To Series or Not to Series, That is the Question

Everyone loves a good story --

One that engages

One that makes you feel

One that ends.

I started reading a book series a year ago, recommended by a friend, and 8 books in, I read the grand conclusion...only to learn there were an anticipated 8 more books to come. Over the next decade. (That number has since been upped and last I heard, it's supposed to be 22 books in total!!!  !!!)

Ugh.

I don't know about you, but I would have waited for the whole thing if I'd known.

Some people prefer an ongoing story. Some want to have it all, right now. 

Which are you?

And yet, there is joy in taking a journey, one episode at a time. Because writing and editing isn't enough, I've been elbow deep in video editing (and getting better all the time), writing descriptions, and scheduling posts out to the moon and back. Although I'm totally a consume-it-right-now girl, we're putting out a series. One minute at a time.

Our awesome co-hosts this month are Kate Larkinsdale, SE White, JS Pailly, Olga Godim, and Natalie Aguirre!

Happy 15 year anniversary, IWSG!!!

Today's question: Do you have a favorite character archetype you tend to gravitate toward in your writing?

Do I ever! The tortured, brooding hero is definitely a favorite (with religious/moral roots), as is the snarky female lead. Oh, and the geeky, misunderstood character. And the quiet, bullied underdog. And the righteous Javerts (justice seekers, for those not familiar with Les Miserables). --All those with a side of ridiculous support characters whose personalities are usually the opposite of my lead. 

We're inviting friends to support an author this month through the hop. Unfortunately, about six months ago, my publisher pulled the first book in my series with the intent to repackage and rerelease. I don't have a date yet, but books 2 and 3 are still available, along with several anthologies I've contributed to. I'll list just my books and one anthology here. 

MOONLESS

SOULLESS

TIMELESS

PARELLELS

Do you like series? Would you rather have it all right now or in snippets over time? What's your favorite type of character to write/read?

The Big Stupid: Making Adult Decisions Like an Adult (and How Not To) IWSG edition

What is your big dream? Something you thought impossible?

Every year I feel my age more and think about things I want to do. The things I have done. The things that are no longer realistic.

My husband is the same way, and this year he decided to do something about it.

So he took back up rollerblading.

At first, he was lucky to keep his balance. I kept my mouth shut...until he came home bruised from a fall.

He bought protective gear.

He watched YouTube videos and learned how to fall, new techniques, then practiced them in our garage. 

Occasionally, he came home with another booboo, but for the most part, he did pretty well -- until he could go out for an hour each day, cruising the neighborhood.

The rest is his story, and you can read it if you'd like: 

Click on me!

It boils down to this: he chased a dream, he achieved the dream, he got confident, he made a bad decision.

And now he's recovering from reconstructive shoulder surgery. For his dominant arm.

Chase your dreams. But stay humble. Listen to that little voice that warns you when you're about to make the big stupid. Hubris goes before the fall.

Our awesome co-hosts for this month are: Rebecca Douglass, Ronel Janse van Vuuren, Cathrina Constantine, and Jacqui Murray!

The question: Is there anything you'd like to see changed, added, and/or rearranged about the book publishing industry?

So, so much! Alas, if wishes were lollipops... (Don't ask me where I'm going with that. LOL!)

I think the biggest problem the industry used to have was a HUGE barrier to entry, and now it's the opposite.

Everyone should have the opportunity to reach for their dreams, but it doesn't seem there's much reaching when it's too easy to obtain. I'm not saying writing a book is easy, and there are many things to learn when it comes to publishing.

I mean that with the ease of publishing, the market has been flooded by scammers, AI agents, etc. who are looking to make a penny. And I can't blame them. Everyone needs to eat. There are even people who sincerely put out their best work...whether it's ready to see the light of day or not. And my heart aches for them -- because this is a brutal world and you learn that through reviews.

The sheer number of books released (good and bad) make for a lot of noise and sometimes a breakdown of trust between readers and the publishing world. Where is our quality control? I guess that's what I'm trying to say--because we've gone from one extreme to the other. There's a perfect middle ground somewhere. I think.

What dream are you holding back on? Have you ever made a big stupid? Broken a bone? What are your feelings on the publishing industry?

