welcome

welcome readers & writers! in this cyber space please find: + a photo writing prompt + a place to post your creative writing response (poem, memoir, short story or the like) to the prompt + a community of readers and fellow writers excited to read your writing + morsels of genuine fiction, poetry & creative non-fiction as the blog is updated. share a response as often as you'd like. everyday discoveries from my life, captured on film, will serve as prompts. this is not a place where we will critique one another's work; however, words of encouragement or praise for writers who share their work are most welcome. writers, share your story, poem or creative non-fiction response to the photo by clicking on comments; word count is flexible. cheers! demery

Thursday, September 30, 2010

illumined



welcome readers & writers. jessica lemmon and filmguy, thank you for your stories about Roo's place. i love to read your work!
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here's my spin on today's photo prompt:


5. 7. 5.
transitory light
this tempest breaks, blossoms heat
bleak midnight scatters


come write with me!  story, poem or creative non-fiction. 250(ish) words or less.  don't stress - just type! click on comments below to share your work.
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thursday's string around the finger: click the stumble upon icon on the right hand side of the page when you like what you read here. thanks!

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

spiffed


welcome readers & writers! a good wednesday to you, mateys. thanks to krowles1981 and chuck galle for your early morning posts on yesterday's photo - i was happy to see them in my inbox. 
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i took this photo on a trip through western texas in july. in case you can't read the small writing under "ROO'S" it says NAILS & TOES. here's my story about Roo's place. i'd love to read yours!
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Roo dabbed some powder on her nose. Still in the parking lot, she was waiting for Lonestar's Already There to end. With a click she shut the compact and tucked it into her purse, humming along. The energy she felt for work now was amazing. She'd been renting a chair in a big salon a few blocks from town square, but the place was the pits. Gossip. Catfights. No one hired to sweep up or wash towels. Most nights Roo was the last to leave. Even the owner would take off early, calling to Roo, "Thanks, hun!" Roo left exhausted, only to do it all again the next day. Until February. 
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On Valentine's Day, her husband Burt took her out to dinner and then, on the way home, pulled into this very lot. She'd made a joke about parking. He'd laughed and leaned in to kiss her, but only once before pulling her out of the car into chilly night air. When they were front and center to the building he'd hollered "Okay!"  His buddy Frank, who'd been waiting to turn on the porch light, flipped the switch. "Happy Valentine's Day, Ruby Marie," he'd whispered in her ear. She'd been in heaven ever since. Long hours and sore feet as an investment in your own place is a real pleasure. 
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She chuckled, wishing again that he hadn't painted it brown. New paint was already stashed in the back room, but she was gonna wait another month or two so as not to hurt his feelings.  No matter. It might be beige on the outside, but inside, from nine to six-thirty Tuesday through Saturday, the place was abuzz with color: Palest Pink, Fire Engine Red, St. Patty's Green, Jack-O-Lantern. Bright smiles, good music, and laughter. The song ended and Roo hopped out of the car. Time to start the day!
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Click on comments below to share your story, poem or creative non-fiction response to the photo.    

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

imbued


welcome readers & writers!
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here's my response to today's prompt, a photo i took yesterday at walnut creek here in austin: 

Yes, Demery, there really is autumn in Austin. Last September, our first in this great big state of Texas, I kept waiting for the leaves to turn.  I'm pretty sure it happened sometime near the middle of December.  This did not go over well with me. It didn't help, of course, that I was grieving the loss of so many beautiful Pennsylvania people, traditions, and, of course, Pennsylvania autumns. Rolling hills and crisp air that carries on it the smell of fireplaces crackling at night and that little nip in the air for Saturday morning soccer games.  Pumpkin picking.  Fresh apple cider.  Weeks on end when even the gentlest breeze could whisper through the trees and send leaves fluttering to the ground like big fluffy, unwieldy snowflakes.   
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It didn't help that Austin was in a record breaking drought when our moving van rolled into town, that we spent our first few months here watching our grass die, our trees wilt and every green plant in the the neighborhood turn brown.  It didn't help that Halloween day dawned too warm for me to wear my long sleeved black jack-o-lantern t-shirt. We did have - oh - a full five minutes of snow. Once. Not long before Christmas. When the leaves were bright yellow, orange and red and only just getting around to contemplating their dramatic little swan dives. Just before Christmas. Right around Hannukah. Pulling out the rake. Did I mention?
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To see a smattering... just a few... gorgeous fallen leaves yesterday was a happy surprise. Maybe this year's weather and lack of drought is the difference. Or maybe my heart is opening to my wonderful not-so-new city and I simply had the eyes to see the first fallen beauties this year. Regardless, it's September for another day or two and Austin's autumn is right on time.
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come write with me?  story, poem, creative non-fiction or simply just your description of how fall is unfolding where you are. click on comments below to share.  i love to read your work!

