Learning to Limerick

I decided to take some of Holly's advice on crafting poetry and practice with the various forms. This is truly not as easy as it might seem. And it does not help when you pick words like 'under' that have so few words with which to rhyme. Good or not, I had fun writing it.


There once was a young lass from down under
Who would cause men to howl like thunder
She'd sway to and fro
Putting on quite a show
Leaving nothing for the imagination to wonder




Image courtesy of Easyguy...

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The Dream Sequence ~ More NaNo Passages

Note: This is completely raw and unedited.


After what seemed an eternity I fell asleep. Not that sleep was much better than the tossing and turning I was doing while awake. In my first dream I dreamt I was adrift at sea. The waves crashing against the side of the small boat. I was alone. Lightening lit up against the black night sky and thunder roared like an angry bowler trying to get a strike. I had nowhere to take cover and was having trouble keeping the boat from capsizing. I didn’t even know how I got here, let alone why.

There was someone in the water. They were calling to me. Calling for me to help them. I threw a life preserver overboard. As I was pulling them in I noticed it was Jeffrey, the old guy from Virginia Beach. He was humming row row row your boat and trying to get a round going, with me I suppose. I was trying to pull him in without pulling myself overboard. Just when I thought I had him he was gone.

The scene changed and I was on the beach. The sky was calm and the sea was gently lapping at the shore. There was a couple walking hand in hand and barefoot along the waters edge. The woman was pregnant. They were humming as they walked. I strained to hear them as they walked by. It was another childhood song. Rock-a-bye baby on the tree top…

“Are you okay?” It was Jack.

“Where am I?”

“You’re at the beach,” he replied. Well, I knew I was at the beach. Sigh.

“Yeah, what beach?” I asked clearly annoyed.

“Any beach, no beach, every beach. It’s all in your imagination, Emilia. You are wherever you want to be,” he answered. Was this some sort of riddle I was supposed to figure out? What did he mean I was wherever I wanted to be?

“That makes no sense,” I said, but I was alone. Jack was gone. The couple was gone. I stood up and started walking down the beach. But the sand stopped and now I was in the mountains. There were trees everywhere and the sun was starting to peek through just above the horizon. I was on a path covered with leaves. It was fall and the leaves were living up to their season. Crunch, crunch, crunch. I was not sneaking up on anything or anyone today. I followed the path and it just wound around. I was climbing the mountain. I looked to my right and there was a steep drop. Best to stay further in and along the pathway. The edge was a little too ominous for my liking.

Up ahead was a cabin. There was a little billow of smoke coming up and out of the chimney. I could hear roosters crowing in the background. I’m not sure why, but I knew this place. I had never been here before, but it was familiar to me all the same. I kept walking until I reached the door. I knocked. No one answered. I knocked again. “Hello?”

I turned the knob and slowly opened the door. Jack was inside. He was at the stove making what smelled like a stew. He looked up and smiled at me. Then he went back to his stirring. The smells wafted through the cabin and filled me with warmth. These were smells of familiarity. Smells of home. I stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind me. There were two mugs of hot chocolate on the counter and afghans were carefully placed on the two comfortable chairs in the living room area. The table had been set for two. Looks like he was expecting me.

I took off my coat and picked up one of the mugs of hot chocolate. There were some marshmallows in a bowl on the counter so I added a few to my cocoa. Then I walked around to where Jack was and took at peek at the stew. It smelled divine and looked even better. There were baby carrots and celery, potatoes, and green beans. It looked like beef, but could have been deer.

“It’s almost ready. Why don’t you have a seat in one of the chairs and watch tv for a bit. I’ll let you know when it’s ready,” Jack said. I walked over to one of the chairs. I placed my mug on a coaster on the coffee table and sat down. I pulled an afghan over my legs and looked around the room.
There was a fireplace with real logs and a real fire. This was the source of the chimney smoke. Over the fireplace was a painting. I knew this painting. My mother had the print when I was little. It was of a little cabin in the wood. There was a stream with some rapids in front and trees all around. It was winter and snow had fallen. Snow was lightly on the trees and gracefully covering the rocks in the stream, much like moss in the swamp.

