bluffed

welcome readers & writers! thank you, readers; writing every day wouldn't be half as much fun without you. thanks also to Linda G., Chuck Galle, Kathryn Magendie and J2B for sharing more about yourselves in response to sunday's post. so fun to read more about you all. and thanks to FilmGuy (who wins the award for the shortest story ever posted on write away every day!) and krowles1981 for sharing your responses to yesterday's photo.  

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here, friends, is today's photo prompt, along with my (memoir) reflection on it. i'd love to read whatever tale you have to spin, be it story, poem or creative non-fiction. just click on comments below to send it in. 250(ish) words or less. as you can see below, word count is flexible.

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He called at seven on the dot every night, and we'd talk until eight. I'd sit on the floor in the hall outside the kitchen, twining the thick, springy phone cord around my fingers, marveling at its ability to carry the sound of his voice across the city to my house. We spoke about friends, school, where he might go to college next fall and my family's impending move out of state. Our favorite topic, though, was us. Each night we'd add to our common daydream about a sunlit someday when we could finally be together. Cue mixed tape: Air Supply, Chicago, Styx. The Rose.

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We teased about running away together, but we were both too good to be serious. He was busy being his high school's valedictorian, and I the well behaved preacher's daughter. But still he would ask me how much time it would take me to get ready if ever he rode in on Lancelot's white steed. Wanting it to be clear that I was effortlessly beautiful and a no-fuss, minimal baggage kind of princess, I boasted that I could be ready to go away forever in a mere seven minutes. On the morning of my fifteenth birthday he called my bluff. He'd asked my parents' permission to pick me up and take me out to breakfast before school. My mom woke me up with a whisper, "Kenneth is here. He says you have seven minutes to get ready." 

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Reality crashes in. My room is a mess. No clean laundry, though Mom comes to the rescue with a birthday present: turquoise pants and a neon yellow shirt*, both of which I hate but am too polite to say. I need to wash my hair, but our bathroom only has a tub and no shower. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. takes at least fifteen. I patch myself together as best I can, worrying. Is this it? Will he realize I'm not so very beautiful and that my life, in more ways than one, is a mess? 

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Remarkably, he didn't see it. At least not on that day. On that day the fairytale was still ours. 

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*this was the mid 80's, after all
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come write with me!  

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inverted

welcome readers & writers! hope your monday isn't rainy and that it's not getting you down. so glad you stopped by to read or to write (or both). thank you FilmGuy and Lola Sharp for your kind words regarding the blogging award that was passed on to me over the weekend by fellow blogger Michele Shaw.

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i'm looking forward to reading what you writers have to say about today's photo prompt. 250(ish) words or less - submit your story, poem or creative non-fiction response below by clicking on comments. i love to read your work! here's my fiction spin on the photo: 
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One thing gets me through my work day right now. Don't know what the hell's gonna happen when the inventory changes or some bored friggin' housewife decides she has to have a dozen hour glasses on her friggin' mantle. L.A. sucks. Finished film school in June. I'm a camera man. Came with some friends to try and catch the wave - break into the movie industry. Friggin' nothing is going my way. First day of work at this place my wallet gets stolen outta my locker. One roommate's buggin' out after just six weeks. The other guy and I can't afford the rent. Tried to rent a smaller place but can't get my name on the lease without an ID, which is in the friggin' wallet. Can't get a new ID because of unpaid traffic tickets back in New York. Can't pay the tickets 'til I get my paycheck. Can't cash a paycheck 'til I have an ID. My mom's working on all this from ten states away. It's nice of her, but friggin' humiliating. So every time I walk by these things, which is a lot - because I stock the housewares department - I turn at least one of 'em over. They go for fifteen minutes. I try to keep one running all the time. All day. They remind me that this crap job won't last. I just have-ta stick it out. Even if it takes three, four hundred, even ten thousand turns. One day I'm gonna look around this city and feel at home. One day this friggin' tinsel town is gonna give me a star.
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come write with me!

accepted

welcome readers & writers ~ happy sunday! i opened my inbox last night to find that my new YA writing, mommy-being, animal-loving, super-blogging friend, Michele Shaw has given me an award! it is an honor to accept the versatile blogger award, which bloggers bestow on one another in recognition of a great blog. the support and positive energy in the blogging world have taken me by surprise - what a joy!  thank you, thank you michele :) there is a particular process for passing on the award ...