How To Sell Time (IWSG & an Announcement!)

If only you had a corner on that market, eh?

The IWSG question this month is a timely one (pun intended):

Did you ever say “I quit”? If so, what happened to make you come back to writing?

When I was in high school, I backed away from writing for a time. It was a wise decision as it made room for social aspects I would have otherwise missed--including meeting my husband. It wasn't an "I quit" per se, but I never expected to seriously return to writing.

Five years later, when I was married, a college student, and needing some sanity, I pulled out my old notebooks and FINALLY finished my first novel. All 140,000 words of it. (For non writerly types, that's about twice as long as your average book.) Next thing I knew, I'd written a novella that eventually became MOONLESS, then a musical with a full orchestral score, then six other books...

It was the right time for writing.

But, as is inevitable, I've cycled into a new season. All my writerly loves are sitting in their file folders, begging for my attention...and not getting it. There will come a time again when I write as prolifically as before, but right now, I'm consumed with 5 major projects: one in his sophomore year of college at age 16, two of them in 5th and 7th grade home school, one in home preschool, and the last one...

For those of you who may not have seen the announcement:

She even smiled for the picture!!!

The time for writing will come again. For now, I'm a full-time teacher, part time blogger, part time taxi, house keeper, and periodic book reviewer. That'll do, eh?

HUGE thanks to Alex J. Cavanaugh

and his cohosts, JH Moncrieff, Madeline Mora-Summonte, 
Jen Chandler, Megan Morgan, and Heather Gardner!

Three weeks ago, Krystal Jane Ruin shared NO REST FOR THE WICKED along with two truths and one lie. Anyone who guessed was entered to win an AWESOME prize pack.

The game:

1. I once got lost in England, alone, at night, by myself. I was coming back from seeing Phantom of the Opera at the Royal Opera House in London and went out a different exit than planned. I found by way back by following signs for the British Museum as my hotel was off an adjoining street. I only ran into three weirdos.

2. I once got lost in Spain coming back from Castle Alcazar in Segovia. I wandered around the mountains for a couple of hours looking at the pretty scenery before growing tired and taking a trolley to the cemetery across from the hotel, which was the closest he could get me on his route. 

3. I once got lost in Switzerland. I got distracted by the pretty buildings on the way to see the famous Lion Monument in Lucerne. I lost my tour group, and was found by the trip director on my way back to the prison hotel who took me on a walking tour of the city while he ran some errands.

The lie: #2. 

From Krystal: I've never been to Spain, but this exact thing happened to me in Edinburgh. I got turned around after exploring Edinburgh Castle, and the cemetery was across from the dorms we were staying in, not a hotel. I get lost a lot.

And the winner is:

...DRUM ROLL...

Suzanne Furness!

Congrats, Suzanne!

And now, about selling time:

With subtle wit, and poignant imagery, the unrelenting passage of time connects the vignettes in Theresa Milstein's Time and Circumstance. This reflective collection of real and imagined poetry and prose, speculates on an erratic childhood, the uncertainty of adolescence, and the reality of parenthood, through flashbacks of love lost and found.

"This everyday, why again, sometimes

ignored tune has measured time in notes, 

seconds, minutes, days, years, and so it goes. 

It's a measure of the man he will become."

Buy your copy on Amazon.

Ready to meet the author?

Theresa Milstein writes middle grade and YA, but poetry is her secret passion. Vine Leaves Press published her vignette collection, TIME & CIRCUMSTANCE on March 21, 2017. She lives near Boston Massachusetts with her husband, two children, a dog-like cat, and a cat-like dog. For her day job, she works as a special education teacher in a public school, which gives her ample opportunity to observe teens and tweens in their natural habitat.

For Theresa, picking a favorite cheese is like choosing a favorite child ... almost. You might stumble across her eating a soft blue cheese or a gouda with a little crunch, some fresh bread, olives, and wine while hanging out with friends or family who are visiting her home.