Along the mantle was an old miniature grandfather clock, dark wood. I think cherry. There were also a few various trinkets and bobbles. The fireplace itself was red brick and worn. This cabin had been here for quite some time. Logs formed the walls and were carefully stacked and tapered in the corners. They too had seen better days. The window was simple and had a plaid drapery hung precariously over it. The furniture was simple. The coffee table was dark wood and well worn. The two oversized chairs were done in a simple brown pattern. Mine was quite comfortable. The afghans adorning the chairs were done in shades of brown and green with a hint of red. I guess that was to tie into the drapes.

“Dinner’s ready,” Jack called to me. I was so comfortable in this chair, but I mustered myself up from its warm embrace and shuffled into the little kitchen nook area with my hot cocoa in tow.
“This smells wonderful,” I cooed. The steam was billowing from the bowl, tempting me with every scent wafting my way. Jack sat down opposite me and playfully moved carrots and celery around with his spoon. He was releasing the steam, eager to take a taste.

“Sugar is sweet,” Jack said. This completely threw me.

“What?” I asked and jerked up to look at him. But he was gone. The smell of the stew no more. No fireplace and fire. The afghan, gone. I was alone, but where. The sky above was blue. It was amazingly clear. Not a cloud in sight. The air was crisp and cool. I looked around and I was up high. On a mountain top, perhaps. I could see tree tops in the distance. Birds were chirping in the trees nearest me. The colors were that of spring not fall. The seasons had changed.

I started walking, slowly. I heard a rustling and I think I heard whistling, in the distance. I move a little faster now, down the path and through the trees. There is a clearing with flowers. The spectacle is one like you would only see on tv. You know, like in one of those nature shows. There were shades of blue and yellow, pink and white. I picked up a dandelion that had gone to seed and blew. Wow, I hadn’t seen buttercups in years. I remember putting them up to my nose and yellow pollen sticking there. I was told they smelled like butter and just had to find out for myself. They don’t.

The whistling was getting louder. And there he was.

“Jack?” I asked, “What is going on?” This was getting weird, even for me. I really hope he gives me some answers and not more questions. I think I was going to be hoping for awhile longer. I was getting no response.

“Jack?” I started to circle where he was standing. He was looking down and whistling. He was digging. It looked like a hole for nothing in particular. It wasn’t very big or very deep. It was almost as if he was just digging to be doing something. I stood in front of him and watched him dig. He looked up at me for just a moment, then resumed his digging.

I gave up. I started to walk off farther into the clearing. I could see more mountains on the horizon and the sun was moving over head. It appeared I was heading east, but I couldn’t be certain. I wasn’t used to being set adrift in so many different places in such a short span of time. I was hoping I would happend upon a stream or something since I was getting bit parched.

I walked on for what seemed to be quite a while when I saw him. It was Jack. I turned and looked over my shoulder to see where I had been. Did I just walk in a circle? I couldn’t have. I never turned and I’m still in the meadow area. Yet, there he was digging that damn hole. I sighed and kept walking. I slowed as I neared Jack and glanced as I started to pass. Then I stopped. He put the shovel down and picked up a small glass jar. It was an old baby food jar with what looked to be dirt.

I stepped a little closer and realized what it was. He was placing it in the hole he just dug. I knelt down and helped Jack as he started putting the dirt back in the hole, careful to not tip over the jar. The hole was not that deep and didn’t take too long to fill back in. Once the last speck of dirt was packed into place Jack pulled a small ceramic plaque out of his bag and placed it securely in the dirt. Then he stood and cried.

I stayed on the ground kneeling and looked up at him. Jack was my best friend. Had been since high school. We met in drama class in tenth grade. I took it so I could break out of my shell a little. Jack took it because he liked drama. We sat next to each other. Drama is not where we became friends, though. Drama happened to be the class that determined our lunch. Jack had some friends, but they were not in the same lunch. I hung out with a few people at lunch. We would sit at the tables outside and drink milkshakes and eat french fries or rice krispie treats.

