Tonight’s F-Word of the Day writing exercise is from the heart, where 24 hours formed new friendships, and we celebrated our moments of glory together. Some of my time spent wishing away the “I can’t believe I just said that out loud” moments.
The Flash It! Online Launch Party consumed every bit of those 24 hours with hardly an idle moment, no opportunity wasted for those of us twitching with the urge to write. Friday and Saturday were perfect, focused on writing, thinking or talking about writing, laughing, eating chocolate Halloween candy to stay awake, while washing it down with mug after mug of strong coffee.
Finally, the end brought a crest of excitement for everyone. Even the neighbors lit up a smoke, fully satisfied with the overall performance and experiences shared.
Dear Members of the Fiction Writers Group, and New Friends:
Our time together was life changing. My soul seems elated and satiated in ways I cannot fully comprehend, let alone try to explain. Just a few short weeks ago, I didn’t share what I have written with anyone other than family. Quite frankly, I published my first blog during a full-blown anxiety attack.
Tonight, thanks to all of you, I am writing with confidence, pride and knowledge gained from winning FOUR brand new books! Someone new emerged from the folds. A better writer indeed. Thank you.
“Don’t be fooled,” Earl whispered to the group. “She was screaming wild banshee when she came out of that closet.”
Today’s F-Word of the Day represents, in large part, the reason I have not posted since October 30th. Does that mean the statement above is fiction? False, a lie? No.
Recently I have been on a writing frenzy (another great F-word) and I am exploring various writing groups, forums, blogs and contests. The one in the forefront of many writers focus now is National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). Every year, writers commit to writing a 50,000 word novel… in 30 days!
My brother-in-law, typing away at his computer, should have set goals of producing somewhere between 1,500 and 2,000 words each day. Amazing!
Having a little less ambition than he, I joined a Fiction Writers Group on Facebook and I am having fun getting to know other writers, exploring the craft and seeking advice from those fun folks, many of whom are much more experienced than me.
Stay tuned, I will return tomorrow with another F-Word of the Day. Thanks for stopping by!
Normally, my F-Word of the Day exercise would get at least twenty minutes from me, but tonight my husband monopolized some of my free time with administrative tasks.
I suppose he considered our marriage package included a famulus, a bonus, in addition to the wonderful wife and mother I am. He frequently offers me the opportunity to take care of his administrative duties.
Apparently, he finds computer work burdensome and frustrating – and considers the twenty dollars I charged him a fair exchange.
I will do my F-Word of the day later this evening, but I couldn’t resist this writing exercise, for several reasons:
I published my first blog two weeks ago today
This is my first submission to Daily Prompt
I have experienced many firsts in the past few weeks
Today’s prompt word happens to begin with the letter F
I am new to blogging – a newborn infant still suckling from the blogging breast. I published my first blog on October 16th – fourteen short days ago. I had read an article a few days beforehand that it was imperative, especially in today’s age of technology and social media markets, for a business to have either a website or a blog. In order to expand my internet presence as a freelance Virtual Assistant and new business owner of Virtually Self Employed.I figured the blog made more sense for me and would be easier to create. And my first blog, VirtuallySelfEmployed.com was born.
In addition to owning a blog, I also enjoy writing. Mostly fiction,a little prose here and there, and word-nonsense too. I had never shared my work with strangers for fear of someone telling me how terrible I was as a writer, or my mind is twisted, or both. Many pieces still live in a filing cabinet, hoarded treasures for me and me alone to cherish. Two weeks ago was the first time I let my writing escape the confines of home.
After I realized mixing professional and personal posts was probably not the best practice, I created a second blog, a place where I could explore the twisted side of my brain, without inadvertently offending a client or confusing my followers. “Reckless Abandon: Life is an F-Word” is my newest adventure, where freedom of expression and language use can be experienced, not just written or read. I created a daily exercise similar to the Daily Prompt called the F-Word of the Day, another first for me.
My 11-year-old daughter hates to read, but loves to write. We enjoy the F-Word of the Day exercises together, and we write stories almost nightly. Yes, you guessed it, another first.
I got the call from dispatch at 2.56 a.m. Another murder case in the Commons area, close to the state line.
As I lifted my eyelids from beneath the warm comfort of slumber, seeing those numbers on the clock kicked my mental health and stability straight to the curb. I had only gone to sleep two hours ago, damn it.
Every muscle screamed in protest as I pulled myself closer toward a sitting position. As I did, a groaned whimper left my mouth, and an unexpected burst of gas escaped from underneath my back side. None of these physical conditions were foreign to me. I was getting old.
