Category: Uncategorized

  • Writer Wednesday – A Blogger Challenge from A to Z


    On her own ever-interesting blog, A. Catherine Noon recently posted information regarding an April blog challenge.  Throughout the month, participants are to post on every day except Sunday with topics following the alphabet A to Z.
    I like it!  What an interesting way to stoke the imagination.
    Thank you, Ms. Noon, for passing along word of this.  I couldn’t resist copying you by sharing here.
    So far, it has been fun just compiling a list of subjects.  My thesaurus came in handy, though some inspirations are decidedly more personal.  At any rate, I need to consider seven more.
    Then they need to be written, of course.  Guess I’d better get busy.  I hope to create some fun reads.
    You can find A. Catherine Noon’s original post here:

    A to Z Challenge: Do You Haz It?

    I plan to post both on my Darla M. Sands family friendly blog and the sometimes X-rated Sand Castles, depending on the subject matter.  I hope you’ll check us out!

    –

  • Keep the Drama on the Page

    Having been introduced to Julia Cameron’s “Artist’s Way” creative workshops a few years ago, I continue appreciating the maxim advising students “keep the drama on the page”.  Or the stage, or canvas, or whatever your favorite artistic medium.

    Of course that is not always easy.  Personally, as I slid a meatloaf into the oven several minutes ago I could not help recalling the nuisances inflicting my household in 2014.  It started with the early January meatloaf I cooked.  The oven element caught fire during the last five minutes of cook time.  Fortunately dinner was delicious but the next day my vacuum sweeper failed, its slipped belt actually burning through the plastic outer cover.  Neither could be fixed, and even replacement proved trickier than reason dictates.

    Add to that the veterinarian telling me my sweet, overweight cat was on the fast track to diabetes and a Saturday night spent racing a human to the emergency room.  Thank heaven everyone is on a healthier road now.  However, these surmountable but sometimes expensive and definitely stressful inconveniences have been compounded by a friend’s emotionally draining phone calls.  Again, I must count my blessings because the friend is not what Ms. Cameron would call a “crazymaker”.  Also, i can happily report that she is in a better place as of this very afternoon.

    Opening Julia Cameron’s prescribed morning page “brain dump” with a list of five blessings the last few months, I make regular note of positives.  I could live in a war torn country with no electricity or flush toilets, after all.  And I have the luxury of art.  Every day, small creative endeavors boost my spirits.  Alongside Julia Cameron’s user friendly tools and gentle wisdom, I have dear friends encouraging me to play.  A book of mandalas in an adult coloring book, wild bird feeding, a craft package suitable for eight-year-olds, and even enjoying my Christmas tree beyond January first have elevated my spirit beyond everyday doldrums.

    What activities brighten your day? Can you maybe take a few minutes to pamper yourself with fun? I sincerely hope you can sprinkle a little innocent pleasure into a what I imagine is a very busy modern schedule.

