Telling Tuesdays 03/13/12 - "She'd never been so afraid."

Welcome to Telling Tuesday, a day reminiscent of those in school when I looked forward to seeing what everyone brought for show and tell. This weekly feature was inspired by an article on WriteToDone.com, called "How to Show (Not Tell): A Writing Lesson from John LeCarre."


It is one of the best articles I've seen on the rule all writers know--show, don't tell--because it doesn't just tell us how not to tell, it shows us some of LeCarre's very own examples.

" . . . descriptions can set the scene, convey the inexpressible, and turn the reader into a witness, instead of remaining a mere bystander." -- Mary Jaksch, author of the article

Each week, I'll give a "telling" prompt, and invite you to show us, to make us a witness, not a mere bystander. Feel free to use the prompt, or the photo (if a photo is shown.) Of course, if you have a completely different "telling" prompt, you can "show" us that, too.


As always, I invite you to leave a link to your website or blog with your comments.


THIS WEEK'S PROMPT:


She'd never been so afraid.

     She tiptoed, slowly, slowly, hoping he would not hear her. She'd even murmured a prayer, though she wasn't sure if she'd said it right. And if she said it wrong, would God hear her?
     She was afraid of the dark, but grateful for it, too.
     A leaf crunched--screamed--below her foot.
     He turned toward her.
     Did he see her?
     She froze. All except her heart. It pounded so hard and loud in ears it might have smothered the sound of his footsteps . . . if he wasn't getting closer.
     Closer.
     Should she scream?
     No. He'd hear her. Then find her.
     But, it was her only chance. Surely someone would hear, come to help.
     She opened her mouth, and prayed she could make a sound escape it.

Telling Tuesdays 12/13/11

Telling Tuesday. Reminiscent of those days in school when I looked forward to seeing what everyone brought to show and inspired by an article on WriteToDone.com, called "How to Show (Not Tell): A Writing Lesson from John LeCarre."

It is one of the best articles I've seen on the rule all writers know--show, don't tell--because it doesn't just tell us how not to tell, it shows us some of LeCarre's very own examples.

" . . . descriptions can set the scene, convey the inexpressible, and turn the reader into a witness, instead of remaining a mere bystander." -- Mary Jaksch, author of the article

Each week, I'll give a "telling" prompt, and invite you to show us, to make us a witness, not a mere bystander.

This week's prompt was inspired by a passage in a book I'm reading, Life of Pi. Here's the excerpt:

     Richard Parker has stayed with me. I've never forgotten him. Dare I say I miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares, mostly, but nightmares tinged with love. Such is the strangeness of the human heart. I still cannot understand how he could abandon me so unceremoniously, without any sort of goodbye, without looking back even once. That pain is like an axe that chops at my heart.


So, here's this week's "telling" prompt. What can you "show" us?

She was sad when he left.

Here's an excerpt from a story I wrote several years ago (Voices, Volume I, High Hill Press, 2008) about a couple and their sailboat called "Haiku":

     He pulled away from her driveway with Haiku in-tow, leaving her feeling as empty as her now vacant garage. Sadness hovered like a gray cloud when a realization fixed itself in her heart - a realization as clear as the 800 pound gorilla that stood in the corner, its arms crossed in mock satisfaction.
  
  Their dance was nearing an end. Like the sailboats she'd watched on San Francisco Bay, their souls had moved toward each other, but never touched.
  
  And sailing Haiku wouldn't change anything.
  
      Her bed is empty
      Train whistle cries far away
      She hugs her pillow.


I'm looking forward to reading your "show" part of show and tell!

#FlashFriday #Fictioneers "Who Needs It?"

I have to admit, this week's photo prompt by Madison Woods was a challenge! But, here goes:

Who Needs It?

     Don't know what I said to tick Marylou off. Maybe I pinched her love handles too hard. Maybe it's that time of month. These days, seems like it's "that time" more than it's not.
     Alls I know is, just as I was thinking, "Women!" she started in on me like she could read my mind.
     "Yeah, I'm a woman," she cried. "W-O-M-A-N. And I'm dang tired of doing it all. Tired of bringing home the bacon and frying it up in a pan." Then, she left, slamming the door behind her.
     Heck. I can cook bacon too. And who needs a pan, anyways?


Thanks for jump starting my brain this morning, Madison. Now, I'm hungry. I think I'll go fry myself some bacon. Think I'll use a pan, however.


Feel free to post a link to your blog with your comments!

#FlashFriday #Fictioneers "Leaving Little World"

I especially liked the photo prompt by Madison Woods this week, because it reminded me of a dream I had once. It came at a time when I was so afraid to make a decision, I compared it to jumping from a cliff. In my dream, I finally decided to jump, believing it was my only choice. At first, I fell, but only for a moment. Then, I grew wings. And flew.

The next day, I made the decision, and I've never regretted it.

Leaving Little World

Mama didn’t tell her to stay put this time. How long had she been gone, anyway? And her sister? Her brother?

She was hungry. Alone.

She stared into Big World. Bright sunshine. Big.

All she’d ever known was Little World. Cozy. Warm. But . . .

She was hungry.  Alone.

She stood on the perch, her heart pounding as loud as the clap of thunder from The Storm that almost destroyed Little World in the spring. There was only one thing to do, because . . .