Theresa gave me two truths and one lie to test your "lie detector" skills. If you guess the lie, right or wrong, you will be entered to win an ebook of TIME AND CIRCUMSTANCE, and if you guess correctly, you will win a SIGNED HARDCOPY! (Open internationally.) IF YOU DON'T HAVE A BLOGGER ACCOUNT WITH AN EMAIL ON THE PROFILE, PLEASE LEAVE YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS IN THE COMMENTS OR EMAIL IT TO crystal@crystal-collier.com WITH YOUR SCREEN ALIAS.

You have until Tuesday, June 20th at 2 p.m. EDT to guess. Be sure to come back for the answer on June 21, 8 a.m. EDT.

TRUTH OR LIE

1. Right after college, I landed a job as a make a makeup artist at Macy's, Herald Square, New York City. This led to a year doing makeup for a few shows on The Food Network. 

2. During the summer, I worked as a carney in the game booths on Long Island. I hated working the fixed games, though I hated running the sticky cotton candy booth even more.

3. One semester, I interned with a U.S. Congressman in New York, which meant handling a lot of angry phone calls, looking up data, tracking potholes, and attending events.

So sleuths, which is the lie? What would you do with a spare bottle of time? Have you met Theresa? Do you read poetry? Have you ever quit something you LOVE?

How to find Happiness A-Z: W

Image courtesy of www.localvox.com

W is for all the work.

Looking back over the years, I often wonder when was I the happiest. Do you ever pause and ponder that? In my "E" post I talked about education, and how the times I've been learning are the times I'm happiest. That's because I'm working toward a goal.

I've never appreciated my music talents as much as I should. They come easily. But writing? Writing has always been a challenge. I have an abstract brain. What I mean is, I get modern art. Poetry is a cinch. Artsy-fartsy mumbo-jumbo clicks.

Image courtesy of thisisbossi

Suffice it to say, I've had to work hard at writing to make sure all that abstractness fades away. I've dedicated years to this pursuit, feeling I lacked the natural talent many of my peers were blessed with. The other day I read this in How to Write  Damn Good Novel by James N Fray:

"Most of these folks with so much raw talent will not make it as a novelist. Why? Because they lack what's truly necessary: self-discipline, dogged determination, and stick-to-tiveness."

This is my golden prize. This is the next big mountain I've been climbing, and some day I'm going to look back and see the effort has paid off. Regardless, my joy doesn't come from the view at the end, it's a part of every step, every new concept mastered, every page completed, and every head-pounding frustration along the way.

What are you working toward? And do you find joy in your labor?

Yup, it's Like That

Being a writer is like this:



I laughed at this scene because I live it so many times a day. As a writer, most days you think you're a full on manic-depressive--bouncing off the walls one minute, crawling the floor in agony the next.

Minute #1: "Look, an agent wants my manuscript! Yay!" *happy dance* *high fiving the cat* *doing cartwheels* *making macho faces at the microwave* "Who's the awesomest writer? Oh yeah. You're looking at her!"

Minute #2: *staring at document in terror* "I-I can't send this. No." *clutching literary baby to chest* "I won't let them hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you." *holding book away* "But if I really love you, I have to let you go." *trembling* "He/she's going to hate you. I know it. We can't bear another rejection. Why? WHY, CRUEL WORLD?!"

We all have our confidence battles, right? But ultimately Rapunzel was right to get out of her tower and discover the world. I guess it's a universal truth, and who couldn't use a little "Rapunzel" optimism every now and again?

And because of that, I've decided that instead of sitting back and observing (like I've done for the last couple years,) I'm going to hop on board the Blogging from A to Z challenge in April. *deep breath* Will I see you there?

What are you struggling with right now? And are you listening to Rapunzel or Flynn?

The Other Side of the Line

You never know what's coming right around the bend.

For those of you who are working on a goal you're afraid will never pan out, I hope this strikes home. Today I read a post from an author who just got signed with her literary agent. She spoke about months and months of putting her stuff out there and receiving either no or little feedback--most of it terribly demoralizing. Then, suddenly she got "the email." (Followed by a phone call.) An agent had her manuscript nine months before offering representation.

The author marveled at how close she'd been the entire time and pointed out that the line between endless (nightmarish) querying and success is so thin.

