Category: Uncategorized

  • Flash Friday the Second

    Every Friday, we will post links to a collection of flash pieces written by our contributing authors and guests. They may be related to the same prompt, they may be randomly assembled, they will always be enjoyable.

    This week, we have a collection of stories written in response to this picture prompt:


    Kathleen – WTF!
    Eden – Frost and Ferrets
    Evilynne – Stowaway
    Gwen – Ferreted Away
    A. Catherine Noon – Untitled

    We also have the following stories written in response to other topics/prompts:

    Andi – Elusive

  • Stowaway, by Evilynne

    MaryAnn set her purse down on the kitchen table and shoved the peanut butter sandwich and a bag of Cheetos into it. Her lunch wasn’t nutrition friendly, but it was all MaryAnn was going to get tonight; she was running late and couldn’t afford to be late for work again. She hurried into the bathroom and started putting on her makeup.

    A petite blond pixie came to the doorway. “Mommy, can I hold Whitey? Please! I’ll be real soft with her, promise!”

    “All right Holly, just be sure to lock the cage tight when you’re done. Remember what happened when Fluffy played with our last ferret?”

    “Yes, Fluffy is a mean kitty!” the girl pouted, then turned and left the room.

    MaryAnn brushed out her hair then gathered her purse and book before heading out of the house. She placed her bag down on the passenger seat of the car and had just fastened her seatbelt when Holly came running outside crying.

    “Mom! Whitey’s gone! She’s gone! Fluffy is going to get her and kill her!”

    Damn, MaryAnn thought. She couldn’t face finding another dead pet and burying it in the backyard. She gave a long suffering sigh and got out of the car. “We’ll find Whitey, sweetie. Go get your big brother, Max and we’ll all look for her.”

    And look they did, behind every table, chair and couch, in the dirty laundry and under the beds. They opened cupboards and checked closets; MaryAnn even tried the washing machine and dryer out of desperation. No ferret.

    “Max, I’ve got to go to work,” MaryAnn said checking her watch and frowning. “Lock Fluffy in the bathroom so we know the ferret’s safe and keep looking. She’s got to be here somewhere. I’ll call you from work and check on you, okay?”

    “All right, Mom,” her teenager said. “We’re on it.”

    “Thanks, Hon, I knew I could count on you.” She kissed him quickly before he could duck away; she knew he was too cool for mother’s kisses.

    MaryAnn rushed back to the car and fastened her seat belt. Startled by an unexpected rustling sound next to her, she stared over at the passenger seat and realized that her purse was moving. Cautiously, she reached over and peered inside. What she found made her laugh out loud. Whitey’s small white head popped up and looked around curiously, blinking her eyes against the sunlight after being buried in the darkness of the bag. Her long whiskers were coated with Cheeto crumbs and she held one of the orange treats greedily in her paws.

    MaryAnn reached into her pocket slowly and grabbed her cell phone, careful not to disturb her ‘stowaway’. After taking a few pictures of the Cheeto thief, she dialed her home number and heard Holly pick up. “Baby, it’s Mom. Come out to the car and see who I found,” she laughed.

  • Getting to know you…

    Most of the contributors of the Writer’s Retreat Blog participate in the weekly meme, Thursday Thirteen. Every Thursday we’ll link to the individual sites with each writer’s TT for the week so you can get to know all of us a little better.

    This week we’ve got:

    Kathleen – 13 Games I Like to Play

    A. Catherine Noon – 13 Reasons to Visit Chicago

    Liz – 13 Pets We had when I was Growing Up

    Gwen – Revenge of the Meme Gods

    Eden – Life’s Soundtrack

    Dawn – 13 Things I Spend Too Much Money On

  • The Voices in Your Head

    Voice. It’s the Holy Grail of creative writing. In fact, it’s a rather poor word for something that cannot really be put into words. I say that because there are many different uses of the term voice. There’s the technical – active vs. passive voice, and then there’s the narrative voice/character voice. There’s also the writer’s voice, and another term that is often used interchangeably – tone.

    The voice I am searching for is that one that defies definition. Really, as you’ll see if you read on – I’m talking about voice as a state of mind. Oh, by the way – let me just state for the record now that I am not an expert, or a professor, or even a published author (yet) and this is just my opinion – take it or leave it.

    So, what is this mysterious ‘voice’ thingy?

    I’m as befuddled as anyone. The voice in writing is something that cannot be defined. It cannot be learned. It cannot be taught. You either have it, or you have yet to find it. Sometimes even after you’ve found it, it comes and goes, seemingly at will. My favorite definition (of many) that I’ve run across in my personal quest is this one:

    Voice is the “force that drives a piece of writing forward.”

    Right. That makes so much more sense now. Thanks.

    Basically, voice is the lubricant between the words you are shooting at them, and your readers’ minds. Voice will either make what you are trying to communicate flow smoothly, or falter. Sure, there are MANY other factors that can hinder information flow – but voice, when used correctly, is what engages your reader. Think about it in terms of acting: You could have someone recite the lines in the script dry and monotone, or you could have someone play the part – add a personality to it, make it real. The difference is in the ‘delivery’ of the line. That’s exactly what you’re trying to capture with voice – a unique delivery. Voice, just like any other writing tool, will enhance the packaging of your story.

