THE BITCH IS BACK!!!!

Did ya miss me? Did ya huh, huh, huh? 

Okay so I'm a little excited.  I fell off the blogosphere when life caught up.  I MISSED it though. I know I never got to finish up with a lot of stuff I was doing, but meh moving and other such things got in the way. The hubby and I are in our place.  Thank you powers that be!  It was a long time coming and seriously, there's a lot less stress now that we're not sharing space with three or four other people.  So YAY for being on our own!

I've been working on NanoWrimo, or rather I was except I got thrown off the last couple of days because I wound up at a funeral on Monday.  No one likes funeral's or having to say goodbye, and it seems like I've been to far too many before I even hit thirty.  (Still haven't hit it, just sayin'.)

I finished one novel though and I'm in the process of editing it.  My Wrimo novel is sort of a sequel to that, but not.  It was on a whim because November came entirely too fast.  Still writing is writing and I love to write and figure that maybe when I start a project on a whim the crap will come out first before it starts to take shape.  That's my story and I'm sticking too it.

Unfortunately I feel like crap today. My allergies are hitting me hard now that it's warming up again. Florida has plant life year round, so pollen, ragweed, all that lovely stuff that makes you sneeze ten ways from Sunday.  Anyone want to exchange noses?  No?  Yeah I wouldn't want to trade with me either.

On that note, I really need to go and shower. My pup has an appointment at the vet for a booster shot.  You'll be hearing from me soon. ;)

Sunday Scribbles! (Ha that's right! I'm doing it on Sunday this time!

Okay if you missed the first part of Route 4 you can check it out Here.

Without further ado...

Route 4: Part Two

My jaw was gaping as John Doe looked around.  He seemed more curious than frightened.  My heart was pounding in my chest.  His gaze settled on me, eyes grayish and waxy.  “Is this the morgue?”

Unsure what to say or do, I simply nodded.  Was there protocol for when the dead sat up and started talking to you?  If there was I must have missed that seminar at the last convention.  This was a first for me.  I was very much a deer caught in the headlights.

“So I’m dead…” He lifted his hands looking at them closely. “It would explain why I feel no heartbeat in my chest.”

“I suppose it would.” My voice was quiet, filled with disbelief.  It was one thing to work with the dead all night.   It’s not like I haven’t talked to a dead body before.  Most often was something was eluding me to how they died.  They had never spoken back before.  It was a little unnerving that John Doe was.

He adjusted the sheet to cover him more comfortable and then rested his hands on the cold, metal table.  It was a bit late for modesty.  I had already performed an autopsy on him.  His chest and belly were sewed up in the stand ‘Y’ shape.  My eyes and hands had scoured every inch of his body searching for anything that would not only help the police find his killer, but maybe help identify John Doe as well.

“How did I…?”

I pointed to his forehead.  “You were um…”  Shot in the head?  Had your brains blown out? Murdered? For some reason it seemed rude to say it in any of those ways.  Where ever the spirits went after death, it was the greeter’s job on that side to tell them what happened if they didn’t remember.  At least I would assume.  My job was figuring out the last message they left behind.

He reached his hand up, fingers grazing over the bullet hole.  He opened his mouth slightly as realization hit.  “Oh dear, this is quiet embarrassing.”

I shrugged.  “Not really.  I’ve seen deaths a lot less dignified than yours.”

He raised a bushy eyebrow.  “Really?  Anyone you can think of in particular?”

Realization hit that I was having a conversation with a dead man.  Since he wasn’t overly scary and apparently hadn’t risen as a flesh eating zombie, I started to feel the same annoyance I got when around the living.  I hated chatty Kathy’s and gossip mongers.

“Look, I’ve still got work to do.”  I tried to keep my voice as neutral as possible.  “So maybe you can help me out by telling me your name?”

“I didn’t come here to tell you that.”  He suddenly looked confused.  “Not sure how I know that.”  His gray eyes settled on me again.  “This is an odd predicament isn’t it?”

I held my thumb and index finger about an inch apart.  “Little bit, yeah.” I shrugged.  “I’ve spent a lot of time speaking for the dead, but this is the first time the dead actually verbally spoke back.  I gotta tell you pal, it’s a unnerving.”

“Pal.”  It rolled over his tongue.  He seemed to ponder the word for a moment before nodding.  “Yes, Pal will do.  You may call me Pal if you wish.”