I'm hoping for myself that holds true. Some of you may recall me ranting about Pitch Wars a month ago. Well, it's finally over. I placed second (out of 600 original entries) receiving only 1 less request than the winner. My FULL manuscript was requested by 7 agents--7 DIFFERENT literary agents. The very next day #pitmad took place, and my coach from Pitch Wars was out there tweeting my pitch. (Sharon, you are amazing!) She dragged me out of my hiding place and between the both of us, we landed 3 more requests.

Now the hard part: waiting. I've sent out my manuscript, and while it's burning the inbox or "to read" folder of agents, I'll be penning out the draft of another book.

It only takes one "yes", one to light the world on fire. I'm encouraged by the reminder that the line is so thin. One brave step stands between me and the other side of the line.

What are you working on now? What are your goals and hopes? How are you holding up?

The Death of the Dream

The neck is stretched out, vulnerable and bare.

Chop.

And there you have it, the headless chicken.

Have you ever had a secret dream? One you wanted so bad you'd move the earth to have it? Since I was 6 years old, I've known what I wanted to do.

Grandpa said I could talk anyone's ear off as a toddler--I just had so much to say. I quieted down when I started drawing horses at 3, then unicorns, then cartoon characters. Pictures consisted of multiple layers or stories, characters doing things in the background that contributed to the overall development of a plot--and I was in heaven.

At six, I finally could apply words. My first book was "The Elephant Father's Day Surprise", illustrated and written by a steady-handed seven year old. Story dreams filled my nights, and their preservation led to my first non-illustrated (and handwritten) ten-page story at ten years old.

Writing through elementary school allowed me to escape from from 1. my older brother, whose life mission it seemed was to make my existence, well, not so happy, 2. the ostracization from my peers because I happened to have a funny name (C.Hicken--literally), and 3. the girls at church who turned their noses up because I was in a younger school grade. Writing enabled me to vent, emotionally.

At twelve I completed my first hundred page novella, and my plan for life. I would become a writer, published by the grand old age of sixteen--a career I could easily manage around my expectations of being a wife and mother one day. I smile now to think back on that.

The one thing that is inevitable in life: change.

We moved to a new neighborhood. I stepped into a new school with the chance to be whoever I wanted. (Chicken became cool, by the way.) We were attending a different congregation where I was not only accepted, but welcomed with open arms. My brother finally realized that I loved him, despite it all. Life was no longer one cloudy storm after another. I could see the sun, and it illuminated the world with new-found understanding.

People are what really matter.

At 14 I made a firm decision to quit writing. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but I did it to become a better person.

I've often wondered who I'd be if I hadn't quit. Where would I be now? I know myself. Once I set a goal, let heaven and hell get out of the way. It's going to happen. I would have researched, attended conferences, met agents, completed a writing program in college, entered every writing contest and won myself a place on the shelves.

But at what cost?

When this life is over I won't look back and say, "Man, I'm sure glad I had a successful career." I'll see the faces of my children, my husband, close friends, relatives and others, and I'll think, "What an amazing life I lived."

So back to that dream. Is it okay to let it die? Ten years ago I completed my first full-length novel. Nine years back I got my first rejection and finished my second novel. Eight years ago I wrote a musical and expanded to orchestral composition. Seven years ago I moved to New York City, met my first literary agent, discovered the joy of editing, wrote another novel, and turned my back on the idea of public school. (I mean, it was NYC. Can you blame me?) Six years ago I put it on hold to raise two babies and home school my oldest (while writing book 5 for fun). Five years back I started a blog--simply to share my writing with family and friends on the other side of the country. Four years ago I finished book 6.

People tell me I'm a great writer. People say they love my stories. Those people aren't agents or publishers.

AND THAT'S OKAY.

The last rejection jarred my eyes wide open, and so I am on the verge of killing the dream--the one that got me through some of the hardest years of my life, the one that has always been my distant star and great hope. Maybe I don't need to be published by someone else. Maybe I don't need an agent to validate my talent. Maybe I should give in to my hubby who keeps begging to let him publish me.

Maybe.

Why do you write? --or do whatever you do? And what is your life-long dream?