    –

  • A Flash Fiction for Your Tuesday, by Darla

    The Revival

    “It’s a little inappropriate for you to be acting cute, isn’t it?”
    Stella jolted.  “What?!”
    Drew nodded toward the umbrella on the passenger seat.  Knuckles white on the steering wheel, his narrowing eyes froze her from the rearview mirror.
    “You think it’s cuteto run around in the rain?”
    “Only my bangs got wet.  See?  Hood.”
    “You need to take better care as a future mother,” he demanded, not laughing.  “Seatbelt.”
    Grateful to break eye contact, Stella complied.  She didn’t understand why he made her ride in the back tonight.  She wasn’t pregnant yet.
    And I don’t want to be pregnant now.  We agreed to wait.
    She thought of his new church.  Too busy with her job, Stella had never attended.  That was changing tonight.  Up to this point, she had only seen a few congregants visiting Drew when she came home late from work.  Only one couple stayed for introductions.
    The woman, Marie, acted almost manic about her upcoming childbirth.  Marie’s husband, eyes traversing Stella’s trim torso with tight lipped discernment, guided Marie past and out the door.  He ignored Stella’s farewell.
    Wanting to ask what the men discussed, Stella joked about the couple.  Her remark about a “Stepford wife” earned Drew’s glower.
    That night he convinced Stella to make love despite her fatigue and consternation.  Stella would not have called it truly lovemaking.  The pattern persisted, intimacy evolving into cold coupling when she acquiesced.
    This night, watching street lights flash across clasped hands, Stella tried to remember when Drew first started acting odd.  His finding a church had not been surprising.  The newlyweds fresh out of college joked about his search for spiritual enlightenment.  But he’d respected Stella’s interest in establishing an IT consulting career.
    She planned to work from home after establishing clientele.  First, they needed a home.  Their apartment’s small second bedroom barely contained her desk and files.  And her ambition required laying groundwork, solidifying big business contacts which sometimes required late night schmoozing.
    Parenthood will have to wait.
    The car stopped at a red light.  She glanced up.  Drew’s stare caused her to look toward the window.
    “You really like this church,” she remarked with false levity toward her pale reflection.  “Will Marie and her husband…?”
    “Robert.”
    She closed her eyes.  “Yes.  Robert.  Will they be there?”
    “Of course.  They wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
    “What?”
    “The Wednesday revival.”
    “Oh.  Is that what this is?”
    “That’s what I told you,” Drew rumbled.
    Stella’s eyebrows shot up, her mouth opening.  Before any snide comment emerged about how he’d told her nothing until now, she rolled her lips between her teeth and gently bit down.  Disagreement these days only deepened the chill wafting from her once-lighthearted spouse.
    The car stopped and Stella made sure Drew had it in park so as not to receive further rebuke before unbuckling her safety belt.  Nothing happened when she pulled the door handle.
    “Drew, do you have the child locks on the doors?”
    “Safety first, Stella,” Drew remarked, turned away as he exited the driver side, “We wouldn’t want you falling out of a moving vehicle and hurting yourself.”
    His door slammed shut and Stella’s throat constricted.  Waiting for Drew to come around and open her door, she attempted to stretch her legs in the cramped space.  As crazy as it all seemed, running seemed like an excellent idea.
    But Drew didn’t come around the car.  He held a hand out behind his back, not even offering her a glance as his palm indicated she should wait.
    What the heck?
    Several young men opened the door of the weatherworn building as Drew approached.  Wearing wide grins, several patted him on the back.  Stella could make out nothing beyond the crowded doorway.  Then a trio stepped out into the New York City rain alongside Drew.  The rest retreated, and Stella thought she heard applause before the door closed.
    Droplets sparkled in the hair of all four men, stained glass windows casting a glow in primary colors.  Stella noticed with absurd clarity how one held a closed umbrella.
    How chivalrous.
    Swallowing a snort, she yelped when Drew opened the door and two strangers blocked her escape.  One reached for her arm.  Robert and Drew stood silent.  Stella scrambled away, turning, only to back herself against the other locked door.  She rattled the handle, her efforts impotent.
    The word “impotent” actually popping into her panicked mind, Stella let out a sound indistinguishable between a laugh and a yelp.  The leering male leaning in appeared anything but that.  She tried to kick his groin.  He only got a vice grip on her advancing right ankle.
    God, let him be left-handed, Stella begged, her fear making the absurd wish seem logical.
    Crying out to Drew, Stella felt something snap in her right hip when the assailant yanked.  Suffering only a few minor forearm impacts, he grunted and stilled her flailing leg.  Gaze finding her husband, she saw only excitement in his feverish eyes and bared teeth.  Her grip on the door handle gave way as her lower body dropped and the attempt hyper-extended her left shoulder.
    At least I’m right handed, she thought.  I can still punch him where it hurts.
    Then Stella landed on the pavement.  The impact caused an explosion of stars before her vision and forced the air from her lungs, preventing her scream.  Drew stepped aside for an old woman.  She bent bearing a handkerchief, an acrid smell assaulting Stella’s nostrils even as she noticed the Bible in the other gnarled hand.
    “Don’t cry,” a woman soothed through spinning darkness.
    “Marie,” Stella croaked, hip and shoulder throbbing above overall achiness.  “Help.”
    “You’re fine, Sister Stella.  Stay still.  The drugs will wear off soon.”
    Stella tried to sit but the world twisted.  Bile rose in her throat.
    “Mother Montgomery didn’t want you hurting yourself or any potential fathers.”
    Stella heaved until emptied.  She shuddered at that consideration.
    Am I empty?
    “It’s a blessed calling.”
    “Calling?”
    “We’re here to revive the church.”
    –

