upset that you stand there and do nothing when your daughter could be anywhere right now.

“Jane,” Rick began, “How about you go inside again and see if maybe she went inside I’ll keep checking the cars and then the woods behind her snow angel tree ok?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, “That’s all it probably is, she’s just inside.”

As Jane walked away Rick started trying car doors to get a more thorough look inside the cars. She had to be around here somewhere he thought. Things like this just don’t happen in real life.

Meanwhile, Jane was opening up bathroom stalls, and poking her head under the locked ones, not caring if the people in them were mad at all. When your child missing you find that there isn’t a whole hell of  a lot that you do care about other than finding your child. Nothing.

Jane stood back up after looking in the last stall and leaned against the wall, tears streaming down her face. She places her hands over her mouth, and cried, and cried. One of the stalls opened just then, it was an elderly woman that she had just seen when she looked in the stall.

“Crazy bitch,” the old lady said, “What in the hell is a matter with you, snooping in on people like that?”

Jane ignored her, she also ignored the other 2 women who came out of the stalls and called her the same thing, and worse, than the old lady had. After what seemed like just a minute to Jane, but in reality was 10 minutes or more, she was able to compose herself and head back out to the car. She swept her hands down straitening up her jacket and skirt and returned to the lobby.

“Mommy,” Allie screamed when Jane got into the lobby.

Jane ran over to her and hugged her tighter than she probably she have, but she couldn’t help it, this must have been a blessing from God.

“Oh baby,” Jane said as she held her close, “Where were you?

“I’m sorry Mom,” she answered, “The nice guy that works here, saw me making my snow angel, and came to join me to make one too.”

“You scared the hell out of me Allie,” Jane said.

“He just brought me to this closet room, to show me the cool stuff he gets to use to clean the restrooms with,” Allie said, “Did you know that if someone misses, and poops on the  floor that he would have to pick it up? That is so gross.”

Jane just smiled and took her hand.

“Yeah I know Allie,” Jane said, “let’s go find Daddy huh?”

Allie nodded her head up and down swiftly. Even though the rest stop didn’t scare Allie, like it did her parents, but Allie knew she didn’t want to be out here for too long. The moment they stepped outside, they could see Rick by their car. From the distance, it was hard to tell what he was doing, but Jane figured he was probably smoking another damn secret.

Upon approaching Rick, Jane noticed he wasn’t smoking. Damn lucky she thought, she would have left his ass if he lit up another one. No, he wasn’t smoking, but tears were rolling down his face. He looked up and saw Jane and immediately embraced her.

“Oh my God Jane,” he said, “You were gone forever, I didn’t know what was going on. I checked every single car, inside, outside, and even underneath them. Back in the forest I thought I was on the right trail, because I saw something move but it wasn’t her.”

Rick took in a deep breath to try and compose himself so he could get this out as quickly as possible.

“Jane,” he began, “I….I…I got to the car and she.” He paused.

“What Rick,” she screamed, “What the hell are you talking about, I found…”

“Come here,” Rick interrupted.

Rick grabbed her hand and held on tight. Jane thought this was incredibly weird, she doesn’t think he has held her hand in 5 years. As they approached the car Jane could see shoes, the same purple and yellow shoes that Allie was wearing. Rick opened the car door and said something to Jane. Jane was lost, she wouldn’t have been able to hear him if he was blowing a blow horn in her ear.

In the back seat lay Allie. Her head was bleeding and there was blood dripping off the side of the seat to the floor below.  Her eyes were closed and her arms were crossed intersecting each. She was gone. Rick had time to investigate before his wife came over, and it looked like someone had beaten her over the head. They then left her in their car.

“Oh my God,” cried Jane, “My Baby! Allie.”

Jane ran to the open door, shoving Rick out of the way so suddenly he actually fell on the ground. He hit the ground with a loud thud and an obvious scream of pain.

“My baby,” she said, “This can’t be  real, this just can’t be I just saw you walking with me. I touched your hand. This can’t be real, it just can’t be.”

Rick remained on the ground watching her, knowing there is something he should do, he needed  comfort her. After all the fighting, they had done, he wasn’t even sure she would want.

“Jane honey,” he said  as he got up and put his hand on her shoulder, “We need to call th police.”

For the rest of their lives, everywhere they went after it snowed, they had seen a snowangel. 

Current Writing

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Since I began putting my fiction on here, I think I have learned a few things. I find that not many people make comments on the things posted, either mine or anyone elses. I could be wrong, but I find many that like or follow my page, are up and coming writers themselves, and I can’t help but wonder if they are doing it just to get exposure. 