Those Evil Sequence Words

I love the English language. Don't you? There's a hundred ways to say the exact same thing--which is what makes every writer's voice so unique. But, often I find myself pulled out of the scene by the way the story's written. In fact, there's only been one or two books in the last couple years that didn't distract me with language. (Throne of Glass, and anything Dean Koontz.) So what is it that pulls me out?

Telling words.

So often we hear about "telling" vs "showing". The idea is to immerse the reader so thoroughly in a literary experience that they forget they're reading. Successful authors suck the readers in by the senses--all five, and keep them feeling the whole journey long. We've all had the experience. You're on page one, and suddenly you're on the last chapter, gasping for breath and reliving the final scene against the back of your eyelids.

Telling words smack readers in the face and remind them that they're holding a book (or e-reader). My advice? DON'T USE THEM!

Easier said than done, right? Today lets look at one example of things to avoid.

Sample (bad): First Marty picked up the mirror, then stepped out onto the back porch. Finally, he lifted it toward the sun...

Problem: Sequence words--listing the order in which he did things. Why not just use bullet points, eh? There is nothing that screams, "I'M TELLING YOU WHAT'S HAPPENING" worse than listing them. Ax sequence words before they ax you.

Sample (better): Marty picked up the mirror. He stepped onto the back porch and lifted it toward the sun.

Analysis: Right to the action. This is stronger. Is it the best thing out there? No, but you can see for yourself how listing sequences is unnecessary and distracting. PLEASE avoid them.

Ready to go WAY beyond this simple little lesson? If you truly want to suck your readers into the moment, help them FEEL it through the five senses. Isolate the emotion you want the reader to experience and create an atmosphere through simile, metaphor, imagery and word choice.

Example (immersive): Marty's fingers slipped around the cool plastic hand mirror. His grip tightened as he shoved through the swinging door. Fractured light danced off the reflective surface, coating the splintered porch in puddles of light. He heaved a breath and lifted it toward the sun.

Suddenly we have a hint he's got some trepidation. We experience the lack of heat in the mirror, the tension in his movement, the roughness of his surroundings, the contradiction in smooth puddles of light. If I were reading that paragraph, I'd want to know why he's anxious and what's going to happen next.

Alright, writerly friend, what words of wisdom can you add?

Channel the Rage: Exploding Tomatoes

At the best family reunion ever, we learned how to make homemade explosives.

The little kids adopted tomatoes. They painted faces on them, gave them cute personalities, even named them. Then we cracked open their craniums, filled them with modified fireworks, and blew them to bits. Sadistic? Perhaps. Entertaining? To no end.

Why do I bring this up? My head feels a bit like one of those tomatoes right now, and I have to wonder if someone in the cosmos is giggling while they watch the fuse burn. Rather than shaking my fists at the  heavens or madly digging at the inevitable tragedy, I find myself scribbling like a lunatic through the insomniatic hours of the night. (See exhibit A: the time stamp on this post.)

I suppose the point is, we choose our reaction to the things we can't control (like having our heads blown up). For me at the moment, that includes the inability to sleep, a sinus infection, and the ever-sounding doubts about my writing talent/worth--you know, the ones threaten to keep me awake for the rest of all time?

Every pain is manageable if we can figure out how to use it for our gain, so rather than exploding, I'm learning to channel the rage. I'm finding:

1. I've never appreciated a full night's sleep more than in the last several months. (Even when raising infants.)

2. While battling with chronic sinusitis (thank you allergies), I've come to treasure the moments when I have enough energy to do the things I desire. I'll never take good health for granted again.

3. Instead of breaking down at every rejection/negative word, I've discovered fuel for a megalomaniac writing fiend. Each query rejection has turned into a new scene, charged by these overwhelming emotions. Every subtle "you suck," (especially the ones in my own head,) have led to knuckle cracking and coiled muscles. I'm ready to fight. Bring on the punching bag, er, page!

What's keeping you up at night? 

And You thought Your Vacation was Long

Yes, I admit it, I've been vacationing from the blog realm--but I haven't been sitting on some beach sipping a fruity (but non-alcoholic) drink. No, this has been a working vacation.


You know those times when (crazy as it might seem) LIFE becomes more important than blogging? Yup. Welcome to the last three months.