My eyes widened ever so slightly.  “Right.” I lengthened the word.  It was slow, drawn out.  A soft word of sarcasm and surprise.  “Somehow I don’t think the name Pal is going to help the police find your next of kin.”

Pal gave a small smile.  “Ahh yes, that’s why I’m here.  I remember now.”  Reaching up he absently scratched the bullet hole.  Admittedly it was a little bit sickening to watch. 

Said the medical examiner talking to the dead guy.

I was beginning to think I was losing my mind.  I was, after all, sitting here having a conversation. 

Pal had been sitting in silence for a few moments.  He had trailed off and was now staring at the morgue body coolers.  “Oh my, I’m a bit claustrophobic. I won’t be put in one of those drawers will I?”

Usually by the time the dead were put in there they didn’t care.  Pal would be the first to even have an opinion on the subject.  Somehow though, I didn’t think that’s why he was here.  I snapped my fingers to draw his attention back.

“Hey, concentrate.  What are you here for?”

He blinked and brought his gaze back to me.  “Forgive my rudeness.”  Pal nodded. “I’m here because you are indeed a friend to the dead.  You often say for us what we can no longer say ourselves.”

I supposed some people could see what I do as noble.  In reality, the dead were a lot easier to get along with than the living.  I shrugged.  “It’s my job.”

“So it is, but what you do is still a favor towards those no longer living.” He held up a pale finger.  “Thus the dead wish to return the favor.”

My eyebrows rose.  “You’re here to kill me?

He scoffed.  “Goodness me no.” He almost looked offended by the notion.  “However would you be able to continue helping the dead if you died yourself?”  He waved the thought away.  “No my dear girl, I am here to warn you.”

“If you say I’m going to be visited by three ghosts I’m going to check myself into the psych ward.”

He smiled then.  “No ghosts.  Just me.”  He adjusted the sheet again.

“Well then could cut to the chase, Pal?  I’ve got work to do.” Leaning back in my chair, I crossed my arms over my chest.  Maybe I had come off as rude, but I wasn’t a people person.  Not even a talking dead people person.  Besides I was still debating on whether or not I’d fallen asleep at my desk or knocked my head on my something.  This could also be one very intense, very vivid hallucination.

“Very well,” Pal said.  “If you insist.”

“I do.”

“No need to get your knickers in a twist.”

I cringed.  “You’re dead.  Please don’t think about my knickers.  It’s really creepy.”

“Just a phrase my dear, just a phrase.”

“Can we get on with this?”

Pal made a movement that very much made me think he wanted to sigh.  Then he straightened and looked at me with those dead, gray eyes.

“Your normal route.  The one you drive every day to and from work?”

I raised a brow again when he phrased it as more of a question.  “What about it?”

“Take a detour.”  Pal’s gaze was piercing into me.  “We don’t wish you among the dead so soon.”

A chill slithered down my spine. Pal had been vague, but his point came across crystal clear. 

Something was going to happen my way home.  It obviously wasn’t anything good.  In fact it would most likely result in my death.   Then again I still wasn’t sure this was actually happening.

“If I avoid my usual route, will it stop whatever it is that’s going to happen?  Or will someone else take my place?”

Pal raised and dropped one shoulder.  A half hearted shrug.  “It isn’t for me to say.  Only for you to decide.”

“No pressure.”

He smiled. “Life is not easy, nor is death.  Every decision has consequences.”  Pal looked off into the distance as if seeing something that I couldn’t. Something that was only meant for the eyes of the dead.

Sunday Scribbles!

Happy Sunday everyone!  I hope you all had a peaceful and relaxing weekend. I wish I could say that mine was, but it really wasn't.  The hubby's been sick all weekend and we had to take a trip to the airport.  We had to pick up my ninety-two year old grandfather and his car since his buddy was getting on a plane.  It wouldn't have been so bad if they hadn't arrived way to early and not told us that they parked the car instead of waiting at the terminal.  The airport became my own personal merry-go-round.  We drove in a circle three or four times waiting on them. 

I also think I'm getting whatever stomach bug the hubby had, which does not amuse me.  I would rather have a cold for a week than the stomach flu for twenty four hours.  Insane right?  I'm one of those people who can not stand throwing up. I never could.  Even as a little kid.  It's just so blech!