Rules of The Versatile Blogger award:

1. Thank and link back to the person who gave you the award.
2. Share seven things about yourself.
3. Pass on the award to fifteen deserving bloggers.
4. Contact the bloggers you chose for the award.

So here goes.  Seven things about me:

uno  Fav. books as a child: Little House on the Prairie series, Laura Ingalls Wilder
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dos  Fav. books as a young adult: The Keeping Days series by Norma Johnston

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tres  Now I have a slew of fav. books. All time favorites include Ladder of Years by Anne Tyler, The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver, and In Dark Water by Murmer Blakeslee. 
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quatro  I love to quote movie lines. It runs in my family of origin - whenever we're together it's sometimes a whole conversation made up of movie quotes! My husband is finally starting to learn the language. 
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cinco  Speaking of movies, some all time favorites (and it pains me to choose just three here, but you haven't got all day) include: Love Actually, Tootsie, Once 
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seis  Favorite do-dad: the Jane Austen action figure my boys gave me for Mother's Day last year. I love her. She is my friend. 
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siete  Since I started writing in earnest, ten years ago, my life has been infused with joy and adventure of the fiction and non-fiction variety. Blogging is just another extension of that happiness. Thanks for writing with me!

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I hereby pass this Versatile Blogger Award to:
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1.  It's the World, Dear

2.  Sierra Godfrey  

3.  Acey's World

4.  Sharp Pen/Dull Sword

5.  The Naked Redhead

6.  and other times 

7.  Joy in the Journey

8.  Ordinary Saint

9.  Oh you think so do you???

10. Home is Where the Cat Is

11. The Rambling Thoughts of a Wanna-Be Writer 

12. Attempting Transparency

13. Two Little Monkeys

14. Chuck Galle

15. 10 Minute Writer
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writers, though today's post is a little different from the norm, i'd still love it if you'd come write with me! in the comments section, share seven things about yourself - i'd like to know you better :)  

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also, many thanks to Chuck Galle, Anonymous, FilmGuy, and Tricia J. O'Brien for sending in your tattoo writer audition samples. as soon as i open a tattoo shop, all of you are hired. salary: a cool million. sound good?

inked

welcome readers & writers! it's spoof saturday on write away every day :) time for some light-hearted fun.  click here, here, and here if you'd like to read some past spoof saturday silliness.  

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before we get to spoof saturday, though, let me welcome our new followers (welcome) and thank yesterday's writers - krowles1981, Chuck Galle, and Theresa Milstein - (thank you) for your awesome stories, inspired by Laurie Millar's photo. it was great to write with you!

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this festive building here in austin caught my eye partly because it's so colorful and fun, but also because i'm flirting with the notion of a tattoo for my next birthday (turning a tattoo worthy age). let's imagine that sideshow tattoo has some stellar artists on staff but wants to hire a writer as well, one who will pen words as innovative and colorful as the images they put on folks. let's say you writers are auditioning for the job with two or three of your best tattoo words or phrases. feel free to describe the art part of the tattoo as well if that helps, or you can leave the art to the artists. here's my stab at it:

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1.  old, but not past the expiration date (i imagine these words inked in small circle with my birthday numbers inside. it would look like a grocery store stamp)

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2.  oh bother (an homage to pooh bear, of course)  

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3.  bluebonnet bliss (with a bouquet of flowers for the next miss texas - it might have to go on her bummy, though, b/c i'm pretty sure they're not allowed tattoos) 

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send in your tattoo writer audition piece by clicking on comments below 250(ish) words or less. enjoy!

chisled

welcome readers & writers. it's photog friday again! i love photog fridays because i (and you, if you'd like!) get to be creative with the work of a professional photographer. the photos you see on my blog every other day of the week are taken by me. on fridays my rookie camera gets a break and we all get to contemplate a professional photo. to read stories and see photos from previous photog fridays, click here, here, and here.

