Getting in On All this WoRdLess Wednesdays!



Found this picture on the web somewhere.  I am sorry, but I don’t know who took this amazing photo, but I have kept it on my computer because it was interesting to me.  I would love to hear what you think of when you look at this.


He Stood in the Dark Watching her.

He stood up from the chair. The lights were off and so it was dark, difficult to navigate the room. The kitchen light was on. He saw her. His wife chopping something in the kitchen and smiling. She is always happy and busy. So different from me. But she doesn’t know that. She knows nothing about me, what I really am like. I doubt she’d have married me if she knew. I stand there, staring at her from in the darkness. I think about coming in but I don’t want to disturb her. I drift into the bedroom, and fall into dreams. Dreams keep you alive. He had read an article about how men died in horrendous ways from lack of sleep in a war experiment once. Sleep to him was a luxary, and he wanted to stay up just because he could. How many ways do we choose what’s comfortable instead of face something? But he fell asleep before he could work out the thought.

He woke in the morning to his wife laying next to him, lying peacefully by his side. He wanted to reach out and grab her, press his mouth into her soft lips, stroke her warm hip as just the warm up. He moved his hand towards her, wondering himself if he would. But then he hand grazed her back and he tenderly folded his arm over her. A smile curled on her face as she nuzzled into his arm. She let out a large yawn. And turned over and gave him a peck on the lips. “How are you sweetie?” she asked. You look so beautiful he thought. The light coming through thin white curtains made her look warm like she had soaked in warm pools of sunshine all night and came back just to share it with him.

“I’m good. I love you.” he whispered. He returned her kiss with another one. She moved in the kiss, and waited for more. But he got up abruptly and started pulling pants on his legs. “Okay I’m heading to work. I’ll see you tonight, k love.”

“Alright, see you then.” she said, her voice let down.

2am, tired, and ranting; Do you really want to read?


        I have decided to break my writer’s block I need to write a free write. I know it will be bad. Free writes are usually bad. Also it’s 2 am and I am drunk with sleepiness. How good could someone write at 2am? That is a time for sleeping and nothing else. I feel like I could go to my bedroom and fall onto my bed and just be out in no time. But as tired as I am, I am rebelling against sleep simply because the more tired I am the more trouble the simple things become. So I don’t want to get out of my chair and walk to the bed. It would simply be easier to stay up later. I have a similar problem when I am overly hungry. I get too hungry to go out and look for food and I just stay put. I feel if I was in the wild, my chances of survival compared to other mammals would be way down there. So instead I go on the internet and I waste time. And of course I have the best of intentions to make my time valueable. But tomorrow morning will come and I won’t even remember the inane things I searched for on the internet in these nether hours. 

          I have actually had intentions of writing all day. I have spent a lot of time reading and stayed extra close to my notepad just in case that moment arose where I would be ready to write. I may never leave the house again. I will have to start ordering my groceries over Amazon and have the UPS man carry my boxes to the door.
           Every paragraph I write is a new introduction to sadness because I start to realize more and more that I am writing about nothing. I hate when I do that. I know it is supposed to loosen up the mind to free write, but I feel like there is a lot of garbage that get’s loosened up with it. Anyway after days of not being able to write my scenes I have been so expectant on writing I finally decided it is because my mind simply must have a freewrite before it will do anything else. So here I am.
          And of course I will subject my readers to the terrible dripping pile of slush that I happen to come up with. I know, what a great website host I am. Always to so carefully work on and submit the very best for my readers. Never hosing down their boxes with the useless scraps that I can’t a purpose for at the end of the day.
Another thing I dislike in freewriting, instead of writing one coherent post about one thing, I will probably wind up writing twenty different irrelevant things and squeeze them into the same page. But that’s okay because I separate my ideas with paragraphs. Paragraphs: the separator of anything.