Sometimes I would work on homework, but mostly we just talked about boys and what we were going to do that weekend or what we did the weekend before. Jack would sit outside too, but he would sit alone. He read a lot. One day I decided to sit with him. I later found out he wished I hadn’t, but was glad I did. After all, it is the moment we started our friendship. We didn’t talk, we just read. We did this for about a month, off and on. I still sat with my friends on occasion and they thought it was weird I would sit next to Jack and just read. I thought it was kind of nice.

One day we started talking. I don’t remember what it was about. I guess it doesn’t matter. It was that year we became friends. And I can’t remember how I ever got along without him. He was accepted into my other group of friends, too. But mostly when we hung out it was just the two of us. We were never anything more than friends, but I loved him as much as I could love anyone. I think he loved me too.

After high school we attended Palm Beach Community College together. Only, it was called Palm Beach Junior College or PBJC [Peanut Butter and Jelly College] back then. I guess I could’ve gone off to a four year school, but I honestly could not bear to leave Jack behind. I didn’t know what I wanted to be anyway, so it just made sense to spend the first two years figuring it out, with Jack.

Our birthdays were a few months apart. Jack was slightly older, but I didn’t hold it against him. For my 21st birthday we went club hopping. We ended up over at Singer Island. Somehow we must have drank way too much, because we woke up on the beach half dressed and feeling like we had just licked a cat. It was one of the best birthdays I ever had.

Two months later Jack and I spent another memorable night together. This was one memory I could have lived without.

I looked up at Jack, tears streaming down my face. He mouthed, “I’m sorry,” turned and walked away. I just stayed there, staring at him as he walked away. My heart breaking all over again. Then I woke up.


Image courtesy of gatorgalpics.

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WOOF Contest 11/13 Winners

Congratulations to everyone for their wonderful contributions.

I checked out everyone's entry yet I forgot to vote. {smacks forehead}

Every week the wonderful folks at PlotDog Press hold the W.O.O.F. Contest where you submit your writing and you and others who submit vote and choose their [your] favorites. W.O.O.F. stands forWriters Offering Our Finest and here are the finest from this past week:

WOOF Contest – Top Picks

Poetry

Jennifer M Scott – “Misery and her Sister” - A bad couple of days at work channeled into words. 

dragon blogger – “Curious Storefront” - Poem about a merchant dealer of souls.

Zorlone – “Meteor Shower of Tears” - A lonesome man remembering the love he professed to a woman.
 
Brought to you by PlotDog Press with the Serial Suspense Screenplay "Intervention"
Presenting the finest of the writer’s blogs by the bloggers who write them. Highlighting the top posts as chosen by the November 13, 2009 WOOF Contest participants. Want in to join the next WOOF? The next contest ends November 20. Submit a link to your best writing post of the last 3 weeks using the form on this page. Participants, repost the winning link list within a week and you’re all set.

Other WOOF Contestants for 11/13/09

Fiction

Anne Bender – “The Crazy Inside - An Excerpt” - An excerpt from a novel-in-process written during the first days of NaNoWriMo.

Poetry

Anne Bender – “And Now For A Little NaNoWriMo Inspiration” - Drop below the quote to find a poem I wrote to help inspire those participating in the annual NaNoWriMo novel writing challenge.

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A Little More Into the Mind of the NaNo Novelist

I thought I would share a snippet of one my steamier scenes. I read through it and feel it's PG enough for this blog.

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His arms draw me backward and into him. It would seem he was in a state of undress as well. How fortuitous. His hands wrap around my waist, holding me tight. His lips run along my neck. It tickles, but is intoxicating. I want more and I want less. I want him to turn me around so I can kiss him deeply. And I want him to keep doing exactly what he is doing. Right at this very moment, I want him right where he is. I no longer want to think. Right now all I want to do is feel. I want to feel his lips run over my neck, down my back, down my arms. I want to feel his tongue as it flicks out, licking the salt off my skin. I want to feel his hands, cupping my breasts, pinching my nipples. I want to feel his arms around me, never letting go. I want to feel his hands as they slowly tease me, as they wander and roam. I want to feel him and me, together.

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Please let me know what you think ~ honestly. I would rather know it's trash and ditch it in the rewrite. I would love to know what you see, feel, etc., etc., etc. The whole idea is to provoke emotion. I really do appreciate your thoughts.