Things accomplished:

--Got my daughter through 6 months worth of school in 2 months
--Attended a writing conference
--Established & started teaching curriculum for 3 kids for a new school year
--Landed some PAID music writing work *happy dance*
--Started planning an updated website/blog
--Revamped a 3 year old manuscript
--AND RECEIVED A FULL MANUSCRIPT REQUEST FROM A PUBLISHER!!!!

So now it's official. I have to be a serious writer...as long as I can take my cheese with me. What have you been up to?

Take that Writer's Block!

So you have writer's block. Calm down. Relax. I've got it too.

"I think writer's block is simply the dread that you are going to write something horrible." (Roy Blount, Jr.)

Cures:

• Resign yourself to the fact that you have to write.
• Exercise. 
• Focus your energy. Rehearse the task in your head.
• Stop the discouraging mental dialog. That's right. You CAN do this.
• Listen to music.
• Stretch!
• Breathe. 
• UNPLUG THE INTERNET!!
• Snack. (Especially on cheese.) 

And if none of those work...well, you've always got wonderful resources like this: http://funstuff.pantomimepony.co.uk/writers-plot-ideas.htm

When I get stuck all I need is one idea, one spark to get me going again. James Scott Bell in Plot & Structure suggested something I'd never considered before: the list.

Dun dun dun!

What is "the list" you ask? It's a collection of nouns, random words that pop out of your subconscious, bringing with them passion-inducing memories. Because writing comes from the heart, these nouns should prompt an emotion, and that emotion should be enough to get your fingers flying.

To illustrate I'll share one of mine: Honey.

My mom would collect "honey" orders from our neighbors and coordinated fresh deliveries once or twice a year. Every time the honey guy came we'd receive a whole bunch of extras, but the very very best part were the honey sticks. Imagine pixie sticks--but clear plastic, filled with golden sticky liquid. One particular year I recall dueling with honey sticks, me and all of my siblings, in the front yard near dusk. Magic.

Now, imagine taking the power of one such memory and infusing the emotion with your current scene. All I can hear is a big fat "WIN"!

Those are some of my methods for kicking writer's block back into his ugly corner. How do you deal with writer's block? What do you do to overcome it?

It's all about AUDIENCE

Compulsive... That pretty much sums it up.

Haven't kicked this contest bug yet, so I started browsing writing contests. (Chalk it up to the desire for a few more publishing credits.) I found one for WOMEN in flash fiction. Yay! I'm a woman. I write flash fiction! Not only that, I've got this great flash fiction piece my hubby loves. Done and done, right? Without a second thought I hopped on board.

Then I pulled up the fine print: Women's fiction. The audience and JUDGES are all women!

Shoot.

My piece was written for men.

Double shoot.

How important is audience? (Insert pause for pondering now.) You can have the greatest Science Fiction piece in the world, but if the judge/agent/publisher prefers Historical Fiction, your chances of coming off a cosmic conqueror are a whopping zero. It's like feeding dog food to penguins. Nutritious? Maybe, but not for boy-flipper.

Now I've written an entirely new piece of flash fiction, so help a girl out eh? Toss your thoughts and critiques at me on this 750 word rockin piece of WOMEN's flash fiction.

The Kiss of Death

Marian could not have imagined when she boarded the tram this morning that its derailing and subsequent explosion would result in her finding true love.

With a copy of Glamour and coffee clasped in each hand, she had stepped on, prepared for another mundane day at the office. Her greatest worry had been lipstick smears on her teeth, or embarrassing herself in front of steamy James Laughlin, again. She couldn’t wait to spend lunch proofreading the latest articles, or stealing moments with the boss to get ahead…

Each unrealized routine flashed through her mind as she stood with forty-three other disembodied souls. Their blackened and water-logged remains lay between pools of water and twisted metal, like great lumps of coal.

Firefighters cheered at having put out the flame. People crowded against the police perimeter, trying to get a closer look. Reporters blabbed their take on the “accident” to live cameras, a program she’d watch tonight, if she wasn’t dead.

Dead. Terminated. Over.

