New Feature Rory’s Story Cube Inspired Flash Fiction

I realized two things the other day. First, Matt gave me a really cool Christmas gift last year that I’ve been struggling to figure out how to use. Second, I need to get back into short story writing again.

Specifically, flash fiction.

Technically, flash fiction word count ranges from about 300 to 1500 words. That was where I got my start as a fiction writer.

My countless journals are a testament to that fact. And I kinda miss the style of shorter pieces. Words must all have impact. There’s no time for fluff. Dialogue is only there to further a characteristic or a plot point. Nothing meanders.

Luckily, Matt’s gift is the perfect way to inspire myself into some flash fiction.

And thus, a new blog feature was born!

The gift in question, Rory’s Story Cubes, are nine dice cubes, all with six sides a piece. The object is to put them in the bag, spin the bag string around your finger, and smack yourself in the brain with a basic layout for a fun story.

Yes, yes, I know. You’re only supposed to figuratively smack yourself with inspired brilliance.

Roll the dice out of the bag and use the images to jolt a creative burst.

I tried it today and I’m already hooked.

The images are great, multiple definitions and meanings are possible even in the same image. That’s because meanings can be inferred from the context of the cube images as a whole, whatever comes to mind first per image, or any combination of both of those concepts.

Actually, there are endless combinations! (Okay, to be fair, there is a real number and I think it has something to do with “to the power of” or “x is equal to y” but that involves a level of math I don’t feel comfortable trying so I’m just sticking to words.)

So here’s the picture of the roll I’m using to start this up next month. What do you think? What are some things you might associate with the images?

Like I said, I’m already hooked. I’ve got an outline and some story written for this roll already.

I’m going to make a go at doing this as a once a month feature here on the blog and we’ll see where it goes from there.

So if you want to check out some new flash fiction every month, come on over every forth Friday. The first story goes up on May 25, 2018. 

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In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Blame the Houseguests?

In the past month or so, our house has been a bustling hive of out-of-town guests. From friends to family, Matt and I have been happy to welcome our peeps with open arms.

I have zero regrets about spending time with people I love but company always means one thing. Forced vacation for me.

Though, it doesn’t have anything to do with our guests. Our guests are great. If I want to come in the office and work, none of my family or friends are opposed to me doing that of course. They’re all grown-ass individuals who can certainly entertain themselves for however long I’m inspired.

It’s just, I’m just never inspired anymore.

I want to blame the visits, different energy floating around our house, lack of consistent quiet, or whatever other excuse is most convenient to apply as to why I’ve barely put more than two words on the page since I wrapped NaNoWriMo last November.

But applying false blame is a plotline better left in one of my books.

If I ever write one again.

Ugh. I swear. It’s like my characters are up there in my brain, rattling around and screaming at me to get their stories out but I just can’t seem to organize anything long enough to bring it to the end.

I don’t believe in writer’s block but I do believe in creative drought.

Thing is, I’m not entirely sure how to re-fill my pond of creativity. It’s out there in the sun, festering algae and slimy bits as hordes of little vampire mosquitoes sink their time sucking teeth into my brain.

Maybe it’s lack of sleep. I sure haven’t gotten enough recently. Maybe it’s panic about getting older body changes. Or maybe I’m just mentally worn out.

I hate…wait, no, that’s too weak a word…I abhor being unproductive. Feeling like I’m lazy. But I loathe putting in 150 million percent effort for zero return even more.

So I’m in this place right now, stuck between really wanting to just keep going because it’s not only what I do but who I am, and giving up entirely to go become a full-time virtual assistant with a real salary and someone to validate my existence.

Yeah, I’m not getting that office job. Even if I’m able to work in my own office in jammies. If I give up now just to go get a paycheck then I’d feel like a bigger sell-out than if I just keep at this grind and finally start selling some of my work to Hollywood.

The dream.

Goals, increasingly lofty or not, are my true motivation right now.

Because, I don’t know how long it’s been since I started dreaming of seeing my name in the credits of a movie somewhere, but I fully intend to make that dream a reality in the next couple years.

