Ten Lonely Candles
Posted on May 15, 2014

It's almost four!

My mom and I spent the entire day setting up the dining room with balloons and party hats. I'm a big science kid so I asked for a science theme for my tenth birthday. I even got a pin-the-planet-on-the-solar-system poster game. It's so cool! You get to wear a space helmet instead of just a mask. And the table cloth of robots, mechanical sketches, and space shuttles is perfect. Dad really knows where to get these kinds of things. He's an engineer too. I want to be just like him. I want to solve problems.

This morning, my Mom and I went to the bakery to get a giant twenty-four-inch cake with the picture of the solar system drawn out in colorful icings circles. Dad found a miniature globe online and placed it on top of the center of the cake, in the middle of the cake universe. Though it's technically wrong, it still looks pretty cool.

I invited everyone in my fifth grade class, including Mrs. Jennings. She said she might not be able to attend because of school guidelines, but that she would try. I hope she comes. She's a really cool teacher.

I really, really hope Laralyn comes. She's likes robots and science, like me. We did the science fair in March and won. She got first place for her display of magnetic fields and it's affect on natural resources. I got second for the semi-robotic arm Dad helped me build. Mrs. Jennings said I couldn't be first because I had help from my dad. I was fine coming in second to Laralyn. She's really smart.

It's four o-clock. I run to the window in front of the curtains to watch for my classmates.


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Insecure Writer's Support Group : Writing During a Tragedy
Posted on May 6, 2014
The past several weeks have been, to say the least, an emotional roller coaster. I was stuck in a rut for at least a month, unable to write a single word of fiction, or work on finishing the 2nd revision of my WIP, or market or promote anything.

It was rough. Death is rough. It makes you question things, like : why am I spending so many hours working on a silly little novel? People are dying! I need to do something productive, something that will change the world, save lives, and have an affect on people damn it!

Self-loathing. Survivors guilt. Silence.

But it wasn't a complete black out. I did write an entry commemorating my mother-in-law's passing, and another post inspired by my husband's self-inflicted guilt that is common when a loved-one dies.  Dulce is Home and Remember Me were both written from deep inside my gut, through streams of tears, and during a long stretch of sleepless nights. I posted them on Google+ in a few spots where I know the community members would welcome the entries, though one community admin actually removed my link because I didn't follow their poetry posting guidelines.


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Liebster Award 2014
Posted on May 4, 2014
After finishing an impressive A-Z challenge, in a fairy tale theme, the wonderful and talented Michelle Stanley has nominated me for a Liebster Award. YAY! The Liebster Award is given to bloggers by other bloggers. Below are some guidelines.

1.   Link back and thank the blogger who nominated you in your post.
2.   List 11 facts about yourself.
3.   Answer the 11 questions asked by the blogger who nominated you.
4.   Pick 5 - 10 new bloggers (must have less than 300 followers) to nominate.
5.   Ask them 11 new questions. Do not re-nominate the blogger who nominated you.      
6.   Go to each blogger's site and inform them of their nomination.

I will not let you down Michelle! Here goes....


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Back in Time
Posted on May 2, 2014
What the hell? Why am I wearing a diaper? I’m in some sort of over-sized crib. Something stinks in here. This has to be a nightmare.

“Thara!” I shout, pulling myself up to my feet. “Thara! Thomethingth wrong! Come quick!”

My mother appears. She’s huge! I stare up at her, wide-eyed and mouth agape, as she approaches in her white bathrobe. She looks so young.

“There, there, Jack. Having a nightmare, are we? Don’t worry. Mama’s going to sing you to sleep now.”

"But…no…wait…thomethingth wrong. Where’th thara?”

"Shh," my mom says. She picks me up and lays me down on my back as if I weigh nothing at all. The motion makes me feel surprisingly lazy.


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