This all may or not be true, but lack of comments on here have made me focus more on getting a novel and/or a short story collection, self published on amazon. “It’s About Time,” short story book collection has been my main focus. You know how when you are writing something and you get really excited about it? That’s how I have been feeling about the title story to the short story collection. It all seems to just click. I find myself wondering if I should maybe expand it and just make a novel about it, or continue with the original plan. 

Any published authors out there? Do you find it easier to do short story collections?

Friday Fun – How Did You Go Pro?

Live to Write - Write to Live

Friday Fun is a group post from the writers of the NHWN blog. Each week, we’ll pose and answer a different, get-to-know-us question. We hope you’ll join in by providing your answer in the comments.

QUESTION: Here on Live to Write – Write to Live, each of us is a professional writer who makes her living by some manner of wordcraft. You may wonder, however, exactly how we wound up doing what we do today. Where did it all start?

headshot_jw_thumbnailJamie Wallace: Though I have always written, I have definitely not always made my living by writing. Far from it. I have been a sales clerk at a high-end jeweler, a retail buyer (of crystal and china), a project manager, an account executive, and a digital media producer. For most of my life, I kept my writing to myself. I considered it a private pleasure, not a professional endeavor…

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Five Sentence Fiction: “Sparks”

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After all of the things the two of them have been through Allison thought Jeremy would always love her. In the beginning the sparks between the two of them were undeniable when they looked at each other. Things had changed, though when Jeremy thought he could do anything without any consequences. Thinking he could keep the love they have shared for five years now, after what he did with one of his students. The only sparks in the air now, were the ones dancing off the blade as Allison sharpened her knife, while Jeremy stared in disbelief tied to the chair. 

 

http://lilliemcferrin.com/five-sentence-fiction-sparks/

 

Remotes These Days

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“No,” he said as he clicked the next button.

Miles smiled as the next girl appeared in front of him. Red hair, green eyes, wonderful.

“Too pale,” he muttered and clicked next.

Blonde, blue eyes, but she won’t smile.

Meh.”

The things we can do with a remote these days.

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http://mommasmoneymatters.com/flash-remote/

Snow Angel

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Allie Logan was in the back seat of her parents red Ford Escort staring blankly towards the dark  sky, hoping to be the first to see the snowflakes the weatherman had been talking about all week. Her forehead pressed against the window so she could feel the cold. Truth be told she was trying to drown out the constant arguing that she heard coming from the front seat. She used to listen to them intently when they kept her awake at night because she thought that if she listened she could find a way to fix them.

“Dad,” she said without taking her head away from the cold window, “Can we stop somewhere so I can go pee? I’ve had to go forever now.”

“Damn it Allie,” he began, clearly upset by the argument that was occurring in the front seat, “I told you before we left that you should have gone.”

“Rick stop,” her mother, Jane pleaded, “she is 10 years old, and if she has to pee she has to freaking pee. Stop being a prick.”

“Fine,” he said as he let out a defeated sigh, “We will stop at the next place we come across, but I swear to you Allie if you have to go again ten minutes after we leave there I’m slapping the piss out of you.”

“I won’t,”she said,”I promise.”

Allie knew she could never keep that promise. For as long as she remembered she had to go pee all the time. Her mom told her sometime last year that potty training her was the hardest thing she ever did in here life, because she always had to go. She readjusted herself in more of a lying down position and stared at the night sky.

This stretch of I-75 in Ohio seemed to go on forever with no gas stations or rest stops anywhere. It ended up taking a great deal longer to find a place they could stop so it took about an hour before they came across anything. The drive felt even longer to Allie since the arguing had stopped, but it was replaced with a painful silence. She had just started to fall asleep when she was jerked out of her sleep.

“ Jesus damn,” Rick said as he hit his hand on the steering wheel. “Is this the only rest stop on this highway? There’s no damn place to park.”

“Dad!” Allie screamed in excitement, “It must have snowed here already, look there’ enough snow so I can make a snow angel.”

Rick used to think it was cute that Allie constantly wanted make snow angels whenever there was snow on the ground. One morning when she was 6 it had snowed the night before, and Allie begged to go outside to play. She was out there for hours, and had made snow angels on every square inch of their yard.

It was at this point that Rick had decided that it was a little weird. Now any time they went out and snow was on the ground, she threw a fit until she was allowed to make snow angels. To be fair though, that was the only thing she was ever adamant about, so she usually won.