  • Writer Wednesday – Finding Balance


    I just finished reading an interview featuring a very gifted artist.  Amongst his other comments, he underlined the importance of mental and physical balance.  One colleague, upon seeing the man’s most private project, asked how he could possibly be sane and produce such work.
    The answer?  Martial arts.  In this artist’s case, that translated to thirty years practicing Kung Fu and several also instructing.  His peer replied in the manner of “Ah!  Of course.”  They both understood that physical discipline grounded him to the real world.
    While the most remedial martial arts routine would probably put me in agony the next day, walking is an activity most of us can quite easily undertake.  The key lies in making time.
    On a scale I find achievable, Julia Cameron’s “Walking in This World” teachings promote weekly walks.  She advocates thirty minutes or more, and doing it more than once if we feel so motivated.  I find the activity lets me enjoy my surroundings and/or muse over blessings.  When I suffer impotent anger, it helps clear away obsession over little injustices.
    For nearly a month, I’ve reincorporated regular workouts on my ski machine alongside walking.  Feeling a bit more fit, I want to keep the momentum going.  I have never obtained the enviable endorphin high such as I’ve heard marathon runners extol, but my small accomplishments give me a definite mental boost.
    What type of exercise are you getting or might consider undertaking?  I hope you can make the effort and reap the rewards.  Just be safe if you’re walking an icy path or attempting something physically advanced.  Equally important, enjoy yourself.
    –

  • A Haiku for the Day

    A Birder’s Joy
    Birds irrupt, hungry
    They head to more southern climes
    Watchers take delight
    –

  • Twittering Our Time Away


    It’s about that time of year again.  And I’m not referring to Christmas.  My annual subscriptions need renewed for the British comic weekly “2000 AD” and the monthly “Judge Dredd Megazine”.
    Both have provided enjoyment for many years, though the exchange rate against the United States dollar did interrupt my reading a few years back.  I’m glad to have these futuristic, often dystopian tales back in my life, especially when we got the joy of seeing talented actor Karl Urban bring Ol’ Stoney Face to the big screen.  Dredd’s U.S. popularity is soaring, too.  Hurray!
    Besides the graphic stories, features I appreciate in the “Megazine” are artists’ interviews.  They provide interesting insight.  The last issue was no exception.  One particular thing the illustrator mentioned stood out to me, too, prompting this essay.
    During this so-called interrogation titled “The Anarch-Tist”, artist Warwick Cadwell lauds the internet for allowing him to connect with fans as well as other artists.  The man even credits others’ blogs with aiding his career.
    But he also warns us.  In his own words, “If you’re not careful, you can spend all your time on Twitter talking about what pen you should be using rather than getting on with any actual drawing!”
    These are words we should all take to heart.  Whatever our preferred medium, we cannot produce art if we spend all our time discussing it.  And we have all know the infinite number of internet distractions, whether they parade as research or networking or we’re just fattening up Sushi Cat (thanks, Armor Games, for swallowing so many afternoons).
    Having noted Mr. Cadwell’s wisdom, I’d best post this now and get back to my novel.  Cheers!