Anyways, moving on!

Crusader's News!
I have followed over a hundred of you!  YAY I'm getting there!  I promise!  I really can't stand putting all those codes in so I follow about twenty or so people, wait a bit and follow more.  I'll have you all followed in the end though!

I also hope to have my First Crusader's Challenge up tomorrow.  I have to do some work first, but then it's all gravy baby!  Then again I really shouldn't say that and jinx myself. >.<

I still don't know why my Crusader pic is being all stretchy.  I've tried putting it on the sidebar ten different ways and it just stretches.  I don't think it likes me very much.

Moving on to writing news.

Since it's Sunday and I like the idea of Sunday Scribbles, I'm going to put a bit of a story in this post.  Nothing spectacular or great, but hey, the more I write, the better I get.  So without further ado.

Route 4 - Part One

It started out as one of those days where despite the fact the sun was shining brightly overhead, the moon could be seen sitting across from it in the sky.  It was as if the agents of night and day were at odds.  They sat on opposite sides of the world facing off against each other.

Four in the afternoon was a late start in the day for most.  I work the graveyard shift at the city morgue.  I would be crawling into bed just as the sun was coming up to start a new day.  I had a long way to go before then.  My day was just beginning.

Standing on my front porch, a cup of coffee in my hand, I looked from the sun to the moon.  A frown settled on my lips.  My gaze kept flicking to and fro, wondering why they were once again at odds.  Somehow, whenever they were battling over the sky, something odd was bound to take place.  At least it always did for me.

The sun and the moon were feuding.  Something wasn’t right in the world.  Okay a lot wasn’t right in the world,  but whenever I saw them in the sky together odd things happened.  Goosebumps brushed over my skin, despite the warmth of the day.  Shivering, I wandered back inside.

I dumped my coffee cup into the sink and rinsed it out, peeking out the window.  After eyeing the sun and the moon for a moment again, I wandered off to the shower.  As the hot spray of water washed away the remnants of sleep I thought about the last time the two had been feuding.

It had been a quiet night at the morgue.  Only two bodies had come in.  One was from a car accident.  Cause of death was blunt force trauma.  The other was a John Doe that had taken a bullet between the eyes.  They were both pretty cut and dry.  It was up to the police to figure out who the John Doe was.  My only job was to find out how they had died and why.

I was transcribing my notes from the voice recorder to the computer.  My assistant, George had gone home early.  There was no sense in both of us staying on such a slow night.  If things picked up I could always call him back, but it seemed doubtful. 

George had a fiancé at home anyways.  They were getting down to the final details and I didn’t want the bride to be calling the morgue all night having panic attacks because of some easily fixable problem. I prefer the quiet.  It’s one of the reasons I chose to be a Medical Examiner. The dead don’t talk.  At least not out loud.

“Hello.”

I hadn’t heard anyone come in, but that wasn’t unusual.  I tended to become completely engrossed in my work, often not noticing my surroundings.

“I’m not done with the report.”  I didn’t bother to turn around.  “I told the detective I’ll have it ready for him in the morning.  It’s not morning.”

There was silence for a moment.  The sound of feet shuffling for the door didn’t come.  I really didn’t need or want a cop staring over my shoulder while I put the report together.  I’d been doing this for five years now and my work was always meticulous.  Having a shadow hovering over my shoulder was distracting and annoying.

“You can go now.” I snapped.  “No reason to stay.”

“What is this place?”

I groaned.  Apparently I’d been wrong.  It wasn’t the cops waiting on the report.  It was more than likely an Alzheimer’s patient that had snuck out from the geriatric ward and gotten lost.  It happened from time to time.  They were sneaky when they wanted to be.

Pressing pause on the voice recorder I swiveled around in my seat.  There was a fake smile on my lips.  I didn’t want to poor guy to think I was being rude.  He was old and sick, and probably lost and scared.  I may not like people much, but I wasn’t cruel about it.

I had been prepared to face an old man, confusion wide in his eyes.  What I had not been expecting was for John Doe to be sitting up.  The gaping hole that looked like a third eye in the middle of his forehead really should have prevented that.

So Close, Yet So Far

Last night as I was dozing off to sleep I got a story idea.  I love it when inspiration strikes.  I started jotting down notes and ideas for it, but I'm so excited to actually start on it.  It's always exciting to start a new writing project.  It's fresh.  New characters, new plot.  All the details to figure out of this new world.  It always excites me to start a story.