She was hungry. Alone.

She jumped.

Flapping!

Falling!

Flapping!

Until . . . she flew.

Telling Tuesdays 11/29/11

Tuesday was show-and-tell-day at school, and though I remember the excitement of trying to decide what to bring, what I liked best was seeing what everyone else brought to show.

Yesterday, I found a great article on a website called WriteToDone.com, called "How to Show (Not Tell): A Writing Lesson from John LeCarre." It is one of the best articles I've seen on the rule all writers know--show, don't tell--because it doesn't just tell us how not to tell, it shows us some of LeCarre's very own examples.

" . . . descriptions can set the scene, convey the inexpressible, and turn the reader into a witness, instead of remaining a mere bystander." -- Mary Jaksch, author of the article

This inspired me to start a new feature on my blog, Telling Tuesdays. Each week, I'll give a "telling" prompt, and invite you to show us, to make us a witness, not a mere bystander.

This week's prompt:

The coffee was good.

I'll show you mine, if you'll show me yours:

     The scent grew stronger, richer, with every step she took down the stairway. Rubbing her eyes, she shuffled into the kitchen and heard the rhythmic gurgle of percolating coffee.
     She flipped on the light, then stifled a yawn as she stared at the mugs hanging over the counter. Picking one at random, she smiled at her choice. "Happy Boss's Day," it said.
     As she poured, steam rose from the dark brew and she took a deep breath. To her mouth she drew it, closer, closer, blowing to cool it, anticipating.
     Then, a sip.
     Ah. A morning to relax and enjoy a cup of coffee. The first time in years. For now, she didn't care that she'd been fired the day before.

Okay. I'm sitting at my desk now, hands folded in front of me, and I'm almost as excited to see what you'll "show" as I was back in elementary school. Only difference is, Johnny Winklebuns is not sitting behind me, pulling my hair.

Addendum: 11/30/11

I had to add this picture of coffee in my grandmother's rosebud cup, after reading Keli's comment. Thanks for the memories, Keli!

Fall #fridayflash #fridayfictioneers #100words

Once again, Madison Woods has given us a beautiful and challenging photograph for this week's Friday Fictioneers prompt. I love how she exercises our creative muscles. Thanks again, Madison!

     FALL

     Her mind was ablaze with what she’d just seen—another woman in his arms. Slamming the door, she stood outside in icy silence, huge as her emptiness, until she erupted and ran from the house—their house. Leaves crunched in a staccato beat beneath her feet.

     Gray skies. Colorless as life without him. Cold mist stung her face like a slap.

     Running anywhere, nowhere, she fell. Dead leaves swirled, falling, falling, until they came to a final rest beside her.

     Fallen. Life was over.

     Then she saw it. A tiny, pink bud. Struggling, yes. But new life, nonetheless.

#Flash Fiction Friday: Captain Josie and The Whale

Here's my flash fiction for Madison Woods' weekly Flash Fiction Friday. Thanks again, Madison, for a great photo prompt. You should try it, readers. You'll be hooked!

This is an excerpt from my short story, "Captain Josie and the Whale." The short story is available on Smashwords. To purchase, go to my Smashwords page on this blog.

When twilight next comes, watch.  Where the edge of the earth touches the sky, look carefully. There you'll see Captain Josie and her whale, William, swimming together.
As the light of day dims, they dive into the sea.  Though the orange-red glow of their love prevents anyone from looking too closely, if you could look, you’d see Josie hold tight to William as they dip below the horizon, and kiss the earth goodnight.

Automatic Time Machine

If you could have an ATM spit out something other than money, what would it be?

The first thing I thought of when I considered this writing prompt was the conversations I used to have with my children. Though they took place two decades ago, I still remember them well.

“Sorry, we can’t afford it,” I said, when one of my kids asked for something—maybe new jeans, new shoes. Or, maybe they’d asked to go out to dinner instead of staying home to eat tuna casserole again.


Sorrowful whines followed in reply. “Mom, can’t you just write a check?”


“It doesn’t do any good to write a check if there’s no money in the account to cover it,” I replied, umpteen times.


But, my little darlings would not be stifled. “Then how about getting more money out of the ATM?”


I’m not sure exactly when my daughter and son learned that money didn’t grow on trees—that it certainly didn’t magically appear from ATM’s—but eventually they quit asking that question. But until that point, the only thing that powered my patience in repeatedly replying with the same answer was the sheer humor in their innocence.


So, I started daydreaming about this prompt, and it allowed me a bit of that innocence.

What if I could have an ATM spit out anything I want?

I thought long and hard about it, and here is my answer.

Time. But just as an ATM doesn’t spit out single dollar bills, I wouldn’t want it to spit out just any old time. No, I want the “twenty-dollar bill” of time – quality time. The time that comes AFTER the time I waste on the internet, talking on the phone, etc. Unfortunately, like money that is eaten away by expenses that must be paid between paychecks, productive, quality time dribbles away between wasted time.


So why not go to the ATM to get some more? Then, maybe I’d get my book finished. Only problem is, time – especially quality time – like money, is limited and can be easily wasted. Unfortunately, it’s no more possible to “just go to the ATM” for more time than it is for more money.


The innocence was fun while it lasted.

What would YOU like to have from an ATM?