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this week's photo is the work of photographer Laurie Millar. to see more of Laurie's work, click here. Laurie, thank you so much for this gorgeous picture! writers, i'd love to read the story, poem or creative non-fiction response that bubbles up in you when you look at this photo prompt; just click on comments below to share it. 250(ish) words or less. here's my spin on Laurie's photo:
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Everyone in town calls it the True Love Tree. Such a gorgeous birch in the center of town square, next to the gazebo. Its twining branches spill over into the gazebo, tear drop leaves whispering a new mossy groove in the spring, singing a deep throaty green in the summer, humming jazzy shades of yellow, orange and red in the autumn... silent and sleepy and knowing in winter. Under that tree countless moms have laid chubby babies on fuzzy blankets for kick n' play time while toddler siblings circle, gallop, and chase a few feet away, dripping ice cream and wiping their hands clean on the grass. On the bench nearby generations of old men thumb through countless pages of daily newspapers. Gaggles of teenagers gather there too, though later, after the last bell and before dinnertime curfews. ("Meet me at the TLT!") And let me tell you, more than one couple has shared a first kiss, held sweaty hands, even gotten engaged under that canopy. Who is T and where is L? No one knows, but the legacy of their love - chisled, rooted, generous and lively - still flourishes.
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come write with me!
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p.s.  thanks to Jessica Lemmon, Brian Potopowitz, FilmGuy, Bess Weatherby, and Anonymous for your awesome "fluffed" stories yesterday. 'twas great day for writing altogether (and all together, too)!

fluffed

welcome writers & readers!  readers, thank you for keeping this blog in business (so to speak).  writers - FilmGuy, Chuck Galle, Christa and Brian - thank you for your awesome posts yesterday!

i'm hoping that today's photo prompt feels wide open enough that you might look at it and see a hundred possibilities for a back story to go with it.  but if not, just one will do :)  submit your story, poem or creative non-fiction by clicking on comments below. 250(ish) words or less.  here's my interpretation: 

Jeeves the butler loathed folding towels. He never minded the washing up or the ironing, and he was a stellar hospital corners guy with bedsheets. But for some reason the towels felt tedious. That's why they were always a little off, kind of wonky when he stacked them in the linen cabinet. No matter. Because Madame never looked in the linen cabinet anyway. She would simply say, "A fresh towel, please, Jeeves," and he would fetch and smile and bow ever so slightly until he was dismissed. This exchange occurred no fewer than ten times a day. Every time she washed her hands, or returned from her stroll around the garden, and wanted to dab the fine beads of perspiration from her face, she would call for him. And whether he was baking or gardening, polishing silver or (shhhh...) mixing himself a martini, he would go to the linen cabinet, pluck a towel off of his listing tower and deliver it. Of course when she was finished, she would hand the barely soiled cloth back to him with quite a formal thank you for a woman who'd known Jeeves for well more than a decade.  Then he would add it to his basket of wash, along with all of the other slightly used towels, and he would wash and dry it. And, yes, by golly, he would fold it.  

come write with me!

stacked

welcome readers & writers! hope you're having a fab tuesday so far. regulars, let me ask ya'll to do me a favor and become an official follower (if you haven't already) by clicking the "follow" icon on the right side of the page. it's an easy/no cost process and it doesn't put you on any email lists or anything. it just helps me in my blog building/agent searching quests :)

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also, if you have friends who like to read or write, share write away every day with them. muuuuuchos gracias. thank you alison and lola sharp for your posts yesterday! and thanks also to ash for a new post on baked :) now on to today's photo: perhaps it inspires a poem, story or creative non-fiction response in you. if so, just share it by clicking on comments below. 250(ish) words or less. here's my spin on it --

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Jack stepped back and surveyed his work. It had been a long time coming, the completion of such a complicated project. The sweat, the overtime, the stale sandwiches and warm drinks. All of it had been worth it. Four solid layers of highway stacked, one atop the other. He smiled. "Awesome," he breathed. "Jack," his mom called, "dinner!" "Okay, mom," he yelled back. Before he left his room, he hollered "Rahhhh!" and knocked it all down. Every single block. "Jackzilla strikes again!" He banged his chest. He'd build more tomorrow. Maybe the super duper quadruple highway stack, or maybe something better.

250(ish) words or less. come write with me!