  • Writer Wednesday – A Genius Viewpoint

    Along with talented friends on an artist’s forum, I am reading Julia Cameron’s book “Walking in This World”.  It follows the same thread as her “Artist’s Way” guide, both aimed at helping people unlock and explore their creative potential.  One continuing theme of Ms. Cameron’s program includes inspirational quotes in the books’ margins.  Proceeding through each weekly chapter I tend to find at least one that stands out.
    Week nine gave me the following:
    “There are only two ways to live your life.  One is as though nothing is a miracle.  The other is as though everything is a miracle.” – Albert Einstein
    This rousing, seemingly unscientific outlook led me to look up the genius on Wikipedia.  There I found something nuclear physicist Robert Oppenheimer said at Mr. Einstein’s memorial.  The following words reinforce the lauded theoretical physicist’s opinion.
    “There was always with him a wonderful purity at once childlike and profoundly stubborn.”
    What better way to describe someone who sees miracles?  Of course this is a visionary approach not only toward scientific achievement, but also artistic.  Julia Cameron encourages both a childlike idealism and a strong (one might say stubborn) work ethic.
    Whether theorizing on relativity or plotting a novel, human beings must see beyond the scope of reality.  Yes, our storyline and characterizations may stay within a real world context.  Our minds, however, are creating fiction.  We are inventors.
    I may be no Einstein, but I’m going to go now and invent something the world has never seen.  Happy writing!
    –

  • NaNoWritingCrazyMixedUpNeedMoreCoffeeMo

    Are you doing NaNo?  (National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo.)  This year, I got off to a slow start because a) we’ve moved, b) I started a new job, c) I had a house guest the first weekend, and d) my dad’s in town this week.  Never a dull moment in Noonyland.  But here’s what I’ve learned:

    1. It’s like weight loss – so what, you had cake yesterday?  Right NOW, you’re not eating cake and you can have a salad.
    2. Write.  Write about why you’re not writing, don’t feel like writing, are too tired to write.  Whatever you’re feeling, put it on the page.
    3. All words count during NaNo.
    4. Keep writing.  Your story doesn’t suck; that’s just the inner critic talking.  Keep going.
    5. If your story sucks, keep writing it.  How many people do you know who have completed a novel-length manuscript, even a bad one?  Give yourself permission to be a beginner and just write the damned book.
    6. Write.  And when doubt strikes, write more.
    7. Coffee helps.
    That’s my list of 5 things I learned from NaNo.
    I may have lost my ability to count due to excessive coffee consumption.
    Write on!

  • Writer Wednesday – Elizabeth Brooks, A Tale of Trust

    With us today for Writer Wednesday is Elizabeth Brooks, author, editor, and avid amigurumist.  (Yes, I had to look up that one too.)  I’m pleased to bring you her guest post for today,

    A Tale of Trust
    Elizabeth Brooks

    Winnie waited as patiently as she could, nervousness roiling her belly. She wondered what the new master would be like — harsh or lenient? She hoped the new master wouldn’t be like the old one. Of course a master must have confidence and a certain ruthlessness, but Winnie’s previous master had been arrogant and unyielding, reluctant to listen to her desires, determined to shape her into a mold of his own devising. He had, at the end, bowed to her safeword, but sulkily. (At least he had bowed to it. Winnie had heard plenty of horror stories about those who didn’t.) But she had needs, knew that she needed a firm hand to keep her from stumbling awkwardly, and so here she was, again, waiting for a master. And hoping.

    ~

    Ellie studied the file before her. The sub was new to her, though the file contents bespoke some prior experience. She hoped this would be a good match. She’d had bad matches before, subs who were so wrapped in their own desires that they couldn’t bring themselves to trust Ellie, even briefly. One had been so rigid that he’d thrown the safeword at her with nearly every stroke, resisting her every attempt to define and shape him. She’d been forced to release him, unpolished, and not been surprised when his flawed glory failed to attract much attention. But each new sub was a fresh start.

    ~

    Each club had its own rules, and though Winnie was happy to comply, she had trouble keeping them all straight, and so the session began with some small corrections, matters of style that had barely hurt at all, just a series of red marks that disappeared quickly and easily. A couple of them had stung, but more from Winnie’s own humiliation than the master’s hand — some rules were near-universal, and she knew better! Then, both of them warmed, the master began with the larger corrections, and those had been more difficult. Winnie had hesitated several times, tasting the safeword on the tip of her tongue, but the master had been patient, gently insisting, “Try it and see.” And more often than not, Winnie had tried, and found that she appreciated the subtle grace that the master had drawn out of her… and the heat. Oh, the heat! The master’s hand had marked her and cut her and then built her up and smoothed her, the burn of those corrective strokes serving only to build Winnie effortlessly to her climax, and then gentling the shudders of her denouement.

