Wednesday, December 28, 2016

New Year's Resolutions

Roy's Resolutions for 2017

  1. Write a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel.
  2. Shower after every skunk hunt.
  3. Fix the faucet that's been dripping for three years.
  4. Invent a skateboard for Arizona's sand and gravel.
  5. Par the Wickieup golf course.
  6. Enter the Kingman cemetery without having to comment on its sad state of neglect.
  7. Publish No.1
  8. Publish three others just in case.
  9. Solve the political unrest and bring the country together.
  10. And the best for last - buy my friends and family lunch whenever I see them.

Wednesday, December 21, 2016

An Arizona Christmas

Is there such a thing as "An Arizona Christmas"?

I don't think so. There can only be an Arizona flavor to the style of celebration we choose to honor the birth of our savior.

Christmas, for me, means acknowledging an incarnate savior powerful enough to build a universe, not one that can be contained within any boundaries we can define. A Lord powerful enough to hold your hand regardless of what anyone else thinks of you.

It is a time we set aside to remember all the good things, to forgive and forget past immoderations, ours and those we've suffered from others. It is a time to find fresh hope as through the eyes of a newborn with all possibilities open.

It's a time to remind my family that I love them (yes, you too, Cuz.), and to tell my friends how much they mean to me.

If you would like to remember someone this Christmas, write their name(s) in the comment box. If it isn't visible, click on the blue header.
Posting on Wednesdays.
Thank a veteran.

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

Critique Groups

Murgalump pulled some strings and got me an interview with the Tale Chasers, a premier critique group that meets in Surprise, Arizona. Having access to the critiquing/editing abilities of such intricate minds is a value that any aspiring writer covets.

The Tale Chasers:

 Jack is the author of DEADRUN, a hold your breath and hang on for the ride thriller involving religious artifact theft, emerging political scenes, an unstoppable assassin, and running with the bulls. The person he throws to the wolves to complete the story is a combat veteran suffering from PTSD.  No one is guaranteed to survive.

Sandy is the coauthor of DEADRUN and the group's grammarian. Wanna know when the question mark goes outside the quotes? She can will tell you. Em dashes, apostrophes, commas, and ellipses don't scare her. She is immune to parsing intimidation.

Linda is the author of NOT ALL GHOSTS ARE HOLY, an autobiography that takes place mostly in hospitals and convents. Did you ever think there was a cold, dark spot in your room? You may be right. Fascinating and Oh, my gosh, are a couple of phrases to describe Linda's story.

I would be honored to be a part of this group. They all came to writing after working in specialized careers, but you would think they've been at it since grade school. I don't believe they're going to have much tolerance for Run, Spot, Run level of my effort, but I'm hoping to play on their sympathy. I have so much to learn from them.

What about your group? I'll bet it's fantastic. Tell us about it in comments. If the box isn't visible, click on the blue header.
Blog updates on Wednesdays.
Thank a veteran.

Wednesday, December 7, 2016

Perspire To Inspire

Sweaty Betty

Her ears glistened with a perpetual sheen. Betty's otic perspiration was well known by the student body of Mohave County Union High School. Parallels were drawn by biology students when they learned that elephants cool themselves by pumping blood into the thinner skin of their ears, but humans have to perspire.

Poor Betty endured all manner of teasing by anxiety-ridden students who found their way to fit in was to join forces and pick on her. It diverted malicious attention away from their own shortcomings.

It didn't help Betty's image that she wore her hair in pigtails. The speculation was that exposing her ears helped them evaporate the sweat faster. That may have been her goal, but it also kept her problem exposed.

The day her fate changed was when she went to a remote corner of the track/football field to escape the taunts and jibes of mean-spirited classmates and met the Big Man On Campus.
Not a class officer. It was Roy. The undisputed leader of the entire school. Already a renowned cockroach whisperer, he was training four abreast to pull a little chariot, à la Ben Hur.

He glanced up to see Betty approaching. The light behind her refracted through the moisture surrounding her ears to burst into a prism of rainbow colors. An aura more sparkly than cut glass.
He was smitten.
Now Roy had been smit before, but this was a smite that smote him with a particular smiteyness.

Some in Roy's class tried to stage an intervention, but he would have none of it. He liked Betty. If Roy wanted her, then Betty was in. That's all there was to it.
Students had to go back to taking turns being picked on since whatever Roy wanted was law.

It turned out that Betty's dad was wealthy. Roy spent the next summer vacation at their beachfront mansion in the Bahamas: horseback riding, parasailing, and scuba diving.
He said that the best part was that he wasn't wormed until he got back.

Have you been on either side of gossip? Leave a comment. If you can't see the comment box, click on the blue heading.
Posts are scheduled for Wednesdays.
Thank a veteran.