Louvre, Paris - Lovers image courtesy of Osvaldo Zoom

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The Crazy Inside - An Excerpt

So, here I am procrastinating again. Sure, I'm ahead on my word count overall, but I worry I will fall behind at some point. Must keep up the momentum ~ and cook ~ and do laundry ~ and everything else.

I wrote this in one of the first days [if not the first day] of NaNoWriMo and thought it decent enough to share here. Enjoy!

Excerpt:

“When I was younger I used to wonder if my life were just a dream. If one day I would wake up and find I was still just a baby lying in a playpen at my grandmother’s house. Do people really have thoughts like this or is it just me? Not that I wish neuroses on others. Yet it would be nice to know I wasn’t the only one with these randomly odd thoughts.”

“I don’t know about thinking your life is a dream, but why would you think you were the only one with odd thoughts? What about all of the people seeing therapists?”

“Yeah, but do ‘normal’ people have these kinds of thoughts? I mean, do people look at themselves in a mirror and see the edges of a mask even when there is no mask? Does that make me crazy? Or maybe that is too vague. Does that make me a little crazy or a lot crazy? Or is it somewhere in the middle? Or maybe not at all.”

“I’m not sure I would go around telling people these things.”

“So, you think it’s weird.”

“Yeah, but I think you’re fairly normal. You’re friends with me, after all.”

I shake my head. Maybe he’s right. I can’t be the only one having strange thoughts. It’s not as if everyone knows I’m having them. And just because I don’t know they’re having them doesn’t mean they aren’t, right? I needed to stop worrying about all of this and get back to work. It’s not like I’m paid to have really deep thoughts. Maybe that is what I am missing. I need a job that allows me to have really deep thoughts. Pondering the questions of the universe. What is the meaning of life? What is my purpose? Or yours? How does Snuggle get my clothes feeling oh so soft? Hey, inquiring minds want to know.

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NaNo Monthly Progress - Week One

447428 - my id number
asbender - my NaNo name
13387 - Total Word Count

− Day One
2127
2009-11-01

− Day Two
4253
2009-11-02

− Day Three
5708
2009-11-03

− Day Four
10066
2009-11-05

− Day Five
10066
2009-11-05

− Day Six
11371
2009-11-06

− Day Seven
13387
2009-11-07

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NaNoWriMo - Day 2 and still writing

The widgets are not functional just yet. With all the many persons participating it is much more important to have the site functional than the widgets. Maybe tomorrow. Hopefully by the end of the week. Today's progress was pretty decent. I was a bit worried I would not meet my daily goal of 2,000 words. I not only met that goal, but I surpassed it by 143. Now I am at a total word count of 4,253. I am trying to build a buffer now in case I run into plot trouble or character development issues. Although the entire story is a bit by-the-seat-of-my-pants right now.

I am getting a bit excited, though. And of course my original thoughts on a story have taken on an entirely different direction. I am still using those thoughts as I feel they will have merit in development my main character's background and give some insights into her quirks.

I do need to do some information gathering as well. I have decided to use my community as a backdrop. I was going to set it in a more populous area, but I have little access to those areas and want my story to have some accuracy in its setting.

Anyhow, I am going to keep this short and sweet today. To all of you participating in NaNoWriMo, may you find all the words you are looking for and they make some sort of sense at the end of it all.

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NaNoWriMo - Day 1

What an exciting day! I managed to get more than 2,000 words written. No, they are not in order. In fact, they are parts of the story which will be put together much like a jigsaw puzzle as I find those pieces to fit. But I am writing and writing some semblance of a story.

I started in the early wee hours of the morning and managed just under 300 words before getting sleepy. I resumed later in day after adjusting to the change from daylight savings time and making a late breakfast for my family. Hunger has a way of interfering with the creative juices.

I did not write the remaining 1,700 plus words in one sitting and I may add to them yet tonight. I have taken breaks, interacted with the family, blogged [at my main page and now here], visited others' blogs and left some possibly poignant comments. It could have been gibberish, but people are always so nice and forgiving of such things. Especially when they know you are in the throes of 50,000 words, a novel [my first], and still have all those other mundane responsibilities to handle [family, school, housework, blogging, etc., etc., etc.].