    ~

    Ellie drew a slow, satisfied breath. The sub had proven very responsive indeed, bowing to Ellie’s commands, letting Ellie smooth the roughness and close the gaps. Ellie had demanded perfection, and had warmed inwardly at the sub’s earnest efforts. Yet the sub had let strength shine, too, forbidden Ellie to damage that vital core when she had inadvertently pushed too hard. Ellie loved a sub who would push back, when it was important. It made the trust between them blossom. Too soon, it seemed, the climax had come and gone, and the sub lay before Ellie, marked with red but panting in satisfaction, previously-awkward limbs and curves molded into elegant lines. Ellie blew one last, warm kiss, and released the sub to what she was certain would be a clamor to claim that beauty, polished to a shine by Ellie’s own hand.

    ***

    Of course I’m not the first to compare the writer/editor relationship to that of a submissive and dominant. It’s such a satisfying analogy, and it very well encompasses the rules of play, on both sides — the best relationships are marked by respect and clear communication on both sides, as well as a strong willingness to trust the other’s judgment. The Dom/editor needs to trust that the safeword/writer’s veto will be used when the sub/writer is unhappy — but that it won’t be used trivially. And the sub/writer needs to trust that the Dom/editor is working to make them (or their manuscript) into something brighter and truer, and not merely shaping it to their own design and ends.

    All in all, it’s a delicate balance of a relationship, and not without its perils.

    Me? Oh, I’m a switch. My safeword is “Oxford comma”.

    ***

    About Elizabeth

    Masquerading by day as an uptight corporate cog, Elizabeth spends her nights concocting gleefully smutty stories. She writes erotic romances for a wide span of worlds, genres, and orientations, and is also a senior editor for Torquere Press. When she’s not writing or editing, she loves a wide range of generally nerdy hobbies, including reading, photography, tabletop games, geeky yarncraft, and silly smartphone games. You can find her online at http://EveryWorldNeedsLove.blogspot.com or on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/EveryWorldNeedsLove.

    Elizabeth’s latest release is Foxfur, available from Torquere Press (www.torquerebooks.com) on November 13:

    Pleasure-slave Cheng takes no particular note of the red-haired woman when she purchases his services. But the morning after her departure, Cheng is taken into custody by the Emperor’s own guards and brought before one of the rare and terrifying Chained Mages. Already frightened and confused, things go from bad to worse for Cheng when the mage reveals the demonic nature of the red-haired woman. Now not only Cheng’s life, but the lives of everyone around him, depend on their finding the fox-demon as soon as possible.

    As a Chained Mage, Jin is at best feared, and at worst, despised. But he can’t allow his personal feelings to interfere with his mission, not even when his admiration for the slave deepens. In fact, Jin’s love may result in a disaster. The fox-demon has placed a spell in Cheng, a spell designed to turn his sexual energy to a murderous ends, endangering himself and everyone around him. And worst of all, they’re not the only hunters on the fox-demon’s trail!

  • NaNoWriMo Inspiration

    Today I’m striving on this fifth day of the National Novel Writing Month to create a word count worthy of the challenge – 50 thousand words in thirty days.  I’m grateful gracious A. Catherine Noon introduced me to the concept and encouraged me to throw down the gauntlet in 2011.  November has never been boring since.

    During this, my third year, I find NaNoWriMo website pep talks very moving as well as motivating.  That gifted, successful folks take time to bolster upcoming newbies warms my heart.  Today’s inspiring words by Catherynne M. Valente, author of twenty poetry and fiction books, are an excellent case in point.

    Here is my favorite line:

    To show up to play, puff out your chest like a damn proud toucan, and get s**t done.

    I can’t argue with that logic.  Now I need to post this tidbit and go follow her advice.  Happy writing!

    –