She couldn’t believe it. Who would turn off the lights she left on at the apartment? Who would feed Mister Puffkins? Who would teach her yoga class on Saturday?

A tall man pushed through the perimeter. His Valentino suit and tie were oddly out of place next to fireman’s jackets and police uniforms.

He didn’t stop to speak with the police or congratulate firemen. In fact, he didn’t acknowledge them at all, and they let him walk right through their ranks. Dark hair, longer on top, flared in a natural wave about his ears. Prominent cheeks drew notice to his perfect nose and pressed lips. His eyes pinched upward at the corners in a happy way.

He halted in front of we disembodied citizens. “All right, line up, fastest to slowest.”

They glanced about at one another in confusion.

“I see we’re dealing with the latter extreme this morning. We haven’t got all day folks.” He pulled a clipboard out of his jacket and tapped a pen to it. “And what I mean by we, is me.”

In their stunned state no one bothered to ask who he was or why they needed get in a line, just did as instructed, like dumb sheep.

Marian stood over her charred body, unwilling to move, listening as the man interviewed the first person in line.

“Name?”

“Roger.”

“Roger what?”

“Roger Marcum.”

“I see. You are forthwith accepted to paradise. Enjoy the free pastries.” His palm slammed into Roger’s forehead, and Roger disappeared. “Next please?”

A woman hobbled forward.

“Name?”

“Edna.”

“Edna what?” he asked impatiently.

“Edna Barrister.”

“Oh Edna, the summer of sixty-seven, really? I’m sorry, but you have earned a place in prison.”

“But, but-”

He smacked her forehead and she disappeared.

“Next?” He smiled welcomingly.

The line steadily diminished, but Marian couldn’t pull away from her corpse. She shouldn’t be here. She should be in Green Lake, Wisconsin, cheering with cheese heads and wishing her younger brother a happy fifteenth.

Regrets: she could have found work near home rather than graduating from college at twenty and taking this Chicago job. She could have left last winter, her first winter here to help Mom close up the craft store for good. She should have told Mom she loved her…

“Ahem.”

She looked up. Steely gray eyes met hers.

“Seems you are the only one who couldn’t find her way to the line.” The man smiled.

Sure enough, the others were gone.

She looked up into his face, worried.

“Oh Marian, what am I to do with you?” His smile had taken a more tender quality, the lines around his eyes squeezing in agony.

“Have we met?”

“You never do remember.” He stared at his feet. “Tragic, but fair I suppose.”

“No, I would remember you,” she protested.

He frowned. “So, shall we start the cycle again?”

“I’m afraid I don’t…”

“A handshake will send you on. A kiss will send you back, but either way I cannot keep you. Which shall it be?”

“You kissed me before?” she asked, surprised.

“Actually, you kissed me.”

She blushed.

“Several times, and we both very much enjoyed it.” He leaned closer. “In point of fact, I made sure you got on that tram. I had to see you again.”

Hopeless romantic and the guardian of life’s door? She was in love.

“Neither,” she whispered.

“Beg pardon?”

“No handshake. No kiss.”

His grin widened. “I dare say that is the best answer yet.”

P.S. Did you notice the cheese reference? =)
P.S.S. If you are having problems with commenting on blogger (as there's been a lot of that lately), please feel free to e-mail me your thoughts: crystal (at) immortalthemusical (dot) com

Who are you?

Writing can be a lonely endeavor.

Some days I'm like a hermit--one bursting to share everything I've penned, but frightened to pull back the curtain and expose the stitching before it's finished. Sometimes I forget there's a big world beyond my dual monitors and stack of reference books. Truth is, I'm feeling a bit...lonely.

So let's be social eh?

Hello. *waving* (Yes, I'm hiding behind my computer.) I like cheese, writing, mountains, and periodically answer to "chicken".

I also occasionally pen a song or two. (You can listen to a few here.)

But today isn't about me. It's about you.

Yes, you.

Who are you? Leave a comment and tell us a little about yourself. I'm excited to get to know you!

1. What are you working on right now?
2. What's your favorite cheese?
3. Where is the neatest place you've lived/would like to live and why?
4. If you could have one wish, what would it be?
5. What are you especially good at?