I don’t suppose playing tackle football earlier in the day with my fellow dicks helped matters much. Overburdened by the effort, my head fell swiftly backward, pounding the pillow with brute force and intention. I allowed five more minutes for my eyes to stay closed. I needed to rest. My body and my psyche were now demanding it.
Five minutes later I was up and as mentally awake as I could be considering the time of morning, and my current withered state of exhaustion. No time for a shower. Dressed and out the door in ten and on scene in twenty-five.
Every other cop stood outside the front entrance of the residence, which reminded me of the Bates house overlooking the motel in the movie “Psycho.” Three stories of dark, dank misery stood before me, every bit symbolic of the freak-show horror movie house on the hill that watched over that motel.
Isn’t this something? My curiosity piqued when as I approached the fence my crew remained standing outside the scene .
“Rosenberg, why the hell are you out here? The scene usually calls for you be inside?” My emphasis prompted him to shuffle on his feet. But he didn’t move.
“Chief, the scene…” he paused for a second and continued. “The scene is feculent , sir.”
“What the hell is feculent, Sergeant?” suddenly feeling ignorantly stupid. “Don’t answer that. Get your fat ass over here, you’re with me.”
Smacked upside the olfactory ten feet from the door, I hesitated before going in. Today was going to suck. Entering the house of a hoarder was bad enough. Entering a hoarder’s domain where a body lay rotting, that’s another story entirely. The stench was thick and laid heavy nearer the floor.
As I lumbered one leg over a massive heap, my other leg quickly met another, and another. This scene, covered in feces and reeking of ammonia , scattered soiled laundry, half-empty food containers, trash, cat shit. Yeah, today was going to suck.
Inside, past the eight piles of shit between the door and the kitchen lay the body of Ms. Samantha Weathersby, my sixteen year old niece.
Once there was a banal family, they did nothing. Five people in the family. The dad’s name was Jorge. Also the mother’s name was Madison but she goes by Maddie. The couple had three kids. The oldest was 12 and her name was Hanna. She had two little brothers named Johnny and Jackson. But Johnny was four years older.
The family had a grand house. In the house was a long narrow hallway and passage at the end. Nobody dared to enter. Until one day Johnny got home from school, and stared at the endless hallway, then after about an hour later took a step across the line and was dragged about twenty feet in. That boy was so scared out of his mind. Finally he escaped and ran as fast as he could. TO BE CONTINUED !!!!!!
Miah submitted this story using Fistula as her baseline. Mother and daughter share the F-Word of the Day exercises, and she will make regular appearances in this blog. Way to go, Miah!
Immediately after I entered the house I felt it. A feeling I know all too well but hadn’t experienced in some time. I welcomed the warm embrace of adrenaline. I had missed it, the bubbling in my veins. Charged with paranormal energy, I let myself go for a moment, nearly lost in a flood of voltage pumped electricity. Beautifully coaxed nearly to submission, dominated by raw power and heightened emotion. Every hair on my head stood erect.
As I opened my eyes, I was looking up toward the imperial ceiling where a Godlike mural stared down upon me. If I didn’t know better, it was feeding from my fluid energy. The intensity calming with every passing second.
A whispered scent of caution traveled from my listening ears through the tiny fistula connecting real sound to the “other” hearing center inside my head, where nothing is ever truly heard, but sensed and felt.
Suddenly feeling cold, my head exploded in protest, flashing hazard lights and warning signs blinding me. I stepped further inside. Here I go.
Let’s begin! l created this blog as a fun and interesting method for writing practice. I have always enjoyed writing stories, poetry, arbitrary word-nonsense too. Whether fiction, biographical, prose, or content, until recently I had rarely if ever shared my work with anyone other than family. (And they would only indulge me if I read aloud and they could just listen – and because I usually would offer bribes in exchange).
Now that I have opened the door to my creative center in my brain, I feel it necessary to write often, and write well. Actually, my daughter is writing her piece with today’s F-Word of the Day. As a fledgling and aspiring writer, I feel the beginning (as in this very minute) will show the farouche, unpolished version of myself and my ability. However, with this blog forum I am also free to express my more adult-oriented ideas, and explore new topics normally reserved for mature audiences and participants.
This blog is R-Rated, but could venture into worlds (and rating categories) yet unimaginable for me. My thoughts and past writings have featured mystery, drama, humor, thrills, excitement, sensuality, exploration, sex, passion, and some raw material, and I plan to show more wild creativity here. My other blog focuses on G-Rated subjects.