Category Archives: Writing

No, Not Dead (Yet)

I am sorry to dash your hopes, but I am not quite dead yet. Just busy. And forgetful. So, I wanted to drop by and let everyone know I will try (I know, promised before) to post more regularly.

Although, the real reason I stopped by was to share this! All the writers and English geeks will love it (if you haven’t watched it a hundred times already).

So, enjoy and you’ll be seeing me around a bit more.

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The Writer’s Voice

Dear Whoever Reads This,

Twenty-eight people have vanished in Greenton in the last two days. Normally, John would just watch the news with the rest of the city. But he won’t. Not with his mom being one of those twenty-eight missing persons.

But as John begins the search for her in a forest outside of Greenton, breaking laws and curfews, he discovers more than just missing people. John finds a classmate, possessed and covered in black smoke. Trying to escape from the possessed boy, John is attacked by a shadow person. He thinks he is done for, and as the shadow person’s tentacles are about to plunge into John, mysterious ice creeps over the ground, killing the shadow person.

But the ice isn’t there when John is in the car with his best friend, when another shadow person kills John.

John doesn’t stay dead long. He is reborn as an ancient, magic-wielding Lighbound. The other Lightbound tell him the shadow people and the missing persons are connected. Possessions aren’t uncommon.  But this many?  The leader of the Lightbound, Charles, tells John something big is happening, and if he wants to save his mom, he’ll have to control his magic, find the missing people, and stop the darkness before it kills the missing persons, the town, and even the world.

Lightning’s Rise (87,000) is a YA fantasy that incorporates elements of myth and legend (shadow people) and turns them into something unique and frighteningly real.  Lightning’s Rise is similar to Susan Cooper’s The Dark is Rising in that they share the supernatural elements in a real world setting and play with the themes of light and dark.

First 250

John pressed his back into the tree, the bark burrowed into his back, but he didn’t care about the painful itchiness.  He stared straight ahead and waited.  The ground rumbled as the National Guard trucks passed along the nearby stretch of highway.  There were five trucks in total, filled with men and women who could stop in the nearby field, comb into the woods, and find John.  And then what would he do?  The rumbling grew louder.  He imagined them, camouflaged uniforms, rifles slung around their backs, dozens of them pouring into the forest.  His heart ticked faster.  John told himself they were only here to help, only here to help find the missing people, but it didn’t stop him from digging his fingernails into the tree, shoving bark bits under his fingernails.

But the trucks kept going, and John let out a sigh when the ground stilled.  He slid down the tree, his thing sweatshirt riding up and letting some of the wood rub against his lower back.  The leaves, a swirling array of orange and red and yellow, fanned in front of the blue skies, and John could almost forget there were twenty-eight people missing for two days.  He could almost forget the lack of sleep.  He could almost forget the hunger gnawing his stomach. He could almost forget the void he felt, the pure nothingness somewhere between terror and hopelessness he had had felt since the police came to his door and told him that his mom was one of the twenty-eight.

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Paragraph of the Week (Part 32)

Well, again, it has been a while. But, let’s not lament over lost time. Instead, here is another paragraph in the story “Waves.” We are getting to the end so hold on!

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“I could never figure out why she loved the thing, even she didn’t know. Every time I asked her, she said she couldn’t remember where she had gotten it from, just that she had it ever since she was a little kid. When I doubted her once, she whipped out a picture of when she was four and showed me the thing. And there it was, plastered around her neck.”
“She was a good woman.”
“Too good.” John sighed.
“You know, I’ve never really ——”

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Paragraph of the Week (Part 31)

Or maybe I should call it paragraph of the month at this point! With an increasing work load, it is becoming harder and harder (and more difficult to remember) to post new content. But, I’m not giving up. So, here we go.

So, you asked me to lunch and then to retrieve a mysterious object,” Jacques said, “what else will be on our itinerary for the day?”
John shrugged. “Have to see if we get the key back and if you will actually talk.”
“The key? Oh monsieur, you don’t mean…”
“She always wore it around her neck. It was the only thing left after the fire. I’ve worn it every day since then. You remember it, remember her wearing it, right?”
“Of course, it never left her body.”

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Paragraph of the Week (Part 30)

Some of you guys might be wondering if I died. I am sorry to inform you that, no, no I have not died. Yet, anyways. Again, I’m going to try to get out more blog posts, maybe even some…GASP…non-paragraph of the week posts. Until this becomes a reality, enjoy this weeks paragraph of the week. And if you can’t remember the story before this, and I don’t blame you if you can’t, you can always check them out in the archives.

“So, you asked me to lunch and then to retrieve a mysterious object,” Jacques said, “what else will be on our itinerary for the day?”
John shrugged. “Have to see if we get the key back and if you will actually talk.”
“The key? Oh monsieur, you don’t mean…”
“She always wore it around her neck. It was the only thing left after the fire. I’ve worn it every day since then. You remember it, remember her wearing it, right?”
“Of course, it never left her body.”
“I could never figure out why she loved the thing, even she didn’t know. Every time I asked her, she said she couldn’t remember where she had gotten it from, just that she had it ever since she was a little kid. When I doubted her once, she whipped out a picture of when she was four and showed me the thing. And there it was, plastered around her neck.”
“She was a good woman.”
“Too good.” John sighed.
“You know, I’ve never really ——”

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Paragraph of the Week (Part 29)

Between work and school, I tend to forget about the blog here. But not completely! We’re still chugging along here, and we will be for a long time. Now, I won’t keep you guys from the next paragraph. Here it is.

The street lights popped on and yellow light filtered in through the bare tree limbs. John glanced up at the snow flakes that momentarily blocked out slivers of light, moving his hand to his chest and feeling the emptiness. A pigeon sat on top of the post. It burrowed its beak into its feathers, pecked at them and whatever else was nestled close to its body. A feather fell, drifting down and landing on the sidewalk. John watched it, stepped over it, and feigned a smile.

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Paragraph of the Week (Part 28)

And here is the paragraph of the week. If you forgot how the story started, just check out the archives! Look under writing and you’ll have everything up to this point. Now, on with the story!

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“Something wrong?” Jacques asked.
John shook his head. “Nothing.”
He began shuffling forward. A few flurries drifted down, melting on his arms. His leather jacket kept his core warm, and if he had wanted to push down the sleeves, it would have done the same for his arms. Then the cold couldn’t singe his flesh. Then it wouldn’t have felt so good.

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