    I’m sold. How do I get me some?

    Before discussing some ways to bring voice to your writing, let’s take a look at a few of the different types of voice, just so we’re clear:

    Narrative Voice
    This is the voice of the narrator of your story, and is thus tied directly to point of view. This voice establishes the position the narrator (and hence, the reader) will have in relation to the events of the story. A story could be told that happened long before the narrator lived, or it could be something the narrator witnessed first hand, or the narrator could be omniscient (know everything). Narrators can also be more(close/deep POV) or less(objective POV) involved in the events and the characters’ thoughts and feelings.

    A third-person narrator tells us who, what and why something is important, and how it relates to us. We have to trust our narrator to tell us the truth, and to give us all of the important facts. But more than that, the narrator has to make us care, to convince us to invest in the characters and their struggle. Anyone can tell a story. Making someone want to hear it is what narrative voice does.

    The perfect example of a strong narrative voice:

    “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.” – Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

    Even though this narrator stands at the edge of the opening scene like an observer, we have an instant feel for who this person is(someone educated, unafraid of making such a bold statement), what sort of a situation they are heralding from(a time/place where rich men were expected to marry), and exactly what they think of those circumstances(can you say sarcasm?).

    Character Voice
    This can be present in both first and third person narrative, though it’s trickier in the third person. Unless you’re in the first person, character voice is slightly distinct from the narrative voice. You find this technique used when the story is told from multiple points of view. The difference in character voice serves to distinguish one from the next. The ‘deeper’ or ‘closer’ the third person narration is, the more ‘wrapped’ in voice it can be.

    Let’s take an over-simplified example. I’ll try to wrap the sentence “You never know when your luck is gonna change,” in different voices, just for kicks:

    “You never know when your luck is gonna change.” Charlotte smiled and closed her eyes as she threw the shiny new penny over her shoulder. It landed in the fountain with a soft plink.

    Agent Sorenson pressed the still-hot muzzle of his pistol against Johnny Fresco’s temple. “You never know when your luck is gonna change,” he whispered, low, deadly.

    Now, what’s different? Sure, each of them is in a different scenario. One’s a man, one’s a woman. One is hopeful and light, one is not good news. But how? Why? There’s nothing fundamentally different about the line in either case. It’s the delivery that has changed – the wrapping.

    The Writer’s Voice
    I can’t find any clear definition for what constitutes the writer’s/author’s voice. I believe it is a mix of narrative and character voice (as I’ve described them here) as well as another element, called tone, or mood. Tone, mood, and voice are often used interchangeably. But for my purposes, I’ll say that the tone sets the mood and determines the voice. By tone, I mean the ‘overall feel’ of the writing. Is it formal or casual? Acedemic/informative, or strictly entertaining/light? Is it down and gritty erotic, or is it wistfully romantic? The tone you use to write in will set the mood for the reader. It also determines what voice will be used.

    I’d like to throw in another term, and call it message. I believe that this is the soul of the writer’s voice. What is the deeper message you want your story to carry? Is it that we all end up down on our luck, and it’s what we make of those times that determines our value? Is it that you should never wear white shoes after Labor Day? Whatever it is, it all starts there. What is your message – what tone, mood and voice do you need to get that message across?

    And what am I supposed to do with all this mumbo-jumbo?

    Now that I’ve gone in a great big circle, we can talk about the elements of voice. This, I promise, is less confusing. There are basically two things that determine voice: word choices and pacing. How long are your sentences, and what are they made of? It really is that simple. Is it a short, clipped delivery of sharp, cutting words? Or is it long, flowy and descriptive? (And yes, I meant to type flowy. Flow-y. It’s not a word, but it should be.)

    Once you’ve discovered what your voice IS, all you have to do is stick to it by asking yourself, “How would ‘so and so’ say this?” That ‘so and so’ is either a character, your narrator, or you. All of them reside in your own head (hopefully). So, the first step on your quest for voice is to get to know the voices in your own head and start to distinguish them from each other. What makes them unique? Or, if you can’t quite manage that – pick up a book, and start hunting for the voice – look at the word choices, and the pacing and try to find patterns. I wish I had more concrete stuff to give you, but it’s still sort of a mystery to me.

    If you figure it out, will you let me know?

  • The Night Is A Harsh Mistress, by A. Catherine Noon

    Welcome to the world of Rachel Carmichael, self-employed Private Detective and Security Consultant. Join us as we follow Rachel on her adventures and, hopefully, on the path to quitting smoking!

    The Night Is A Harsh Mistress

    Chapter 1

    Rachel Carmichael stubbed out her cigarette grumpily. She kept quitting, but kept starting back up. Stupid habit. She smoothed her lips together, deciding there was still enough lip gloss to be respectable. She popped a mint in her mouth and pushed off the wall.

