Posts Tagged ‘write on edge’
Thursday, June 28th, 2012
Oh! Jeez! After my last post, I don’t mean to scare you.
I don’t mean the literal The End. The Big Sleep. The Dead.
I’m talking about the end of my manuscript, the one I’ve been working on non-stop for the past eight months. The reason why I no longer post five days a week or, unfortunately, get to visit as many of your blogs as I would like to, at least not as much as I’d like to.
To find out what’s been going on, head over to my other site, Write on Edge. This is a very exciting – and scary! – time for me and as always, I appreciate your support!
Friday, February 17th, 2012
In case you wondered what I’ve been working on for the past four months, here’s a teeny excerpt. This is the last time I wrote about them in this space. Lindsey has just, for the first time, watched Ryan work out at a baseball facility, doing basebally stuff. The post is a response to the Red Writing Hood prompt for today, which was to write a piece inspired by this picture.
Ryan was, as always, hungry, so we decided to have a late lunch. He pulled into a diner with a neon sign that read “EATS” in the window.
We settled into a booth and Ryan ordered a double cheeseburger with extra bacon, a large order of onion rings and a Diet Coke.
“Will that Diet Coke cancel out the 10 thousand calories you’re about to eat?”
“Absolutely,” he smirked. “So I owe you one. I know that wasn’t a lot of fun for you.”
“It was very enlightening.”
“Yeah? How so?” He took a huge bite of his burger.
“Well, I was going to say you’re pretty good eye candy, but with all that stuff on your face, it’s kinda killed that.”
He wiped the ketchup and mustard from his cheeks and chin with his napkin and grinned. “I have a big appetite,” he said, leering at me.
“Nice. Can you not be a pig for two seconds? Anyway, I could tell how much you loved being out there. That was cool to watch, to see that side of you.”
I picked at my salad while Ryan devoured his lunch. I used to wonder where he put all of it, but not after seeing how hard he worked out. I reached over and selected an onion ring, which I drenched in ketchup and ranch before taking a bite.
We were quiet as we finished eating. I put my napkin on my plate and took a last sip of my water.
“I can’t believe you quit,” I said.
“Quit what?” He leaned back against the booth.
His eyes narrowed. “I got hurt.”
“Oh, I know. I know you got hurt. It’s just, I see how much you love it, how much a part of you it is. It must’ve been like cutting off an arm.”
“Something like that.”
“The thing is…the thing is, I get it now. How sad you were when we met, even though I didn’t realize it, because I was all wrapped up in my own stuff. So I wanted to apologize to you because I probably wasn’t there for you when you needed me.”
Ryan looked at me a moment, then threw some bills on the table. “Let’s go.”
Wednesday, October 26th, 2011
Today I am over at my other home, Write on Edge, to talk about five things I learned at BlogHer Writers Conference. If you are interested in what it’s all about, definitely check it out.
I have been spinning my wheels a bit, and this conference really inspired me to rework my priorities. Next month I will, for the second year in a row, participate in NaNoWriMo, otherwise known as National Novel Writing Month. Last year I wrote the Brock and Skye story, which still sits in draft in my hard drive somewhere, waiting for me to completely rewrite it.
This year I will work on a different story, the one about the widow and the bartender. I will no longer be posting pieces from that. The only ones I have are the ones you’ve all seen. Which really isn’t much, but thanks to your enthusiastic feedback, I’m going to see what happens to them.
I want to spend more time on my fiction and less doing other stuff, like hanging out on twitter and Facebook and Skype. And yes, I won’t be posting as often here, either. I haven’t worked out a schedule yet (because that’s how I roll) but I’ll still be here a few times a week. I would miss you all too much.
Thanks in advance for your support and patience!
Friday, October 14th, 2011
“Wow, that looks like it was from something pretty nasty,” I said.
“Torn ACL, torn meniscus, torn everything.”
“Yeouch. How’d you do that?”
“Baseball. My spikes got caught sliding into home.”
“No. I used to play in the minors.”
Ryan abruptly stood up.
“Listen, I think you should stay here tonight. On the couch. It pulls out. I promise I’ll lock myself in my room.”
He lifted the ice bag off my ankle and we both saw how purple and swollen it was. I needed to use the restroom and he helped me in, then back to the couch, which he’d made up. When he went into his room I took off my shirt and bra and slipped on the soft, faded Red Sox tee he’d brought, which came down mid-thigh. I shimmied my skinny jeans down and off my left leg, but my right ankle was so big I couldn’t get them over it. They were now inside out with my ankle stuck in them.
I considered pulling them back on but it seemed beyond me.
“Ryan?” I called. “Ryan!”
He opened his door and stood, framed, in nothing but jeans unfastened at the waist.
“Can you help me?” I raised my right leg so he could see the issue.
He walked over and knelt down, gently working on the jeans. I sucked in my breath from the pain as he pulled them over the ankle, freeing it. He leaned back on his heels, which is when I saw the ink on his chest, right above his heart. I impulsively reached out and traced the seams of the baseball tattoo.
“I guess baseball means a lot to you,” I said.
He grabbed my hand and held it against his warm skin. I felt his heartbeat quicken as he gazed at me.
Friday, October 7th, 2011
I reclined on the brown leather couch. Ryan put a fat beige chenille throw pillow under my foot and walked into the kitchen, flipping on more lights as he went. I heard the crunching of the ice dispenser as I looked around his living room.
I had never seen a TV that big. It took up half the space on the cream-colored wall, with just enough room for a built-in cabinet which I assumed held all sorts of electronic equipment. And probably an XBox or PS3. Or both.
Ryan came back in with a clear bag of ice. He patted the bag flat, then put his mouth to the opening and breathed in the air, which I found strangely intimate. He twisted the top and tied it in a knot. He then put a towel on my ankle before setting the bag gently upon it.
“You’re a professional.”
“Too much practice at it,” he said, pulling over a soft green arm chair to sit next to me.
“You date lots of klutzy women?”
He laughed. “Nah.” He pulled up the bottom of his jeans to just below the knee, where I could see the beginning of a shiny white scar.
This piece is a work of fiction, inspired by the prompt of writing about setting from Write on Edge. It is the continuation of last week’s piece, where Cam falls down the stairs.