Are you participating? Is this your first time or have you done this before? I would love to know how it's going for you or any words of wisdom you wish to share.

Oh, if you would like to be my writing buddy, that would be *awesome*! Just friend me.

** Once the widgets go online I will share my progress ~ live and in color. ** 

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Writing Program for Mac

I cannot tell you how excited I am to find a writing program for Mac! Okay, I did not find it; it found me. No, I did not get this program for free, unless you count the free trial everyone gets. The program happened to backlink to one of my NaNoWriMo posts and, of course, I followed to see where it would lead. I am glad I did!

There are tons of free programs available for PC, but it can [sometimes] be a daunting task to find a really great program for Mac. Well, I do not know if it is really great, but after watching the overview of the program I have very high hopes.

The Scrivener offers templates for novels, short stories, screen plays, research papers, AND a special template just for NaNoWriMo! This was developed to give us NaNo writiers the chance to experience this program and simplify it at the same time for our specific purpose. But you can use Scrivener for just about any type of writing!

Did someone say free trial?

I just now downloaded this program so I will not say it is worth the $39.95 price tag, but you can try it out yourself for free from now until December 7th! That is right! You get more than 30 days to work with Scrivener and see if it is for you.

It gets better. If you do want to own this program, then you will get a 20% discount on the $39.95 price just for being a NaNoWriMo participant.

It gets even better. If you win NaNoWriMo you can get a 50% discount on this program! Wow! I am all for that!

Scrivener is a word processor and project management tool created specifically for writers of long texts such as novels and research papers. It won't try to tell you how to write - it just makes all the tools you have scattered around your desk available in one application.

Be sure to check out the online overview

This was a wonderful way to see the main features of the Scrivener before downloading and muddling through it.

 ««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««««

 Oh, if you are participating in NaNoWriMo and would like to be my writing buddy, that would be *awesome*! Just friend me.

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Message in a Balloon

Once upon a hot summer day, a little girl set off on an adventure. With her balloons in tow she headed to the highest point she could find, a tree in her own back yard. Tucked in each balloon was the message, ‘I hope this balloon finds you well. You are someone special. Julie’ 

A few days passed when Julie spotted it; a balloon with something inside. She popped it open and found a note which read, ‘Julie, thank you for your kind words. It really brightened my day. It’s lonely out in space.’

[94 words]

This post is part of Genre Shorties Prompt Week 12.

This week's genre is YOUR CHOICE. 

This week you choose the genre but I get to choose the first or last sentence of your story. I've had an old Steely Dan song stuck in my head today. Choose one of the following lyrics from songs I've been singing this week to be the first or last sentence of your post.

• I'm never going back to my old school.
• It's lonely out in space.
• You can't hide your lyin' eyes
• It's fun to stay at the Y.M.C.A

image courtesy of Heartlover1717.

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An Exercise In Rhyming

I have a thought and sing a song
dreaming about days long since gone
you and me, me and you
Tra-la-la turns into fiddle-dee-dee
it's more than just a memory
we dance and shimmy, shimmy, too

A random explosion flows sublime
words and ideas fuse in rhyme
a heartbeat, a pulse, and I blush
Free-floating, hovering from above
mind and body, together thereof
moving in rhythm, feeling the rush




image courtesy of ☠ The Punk ☠'s.

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Gearing Up for NaNoWriMo

It is that time of year again
to pick up your paper and your pen
eleven more days til November is here
time to get your writing in gear

Thirty days a novel you write
do not despair, just keep it light
the challenge is on, the gauntlet is thrown
day after day let your ideas be grown

Typos, punctuation, structure in a haze
None of this matters during this phase
So register , go now, don't wait
NaNoWriMo is upon us, no time to hesitate!

I registered last year and did not write one single word. Nope, not one. This year I plan to write many, many, many words. I hope you do, too. It is free and looks like a lot of fun. Oh, and a great way to give yourself that little push you need. You may be surprised where it takes you!

Oh, if you would like to be my writing buddy, that would be *awesome*! Just friend me.

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