And I’m looking at you, Hallmark movie channels!

But, if I ever hope to get there I have to stop rambling on in blog posts and start getting serious about writing commercially viable books.

Guests, gone. House, quiet. Fingers, typing.

Let’s do this.

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In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Backyard Landscaping Like a Boss

Matt. Seriously guys, there is no man on this planet more awesome than my husband. He loves the outdoors, landscaping, gardening, planting. And thank goodness for that because, in my world, the thought of even something as simple as mowing a lawn sounds horrible.

Not to say I don’t like the outdoors. I do. It’s just that most of the activities I enjoy doing outside involve water and relaxing next to it.

Put me on a beach, beside a river, lakeside, in my pool. Give me a canoe, floaties, a low-seated chair that allows me to dig my toes into the sand while I read a cheezy book.

Ahhhhh……

Raking, pruning, hoeing, and tilling? Uh, no thanks. Nature is supposed to be about having fun, breaking away from the mundane life of a rat on a wheel. To me, landscaping, gardening, is not spending time in nature. It’s torture. Especially under the hot Arizona sun.

But, my husband enjoys taking on all of that stuff. He feels a huge level of pride when he completely transforms the front yard from ghetto weed garden to Zen-raked gravel perfection.

And he should take pride.

I won’t deny that it always looks great, but I also won’t deny that I’m thrilled I wasn’t the one who had to get it to that point.

But he’s a virtual rock star with a pitchfork. Or, in this case, a tiller.

So, our general plan is to break up the monotony of the backyard and install an area where we might actually hang out. Somewhere other than our covered patio. The grassy area in our backyard has been nothing more than a waste of water and excuse to use the lawn mower for far too long.

The time has finally come to put our money where our tiller is and get to work!

Just like the pool refill and bar project, this backyard story is probably best told in photos. Things are moving pretty quickly around here so by the end of this weekend we should have even more done out back. I’ll be sure to post another update when we get the rest of the materials installed.

You’ll see in the photos that there’s two patches of lawn, those will stay, and a whole bunch of dirt. Within the dirt areas around the outside, Matt wants to plant some small ground plants, some trees (palm and citrus) and then fill with a pea-stone sized, sand-toned gravel.

That same gravel will fill the outside edges of the inner rectangle of dirt, and set up inside that we’re building a concrete paver patio and fire pit.

Before getting started. Though, to be fair,
we already did a bit of retaining wall
and brick removal in the far back right corner
in order to have the block wall painted.

Not sure how this part of the process became my job.
A couple blisters and aching biceps later and
about half of the brick is gone. Most of it needed prying
out from under lawn, hence the 2 foot crowbar.

First pass with the tiller, a brand new tool for Matt.
He loves when I take pictures of him mid project!

Second pass (maybe more?) and lawn is finally
disappearing into soil. I really shouldn't
complain about my aching biceps after pulling,
like, 300 bricks. My husband is going to be jacked.

Oh yeah, did I mention that, because of the state
of the crabgrass type lawn, Matt had to rake out
after every pass and sometimes in between? Yeah.

Two days tiller rental and she's ready for digging!

Seriously, he totally crushed this job. There's a bit more to do to
even it out but we'll be out there digging, tamping, laying weed block,
raking out gravel, and building a fire pit in no time!
Please pass the marshmallows...

And, yes, before you ask, I do plan to help out with some of this (mostly the paver/pit areas because I’m a boss at that part). It’s far too hot out there already for Matt to try to do all of this on his own.

But, solar rings are already floating in the fresh, clean pool. So, you can bet your ass I’ll end my workday with a fruity drink and a swim!

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In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

What is Your Favorite Book?

A question I’ve asked, and been asked, over and over again in my life.

Is it bad that my gut reaction these days is to respond:

“Either my Shaw McLeary Mystery books, starting of course with Reckless Abandon or my most recently released California Dreamin’ book, Makeup Your Mind.”