Doubts about being a Writer

Insecurity is something I am well acquainted with. But I know that negative thoughts or doubts are something that can be controlled by looking at both sides evenly.
The one thing I tell myself that makes me feel better about this though, is that I don’t have to work way out of my comfort every day. As long as I am pushing myself, even just a little, that the effort will add up.
Sometimes I think that because writing is hard for me that this means I am not really a writer. That people who are writers and write books have an easy time, and that the words flow out of their minds and on pages as naturally as walking. But that goes both ways. Sometimes when I need to feel better about how I haven’t done as much as I want I remind myself that it is difficult for everyone and not just me.
Sometimes I wonder, am I good enough to be a writer? I can’t really answer that question. I just push forward and remind myself that I make my own reality.


Building a Killer Email List

Also I very rarely reblog as I am not sure what the etiquette on that is, but I think this is an article that will be helpful to many. So I am reblogging.

David Gaughran

wanted-alt71-200x300There is a lot of upheaval in publishing today and I think that’s likely to increase rather than decrease. The best insurance policy any writer can have against the future is a targeted mailing list.

I’ve written before about how the author with the biggest mailing list wins, and I’ve invited Nick Stephenson along today because he’s got some great ideas on how to boost your list.

The cool thing about his approach is that it’s something anyone can do. And, as you will see, it really, really works. Here’s Nick with more:

Building a Killer Email List

As an author, I try to read as much as possible. I tend to get excited over 8 or 9 different authors across a few different genres, and I always buy their new releases as soon as I hear about them. Whenever I find out there’s a new book on the shelves, I go…

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Fun with Camping.


Two girls shared a cabin, well three counting Amy who was supposed to be in the next cabin over. One of the girls, named Michelle, had perfect straight brown hair that shimmered with vitality, and she wore a thin layer of mascara, making her eyes look bold. Being the morning and she had just woken up, she wore an over large sweatshirt with a sports team name on it in black print and pink pajama bottoms.              Meanwhile she sat criss-cross as she giggled with her friend Amy while flipping through the pages of a young teen magazine. She had a natural smile and she seemed to lack nothing in self confidence.
Another girl in the cabin, Lisa, was shy and kept to herself. She didn’t look at the other girls or talk to them. She kept her head down in the cabin and minded her own business. And when Michelle reached out to Lisa with a hi, Lisa recoiled like she was about to be bit by a venomous snake.
Michelle saw the weakness in poor Lisa’s eyes and thought that camp suddenly wouldn’t be the boring place she expected. She had begged her parents not to sign her up for camp for the third year in a row. It had been more of a vacation for her parents, getting the kids out of the house, rather then something Michelle particularly liked.
Lisa dressed in the morning, pulling her socks up to her calves and zipping her flat blue skirt that reached the knee.
Michelle was watching her from the top bunk and giggling like a hyena.
Lisa started to power walk toward the cabin door. “Why are you going away? You don’t want to show me your stunning attire?” said Michelle.
Lisa opened the door and ran into the woods. She’d turn and look behind her every 20 feet to make sure she wasn’t being followed. Then when she was out of breath she stopped behind a tree. But Michelle did follow her. She had been stealthily hiding behind trees and staying far enough back so she wouldn’t be heard.
Lisa was carving letters into the dirt and then scraping her hand over it and starting again. Then she looked up and saw something flying toward her. She screamed. Michelle tackled her and pinned her to the ground. Lisa lay there her eyebrows curved up, her eyes popped open wide, and her lower lip hanging open, heaving through her nose and her chest visibly rising and falling.
“Why did you run away? You don’t want to talk to me? I just want to be your friend.”
Lisa shook her head back and forth without saying anything.  “Well you know that is just not nice. Because you know when another girl wants to be friends with you, ignoring them is just as bad as bullying.   Did you know that?” Lisa shook her head no slightly. “Well I don’t take kindly to bullies. I think the world would be better without them. Don’t you?  So I am making it my personal mission to stamp out bullies. And you’re gonna help right?” Lisa nodded her head yes.
“Good. I think we are gonna be good friends. Come with me, friend.” She hung out her hand and Lisa looking scared slowly put her hand in the girls and Michelle lifted her up.
Later Michelle taught Lisa the fine art of make up as she gave her a make over that made her look somewhere between a clown and a whore and they walked into the commons together hand in hand to say hi to the other kids and ‘make friends.’