Which makes me wonder why I'm having such a hard time ending the current story I'm working on.  I want to finish it.  I love the story.  Is it that I don't want it to end?  Maybe I just can't find an ending that fits?  Maybe I've lost interest in the direction it's gone? If I've lost interest than more than likely the readers would too.  Except I don't know if that's the case and I'm just frustrated because every line I try to right is like ripping off my fingernails.  It makes me want to scream.  So close yet so far.

So, here's what I've decided.  This new project, while I'll still write down ideas, and characters, and all the fun stuff like that, I'm not going to let it over shadow the project I'm currently working on.  Meaning, I'm not going to actually writing the story, until I've completed this one. 

Now that doesn't mean I'm not going to probably jot down short stories and things like that, but this new story idea wouldn't be a short story.   I really want to finish the story I'm working on though and then while I'm going back to edit it, I can start the new project.

Friday Night Write's...Or Not

I usually do my posts as soon as I wake up, but there was too much commotion today.  The hubby hasn't been feeling well so he was mopey.  Don't get me wrong, he's absolutely adorable when he's mopey, but it's very distracting and makes it hard to get anything on or off the computer done.  Of course then the morning was gone and I had to get on task with everything else I had to do today.

After shopping, cooking, cleaning, running errands, picking a friends dog that we're watching tonight, and hair dying fun (from a box, as I am too pour to go to a salon)  I finally get a moment at my computer.  The hubby is raiding on WoW, the dogs have been fed, everyone's good to go. 

So why am I not writing?

It's only 7:45 pm and everyone is still awake.  My mom wants to have a drink with me tonight and the Holy Grail of TV is on tonight.  Supernatural.  Friday nights and weekends seem to be the hardest times for me to write.  There's always something going on.  There's always another errand or another chore that wasn't gotten to during the week, plus family togetherness time.  Plus, ya know, sometimes you just want to take a break because it's the weekend and have fun.

I managed to finish another short story yesterday, but still no luck on the actual manuscript.  I wonder if my muse for that is blatantly ignoring me.  It sure as hell seems like it.

Now don't get me wrong.  All of the above are simply excuses.  One reason or another that I have written today.  I could be staring at my manuscript right now trying to pull out that next sentence, dragging it by the ankles kicking and screaming.  I could be starting another short story or editing one of the completed works.  The truth is right now, I just don't have the energy to think that much.

Writing every day is a good thing, but I feel like if I push it too much I'll burn myself out.  No it won't be permanently, but whether it be for a day or a week, I'll look at a blank page in Word or stare at my journal as though it's sprouted horns.  I really don't want that to happen. 

So, tonight I'm taking a break.  That doesn't mean that later in the night when I have a nice buzz going on, and I'm relaxed that I won't open word or pull out my journal.  It could very well happen.  Just at this moment particular moment I've decided that I'm not going to stress over it.  Besides, sometimes taking a break and relaxing will help the ideas flow better.

The Kick Butt First Line Contest!

Jaime Rush - Kick Butt First Line Contest!

So this is a neat little contest that I joined last year.  It's really easy and fun.  You just come up with an opening line to a story.  It could be funny or dramatic, quirky or sad.  Whatever you want so long as it catches the readers eye.  Let's face it, if you don't have a good start to your story, the reader isn't going to get hooked and they probably won't make it to the middle of it, let alone the end.

I entered the contest last year.  It's actually really fun.  I kept jotting down sentences and then I had my friends and family vote on which three I should use.  (You can have up to three entries.)  It's a good way to practice writing first lines that really catch your reader.

Worse case scenario, you don't win. Still, you won't know until you try! Besides, no matter what, it's good practice.

It's 10:30am and I Feel Accomplished

At least for now.  There's still plenty more to be done today, but I've already posted the second half of the short story.  Hopefully you guys will enjoy it.  I enjoy feedback too, so if you have an opinion I'd love to hear it!  Honestly it's not one of my favorites, but I figured that's why I'd start with it.  Honestly if I didn't I'd probably wind up making excuses not to post it, which would turn into excuses not to post others, and then I'd just doubt myself and nothing would get done.