I guess that’s just the shameless self-promoting writer in me talking though, right?

Because, if I really think about what makes a book a favorite book, the criteria might actually preclude my own. (Well, okay, not all of my own but definitely a few.)

For me to call it a favorite, I want a book that stays with me. For years after I read it. I don’t necessarily want to remember every minute detail of the plot, dialogue, story, but I definitely need to remember the way a book made me feel.

And I don’t care if I feel scared, sad, happy, or any other of the numerous emotions I align to while lost in a fantasy world. I just need that feeling to show up.

Books, and I’m talking fiction here, are written to make you feel. At least, I think they should be written for that reason.

You should be uncomfortable. Afraid to sleep at night. Turned on. Wiping away tears. Laughing and nodding while saying out loud “girl, I’ve so been there!”

Because you’re supposed to become one with the characters. You’re supposed to be inside that fantasy world for all intents and purposes.

Otherwise, what’s the point of reading?

To me, I love books that play in my head like a movie, whether that book has been made into a visual representation or not.

For example, when I heard that Lord of the Rings was being made I immediately went out and bought the book so I could read it first. Especially with an epic novel like that, I want to see the characters, scenes, settings in my imagination before I see what someone else sees (like Peter Jackson).

And I was glad I did because, just like every other book-turned-movie, there was so much more to discover in the crafted words than on the screen. And that’s saying a lot because those are some of my favorite movies of all time.

But, I’ve been thinking a lot about what my favorite books are, because a writing colleague recently posted a quote from one of my childhood favorites, The Velveteen Rabbit.

This isn’t my original copy. The truth is, I was really sad when I realized I think my original copy is gone forever. Lost in one of my many moves or prior learning experiences.

That makes me sad because I read the hell out of this book until I was well into high school. Ask me if I give a shit that’s it’s allegedly written for kids.

Hint: I don’t.

So I got on Amazon and ordered up another copy. I wanted to see for myself if the feeling I carried around for this book remained the same when re-reading as an adult.

Truth? I think I might have enjoyed it even more in my middle age.

I hate to use the word “classic” because I think that puts a certain connotation in people’s minds about the literary hoity-toity-ness and/or age of a book. But, that’s exactly what The Velveteen Rabbit is, a classic piece of literature.

As a kid I struggled with acceptance. With being bullied. With a general sense of being different than everyone else. Because I was. And back then that was considered a bad thing. Kids didn’t know how to own their shit like they do in these times***.

In the 80’s it wasn’t cool to wear hand-me-downs. It wasn’t cool to be poor in my hometown, because poor meant you couldn’t afford the latest and greatest fashions, music, outer symbols of being cool. And everyone was doing it. Everyone was so much cooler than me.

So I read, and re-read, books like The Velveteen Rabbit because it was a book about owning your shit.

Who cares if you’re perfect? Perfection is grossly overrated and, like we discover in the pages of Margery Williams' book, it is only after we’ve been essentially ridden hard and put away wet that we discover the true beauty of who we are on the inside.

Because outsides are just glamour.

What really matters is our soul, spirit, how we treat other people, how we treat ourselves. And even though none of us asked to be here, we all have a reason to be walking this earth. Every single one of us has value, a purpose.

The rabbit fulfilled his purpose and ended up even more alive in the end.

Talk about a book that, still to this day, makes me feel!

What’s your favorite, or some of your favorite books, and why do you love them?

***I totally understand that bullying and the like is still a huge issue today and maybe even more so because of the web and social media. I do not mean to belittle what happens in the circles of today’s youth by trying to say things were worse when I was younger. What I mean is that, in my day, we didn’t have an outlet to find other people who felt different and connect to that sense of community (in an anonymous way) like kids have available today. The web is a place of destruction and community. As a kid incessantly picked on for most of my childhood I would have loved to have the resources available to me that kids have these days. If you are being bullied or are otherwise feeling helpless, hopeless, please reach out to trained professionals that can help you remember how fucking amazing you are. A good place to start: StopBullying.gov with links to the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

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In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.