Monday, September 27, 2010

tasted


welcome readers & writers. thank you so much for stopping in. it's monday on write away every day, and most other places in the western hemisphere too. a new day! a new week!  lettuce, er let us open ourselves to the unexpected blessings this week has in store.
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writers, what's your story, poem or creative non-fiction take on today's photo prompt?  i can't wait to read it. send it in by clicking on comments below. 250(ish) words or less - though we're flexible with word count around here.

here's my spin:

Arthur returned the menu to the trembling hands of his waiter, who said, "May I say, sir, that your choice of wine is a perfect complement to the meal." "Yes, yes." Arthur waved the menu, the compliment and the waiter away with an age-spotted hand. As the meanest critic in New York, he was used to this kind of simpering. He scratched a few notes in his moleskin notebook regarding this restaurant's lack of originality. Though the chef had taken special care creating a stellar new menu, though the owner had invested a full month's profits into all new linens, which were gorgeous, by the way, Arthur could only see letters on a page and fabric covered tables. He'd been in the critique business so long now he was almost incapable of enjoying a meal. And he certainly never started anymore by writing about what he liked. In fact, it had come to pass that Arthur would only order the most expensive, most unique dish on the menu. Even then there was little hope for a positive review. So chefs expecting a visit from Arthur had begun "thinking outside the box" on the off-off chance that Arthur might toss a kind word their direction. Tonight was no exception. 
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It was plated beautifully and sent out at lightning speed (a fact he'd failed to notice, of course). It was set down a bit wonkily by his waiter's wobbly hands (this he did notice, of course). Arthur took a sip of water to cleanse his palate from the sub-par salad course he'd choked down and took a bite of the steaming dish. The whole staff watched from a distance. The waiter, leaning in from a neighboring table, heard Arthur say, "Mmmmm-mmmmm." The customer watching along with the waiter said, "I'll have what he's having." "Are you certain?" asked the waiter. "If it's that good, then yes." "Very well, then," said the waiter, "One grilled shark's tongue smothered in radish puree. Coming right up." "Um," said the customer. "Make that meatloaf. I'll have the meatloaf."           
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come write with me!

Sunday, September 26, 2010

rested

happy sunday, readers & writers!  today is sabbath sunday - time to breathe and catch up. i'll be looking ahead to plan the week's posts and photos. you are very welcome to look back at photos you might have missed reading or writing about. it's never too late to write about a photo, or to go back to a story you wrote and continue the story.  just send it in by clicking on comments below that particular photo. enjoy... and see you tomorrow, yes?
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p.s. i'm sorry to have missed my post for spoof saturday yesterday. the stomach flu has been making its way through our house and yesterday was my turn :( feeling a little better today. spoof saturday will return next weekend.

Friday, September 24, 2010

secluded


readers & writers, it's photog friday! but first let me pause to thank c johnson, brian potopowitz, and ash for your great responses to yesterday's photo.
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i'm so excited to share today's photog friday writing prompt with you because it is the work of my childhood friend jeff gray, who is now a gifted photographer and artist. jeff and his equally talented wife jewels own Gray Photography in denver, colorado. thank you, jeff, for your gorgeous photo!
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ya'll, see more of jeff and jewels' amazing work by clicking here. here's my spin on the photo:
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Kate lets go of Sam's hand and runs down the path to the beach. He watches as she stretches out her arms to the sky in a yoga pose - some kind of sun worship dealie - he can't remember what it's called. She spots something in the distance and calls out to him, throwing a huge grin over he shoulder and admonishing him to hurry up already. He used to love her exuberance, her childlike ability to play and to enjoy every moment of the day. Six years later, though, he hates admitting to himself that it's wearing kind of thin. Lately it feels like they're stuck together on some kind of relationship teeter totter. The happier Kate gets, the lower Sam sinks into despair. Like today, he can't see what's so lovely about the beach. It's gray and cloudy and the sky is going to flipping rain all over their plans for the afternoon.  But there she is acting like a preschooler itching for her teacher's approval. Otherwise why would she be doing sun poses and pointing at what is probably a run of the mill seagull or a dime a dozen parasailer? "Okay, already," he grumbles as his feet crunch to the place where rocky path meets sand.  Yes, I see you.  Aren't you the adorably cute one, he wants to yell at her. Maybe loud enough to blow that bright smile off her face.  Then, in the next breath he remembers that he loves her. He loves her.  So, coming up beside her, he forces his voice to a brittle, "I'm here, already. What's the big deal?"  She squeals and claps her hands, pointing at the sky again. He follows her gaze, gasping when he sees it. He takes her hand and squeezes it. "Never, in a million years..." he whispers.       
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writers, i can't wait to read your stories, poems or creative non-fiction responses to jeff's photo. share them by clicking on comments below. come write with me!

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

penned


writers & readers, welcome! 
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writing friends, i'd love to know what bubbles up inside of you in response to today's photo prompt. creative non-fiction, story or poem: 250(ish) words or less... click on comments below to share. come write with me?


5.7.5.
my lovely cage binds
summer's heat refines, spurns light
freedom conjures sky

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thursday's string around the finger:
remember to share write away every day with a friend  :-)