I always worry whether my writing is good.  I've simply come to the conclusion that not all of it's going to be good.  There are going to be drafts and revisions, good and bad critiscism, but if I let that get to me, I'm never going to go anywhere with it.  So I figure to get to the good stuff, I need to write through the bad.  More than likely you're going to read a lot more of my bad works, than my good ones, just because of the simple fact, most of them are probably bad.

That's okay though, I won't get good until I get through the bad.

On a different note Writer's Digest is on the list of top 50 magazines followed on Twitter! 
















Congratulations Writer's Digest!

Good Morning, Good Afternoon, Good Evening, or Good Night.....

Pending of course on where you live.  I live on the east coast and have been up since ridiculously early o'clock in the morning. I've just redone my blog.  Believe it or not having been started yesterday I quickly decided to bring it over to Blogger for the time being.  It's more flexible than other places and I seem to be able to do more here.  At least it wasn't a month or two into it before I switched.

Unfortunately since I've been up since ridiculously early o'clock and didn't go to bed till sometime between the dead of night and sunrise, I am utterly exhausted.  I need to finish this short story I've been working on and type up a few others.  I tend to write short stories in a journal.  This way I don't have as many shiny internet options distracting me.

Short attention span + Sully = Lots of distractions.

Then let's face it.  There's youtube, stumbleupon, twitter, facebook, etc etc.  I think they may have been designed by the devil to consume our souls sometimes.  You think you're going to watch just one video, but then it's another and another.

This is why I find writing in a journal (at least for short stories and poetry and random gibberish thoughts) so much easier.  I stay more focused and am more productive when there aren't so many things that give me an excuse to procrastinate.

Speaking of procrastinating.... I'm hopefully going to have a short story up later in the day.  I need coffee.  Perhaps a lobotomy. Though really, sleep does sound wonderful.  But I am up, so I might as well get into making this a productive day.  Coffee first.  Otherwise I will continue sitting at the computer looking like a lifeless zombie and probably go to do something and wind up staring at the screen.

Hello fellow bloggers, readers, writers, or just random people who may stroll by! This is my first post, on my new blog, on a new day.

Every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end.  I know my story has already started.  I’m somewhere in the middle right now, and to be honest, I have no idea where it’s headed.  There always seems to be confusion, and trials and tribulations, and honestly sometimes it feels like the world just wants to be beat me down into the ground.   It’s like a bully that kicks when you’re down and promises that if you get up you’re only going to suffer more.  Sometimes I get up and there’s more heartache to face, and sometimes I get up and the bully backs down.

Then there are the moments of happiness.  The days when for once everything goes right.  Whether it be just because I accomplished something, or I can feel the overwhelming love flowing over my husband.  Sometimes those days seem few and far between, but I’ve learned that if you don’t learn to look for them you won’t find them much either.

Confused yet?  Welcome to my life.

Here’s the thing about it though.  In all the chaos and malarkey, the shenanigans and confusion, one thing has always made sense.  One thing has always kept me sane.  Well at least mostly sane.

Writing.

Whether it be journal writing, poetry, songs, short stories, just typing up a massive vent to get my frustration out.  Writing has always been there to help me sort out my thoughts, let my creativity flow, and help me express my feelings.  It’s amazing, the power of words.  They can make people laugh, cry, feel empathy or sympathy, or a cascade of other emotions.  Yet it can be so hard to determine the right word to convey what you want to say.

I’ve been writing since I was seven years old.  Maybe since before then.  The only reason I’m proof positive of seven is because my mom went through an old photo album/scrapbook and pulled out a horribly hand written story by a seven year old, entitled The Haunted House.  I can’t say my tastes have changed much since then.  I enjoy writing dark fiction, urban fantasy, and horror (also reading them as well). I am honestly glad my mother showed me the story.  It made me realize that writing is something I’ve always done and will always do.  Nothing can stop me.  While all of it may not be, and probably isn’t very good, it’s something I am passionate about and enjoy doing immensely.

So, in honor of my passion, this blog is going to be dedicated to short stories, poetry, and any other scribbles that I’ve written.  I also intend to post about my writing process.  So prepare yourself for scribbles, rants and ravings, thoughts and ponders, good and bad stories, and a good old fashion vent from time to time.  Maybe in the process I’ll figure out where my personal life story is headed.  I hope you enjoy them!

SS