    Seven different bars tonight, and so far, none of them were the right one. A peel of laughter split the night ahead of her and she froze. Maybe her luck was changing.

    Her quarry had great taste in shoes, and a better budget than Rachel. Maybe if she quit smoking, she could afford shoes like that, she thought sourly. The woman was tall, even with the four-inch come-fuck-me stilettos. Her long blond hair spilled down her back in a perfect curtain, cut off in a neat line and hardly moving in the breeze.

    The man with her was short but muscular. He still wore his suit, but the tie was stuck in a pocket. He was liable to lose it, carrying it like that; but from the look in his eye as he watched the woman, he didn’t care about his tie. He followed her, stumbling a little, toward the parking lot.

    Rachel snapped four pictures of them before they were even in sight of his car. He had a nice ride; a black Mercedes that was deceptively large and spacious. The windows were tinted and allowed little light through, but they obliged by engaging in a prolonged make-out session right against the side of the car. His hand disappeared up the slit in her dress and she moaned. Rachel would have bet money the sound was faked, theatricality at its best. She snapped another two shots and returned to the shadows.

    She added up what she had so far and decided to call it a night. Her watch told her accusingly it was nearly four in the morning. She sighed bitterly. Yet another night she’d been up past the witching hour. At least this time, she’d caught the quarry. This paycheck would pay the rent on her office for the next three months.

    Since she lived there, that was a good thing.

    She parked in the lot below the building, the early morning hush closing in around her like a hand. She rode the elevator up to her floor, hardly speaking to Jim in the guard station. She unlocked the door, the inset window proclaiming, “Rachel Carmichael, Private Detection and Security Consultation.” Funny, but she’d thought the second part of her company name would attract more clients, and more interesting work. So far, all she’d gotten were three angry husbands and a missing teenager. She was bored, but at least it was her own business.

    She threw her purse on her desk and pulled another cigarette out of the dwindling pack. As the flame bloomed and she took a deep breath, she wondered for the fifth time that night if she ought to quit. She inhaled again, staring out the window.

  • Kat’s Site Reviews – sexyjack

    Happy Monday!

    Today officially begins our rotating schedule of blogging here on the WRB. I’m Kathleen (or Kat) and you’ll be stuck with my random ramblings every other Monday. I’ll try to keep things as entertaining and informative as possible!

    Today I’ll be reviewing an excellent photo compilation site, sexyjack. I was actually just having a discussion last night with some friends about how many hours we have collectively spent viewing this site. It is fabulous! The site consists of page after page of sexy photos. It ranges from classy subtle to the more obvious erotic. The photos are mostly of women, but they throw a man in every now and then too (usually doing something sexy with a woman).

    My favorite thing about this site is that it’s updated daily. That’s right, daily! It just doesn’t get any better than that.

    Now, to tie this into writing (since this is the blog of a bunch of writers). On our group forum we periodically post a picture as a prompt and then each write a flash story in response. I had never done this before, but find that it is a really great exercise. It’s a lot of fun and very interesting to see the wide variety of entries that are posted all based off the same picture.

    I enjoyed doing these exericses enough that I thought it’d be great to compile a few pictures of my own to pull out and use as prompts whenever I needed inspiration, or wanted to take a break from my current project. As an author of erotica, it just made sense to look for sexy pictures (see, it’s not just about the porn!). This is what led me to sexyjack. As an example of the type of thing I’m talking about, check this out:

    Does that picture not just scream for its story to be written? I think so.

    So, that’s my rambling for today. Hope you enjoyed it. For more from me, you can check out my individual blog here.

  • Flights of Fantasy

    I did a short interview with paranormal/fantasy author Debbie Mumford.

    I’m also reading her paranormal romance novel, Second Sight, and will be posting a review when I’m finished. Stay tuned.

    The interview is here.

  • Flash Friday the First

    Every Friday, we will post links to a collection of flash pieces written by our contributing Authors. They may be related to the same prompt, they may be randomly assembled, they will always be enjoyable.

    This week, we have a collection of submissions to the FFC Spring 2008 Edition. There were several options available on the theme: Vernal (Spring) Equinox, Spring Break, St. Patrick’s Day, Easter

    Eaton
    Redemption

    Liz
    The First Sign of Spring: After winter’s bitter gloom has leached the hope out of the land, everyone is desperate for the first sign of spring’s promise.

    Gwen
    Illumination: Astrid performs a ritual to look into the future and finds an answer she did not expect. (Equinox)

    A.Catherine
    Spring: Winter stayed late the year Tia Maria died, as though the mountains themselves mourned her passing, and the wind and sky also. They say she died without an heir and that the People will suffer, but I don’t believe them. I know better. Little Ana was born that frozen night when Tia Maria breathed her last. She came into this world as the old woman left it. My daughter Ana had an easy birth, I’m told by the other women, but I have nothing to compare it to. Ana was my first birth, and she was stillborn.

    Kathleen
    Easter Eve: A mother reflects as she prepares for Easter morning.