Rick drove around the parking lot for another 10 minutes before finally finding a spot. It was at the far end of the grounds, past the car parking, and even past the semi parking. Before Rick even got the car parked Allie burst out the door and ran at full speed towards the amazing spot under a pine tree where the snow was the perfect depth.

“Damn it Allie wait,” her father shouted after her.

“Leave her be Rick,” Jane said.

That was all it took. Rick was so tired of the fighting, he just wanted 5 minutes to himself away from Jane.

Jane headed towards the bathrooms, while Rick lit up one of the many cigarettes he was hiding from Jane. As far as she knew he had been smoke free for over a year. Rick leaned against the Escort and stared at the sky, much he same way Allie had done on the way here. For the rest stop being so busy it was oddly silent. Rick assumed it was due to the fact that it was 2am, and like his mother always said, nothing good happens after 1am. He relished the silence and could have stayed like that for hours.

While Rick was savoring the last smoke, he would ever have Allie found her own corner of heaven. Sprawled out waving her arms and legs back and forth staring at the sky, she couldn’t have been happier. There was no sky to be seen, which was of course due to the snow that didn’t show even a hint of stopping.

Jane walked out of the building, with her eyes on the Taurus. She could see the light on Ricks cigarette the moment she stepped back into the cold and put her hood up.

“That son of a bitch,” she was whispering to herself, “ I knew he was still smoking, I am so sick of his shit.” Ignoring the man she walked past as she spoke to herself, she only had eyes for the betrayal she saw at the other end of that cigarette.

“Hey,” she screamed as she stepped onto the parking lot, “What the hell is that huh? I thought you quit over a year ago huh?”

Rick rolled his eyes, knowing that this argument was going to take up the entire trip home. He took his last puff, and flicked it on the ground, having no interest in looking at Jane as she approached.

“Just get your daughter and get in here so we can get the hell home,” Rick said, still not bothering to look at her. The past few years have made it so Rick didn’t even think it was worth being nice to his wife. To him she was a bother that was only sent to him, to bother the hell out of him. At times he was fairly certain that, he couldn’t even stand to look at his own daughter, because she shared the same green eyes he saw in Jane every time he looked at her.

As Rick opened the door Jane ran up to him and slammed it shut.

“No,” she said, “How about you go get your daughter Rick.”

The way she stared at him, Rick knew this was going to be one of the things he had to give in to. She was determined to win this battle, and probably the next six arguments, since in her mind, anyway, Rick had just done the most evil thing imaginable.

“Whatever,” Rick mumbled, and he walked away towards the picnic area where he thought Allie had went to.

Rick approached the tree and knew he was right, because he saw the snow angel that Allie had undoubtedly made. There wasn’t just one snow angel though, and there wasn’t a million of them like she had made at home before.

“What the,” he whispered as he stared at what was in the snow.

Allie was no where to be seen. Not even her footprints. In the snow was the snow angel that Allie had made, and another one. Made by someone taller and wider.

“Rick,” Jane yelled from the car, “I’m driving now move your ass,get your daughter and lets go.”

Rick didn’t move.

“She’s gone,” he said to himself.

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Conclussion of this coming at the end of the week. SHare it! Reblog it! Comment. I would very much appreciate it!

How Telling and Not Showing Is Destroying your Story

crainindustries

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As writers, we tend to get some pretty horrific and often useless criticisms.  I am sure you have heard “Show, Don’t Tell” a jillion times. It probably makes you want to tear your hair out. Maybe you’re wishing that you could get some actual feedback, but “Show, Don’t Tell” is actually good advice. Here are some ways you can use it to your advantage.

Think of your manuscript as a play. There are actors on the stage during a play with the narrator behind the scenes. The narrator’s purpose is to tell the audience what is happening, but it’s more interesting for the audience to watch what is happening on the stage. Try to keep the narrator out of your story as much as you can. It’s necessary to narrate, of course, but don’t let the narration tell the whole story.

For example, you might write Uncle Jeb loves…

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© 2014 Robert D Lyons II

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I started this blog not to long ago seeking input from people that were not friends and family. I encourage anyone and everyone to comment, share, facebook it, digg it, reddit it or whatever else there it out there. I seek to share my reading with any and everyone that I can. Many of the pt 1’s and such are the beginnings of a story i am putting in anupcoming self published book of short stories on Amazon, entitled “About Time,” after the short on this website. Please comment, share, and reblog, I would be more than happy to return the favor for the other writers out there.

However everything on this blog, that I have written, whether it be a part or a full story, does belong to me. © and all, so if you aren’t sure if it is ok to do something, just ask!