Detective Tony Finds Himself a New Job.

The man lay passed out on the floor. Two men in khaki suits and ties stood over the body.
“This is really not what I do.”
“I know I know, you do petty robbery. How can I forget? But wouldn’t you like to do a real homicide? Just think what that would do to your career as a detective?”
“I just don’t know if I’m ready.”
“That’s okay. If you do decide you’re ready you know where to find me. Otherwise I will find someone who can handle this.” Mark begins to stride to the door and open it.
“Wait.” Mark turns. “Okay fine, yes I will do it.” says Anthony.
“That’s great news. I’m glad to hear it, you will enjoy the boost to your career. I will contact my men so they can assist you.”
“But I thought that this was my case?”
“Oh and it is.” Mark squints his eyes with sincerity and gives him a hearty pat on his shoulder. “But you are new, you are just going to be getting a little extra assistance. That’s all. It will still be yours.”
“Okay, sure. I’ll do it. Where do I find them?”
“Fred will call you tonight and take you to dinner. I will be seeing you later. I’m sure you’ll do great.”
“Yeah okay. Bye then.” Mark walks out and the door clicks shut behind him. Anthony looks at the closed door, watching Mark walk out through the window and scratches the back of his head as he watches Mark leave the building.

Anthony grabs his fingerprint case out and starts brushing the area. After that was done he went through the pockets and found the man’s wallet. When he searched the name, found it was a cyber hacker who was due to derve for cyber terrorism for ten years but had not been found up to this point.

He looked up at the clock and realized he was getting hungry. He went to his bag and grabbed his sandwich, but put it back into the baggie, remembering the call he was supposed to be getting. He searched more records on the net, and his phone rang.

“Hello Anthony is that you?”
“Yes. Are you Fred?”
“Yes I am. Want Italian?”
“Sure. That’s fine.”
“Okay I got a place in mind, we’ll meet you at Valentino’s on Fourth and Mission in 20.”
“Okay. Bye.” He packed his things and walked to his tan Honda, and pulled out.

When he got there a large man with a shaved head was seated wearing a navy blue suit waved at him from his booth. He walked up to him.
“Sit down.” He came over and sat across him. Fred’s fat fingers drummed the table as he looked at Anthony. The sound on the table was loud and startled Anthony. He met the gaze sheepishly.
A waitress came up handing out menus. Fred looked at her and handed back the menus, “We’ll both take the special.”
“Oh okay. I’ll be back with your order in a bit. Anything to drink?”
“Scotch for me. What are you having?”
“Just water is fine.” She smiled and walked off. Fred takes a deep breath, his nostrils flaring.
“So what have you found?”
“Well his name is Ziek. He is a Russian hacker who infiltrated government records and was supposed to do time behind bars.”
“Sounds like you did some good work today. Do you who killed him?”
“No not yet. But tomorrow I think I might find something. I’m just getting started.”
“Okay. That’s good. Please keep me informed of anything you find. Understand?” His face came close to Anthony’s so that Fred’s shadow hung over him. The waitress came back with two Alfredos.
“Is that all?” Fred smiles and shakes his head. She snaps her body away and jet walks back to the kitchen. Her hips moving back and forth as she does. Anthony watches, her black pants clinging to her, showing her exact curves. He looks back at Fred who is staring at him impatiently.
“Well?” said Fred.
“Yes I understand.”
“Good. I will be coming by regularly to see how things are going.” After that they ate in silence. Fred tossed some bills on the table and walked out, pulling a cigarette from out of his pocket and sticking it in his lips. He pushed the door open and the door swung out to its hinge and crashed behind him as he walked out the building, lighting the cigarette with a lighter. The bells on the door rattling around.